The life and adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

GIFT OF

Ralph Fre\jd

THE

LIFE AND ADVENTURES

OF

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

CHARLES DICKENS.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. BARNARD.

NEW YORK:

JOHN WURTELE LOVELL,

No. 24 Bond Street.

ll-^

PREFACE

What is exaggeration to one class of minds and percep-
tions, is plain truth to another. That which is commonly
called a long-sight, perceives in a prospect innumerable
features and bearings non-existent to a short-sighted person.
I sometnnes ask myself whether there may occasionally be a
difference of this kind between some writers and some readers ;
whether it is always the writer who colors highly, or whether
it is now and then the reader whose eye for color is a little
dull t

On this head of exaggeration I have a positive experience,
more curious than the speculation I have just set down. It
is this : — I hav'e never touched a character precisely from the
life, but some counterpart of that character has incredulously
asked me : " Now really, did I ever really, see one like it ? "

All the Pecksniff family upon earth are quite agreed, I
believe, that Mr. Pecksniff is an exaggeration, and that no
such character ever existed. I will not offer any plea on his
behalf to so powerful and genteel a body, but will make a
remark on the character of Jonas Chuzzlewit.

I conceive that the sordid coarseness and brutality of
Jonas would be unnatural, if there had been nothing in his
early education, and in the precept and example always before
him, to engender and develop the vices that make him odious.
But, so born and so bred ; admired for that which made him
hateful, and justified from his cradle in cunning, treachery,
and avarice ; I claim him as the legitimate issue of the father
upon whom those vices are seen to recoil. And I submit that
their recoil upon that old man, in his unhonnred age, is not a
mere piece of poetical justice, but is the extreme exposition
of a direct truth.

I make this comment and solicit the reader's attention to
it in his or her consideration of this tale, because nothing is
more common in real life than a want of profitable refiection
on the causes of many vices and crimes that awaken general
horror. What is substantially true of families in this respect,

iv PREFACE.

is true of a whole commonwealth. As we sow, we reap. Let
the reader go into the children's side of any prison in England,
or, I grieve to add, of many workhouses, and judge whether
those are monsters who disgrace our streets, people our hulks
and penitentiaries, and overcrowd our penal colonies, or are
creatures whom we have deliberately suffered to be bred for
misery and ruin.

The American portion of this story is in no other respect
a caricature, than as it is an exhibition, for the most part
(Mr. Bevan excepted), of a ludicrous side, only^ of the Ameri-
can character — of that side which was, four and twenty years
ago, from its nature, the most obtrusive, and the most likely
to be seen by such travellers as Young Martin and Mark
Tapley. As 1 had never, in writing fiction, had any disposi-
tion to soften what is ridiculous or wrong at home, so I then
hoped that the good-humored people of the United States
would not be generally disposed to quarrel with me for carry-
ing the same usage abroad. I am happy to believe that my
confidence in that great nation was not misplaced.

When this book was first published, I was given to under-
stand, by some authorities, that the watertoast Association
and eloquence were beyond all bounds of belief. Therefore,
I record the fact that all that portion of Martin Chuzzlewit's
experiences is a literal paraphrase of some reports of public
proceedings in the United States (especially of the proceed-
ings of a certain Brandywine Association), which were printed
in the Times newspaper in June and July, 1843, ''■^ about the
time when I was engaged in writing those parts of the book ;
and which remain on the file of the Times newspaper, of
course.

In all my writings, I hope I have taken every available
opportunity of showing the want of sanitary improvements in
the neglected dwellings of the poor. Mrs. Sarah Gamp was,
four and twenty years ago, a fair representation of the hired
attendant on the poor in sickness. The hospitals of London
were, in many respects, noble institutions ; in others, very
defective. I think it not the least among the instances of
their mismanagement, that Mrs. Betsy Prig was a fair speci-
men of a hospital nurse ; and that the hospitals, with their
means and funds, should have left it to private humanity and
enterprise to enter on an attempt to improve that class of
persons — since, greatly improved through the agency of good
women.

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PACE.

I. Introductory, concerning the pedigree of the Chuz-

zlewit family 7

II. Wherein certain persons are presented to the reader,
with whom he may, if he pleases, become better
acquainted 13

III. In which certain other persons are introduced; on

the same terms as in the last chapter 31

IV. From which it will appear that if union be strength,

and family affection be pleasant to contemplate, the
Chuzzlewits- were the strongest and most agreeable

family in the world 49

V. Containing a full account of the installation of Mr.
Pecksniff's new pupil into the bosom of Mr. Peck-
sniff's family, with all the festivities held on that
occasion, and the great enjoyment of Mr. Pinch.. . 69
VI. Comprises, among other important matters, Peck-
sniffian and architectural, an exact relation of the
progress made by Mr. Pinch in the confidence and

friendship of the new pupil 91

VII. In which Mr. Chevy Slyme asserts the independence

of his spirit, and the Blue Dragon loses a limb.. . . 106
VIII. Accompanies Mr. Pecksniff and his charming daugh-
ters to the city of London ; and relates what fell

out, upon their way thither 123

IX. Town and Todgers's 134

X. Containing strange matter; on which many events in
this history may, for their good or evil influence,

chiefly depend 161

XI. Wherein a certain gentleman becomes particular in
his attentions to a certain ladv ; and more coming

events than one, cast their shadows before 17G

XII. Will be seen in the long run, if not in the short one,

3

^ CONTENTS.

CHAl'. PAGB.

to concern Mr. Pinch and others, nearly. Mr.
Pecksniff asserts the dignity of outraged virtue.
Young Martin Chuzzlewit forms a desperate resolu-
tion 1 98

XIII. Showing what became of Martin and his desperate

resolve after he left Mr. Pecksniff's house ; what
persons he encountered ; what anxieties he suf-
fered ; and what news he heard 219

XIV. In which Martin bids adieu to the lady of his love;

and honors an obscure individual whose fortune he
intends to make, by commending her to his protec-
tion 240

XV. The burden whereof is, hail, Columbia ! 251

XVI. Martin disembarks from that noble and fast-sailing-
line-of-packet ship, the Screw, at the port of New
York, in the United States of America. He makes
some acquaintances, and dines at a boarding-house.

The particulars of those transactions 261

XVII. Martin enlarges his circle of acquaintance ; increases
his stock of wisdom ; and has an excellent oppor-
tunity of comparing his own experiences with those
of I.ummy Ned of the Light Salisbury, as related

by his friend Mr. William Simmons 283

XVIII. Does business with the house of Anthony Chuzzlewit
and son, from which one of the partners retires un-
expectedly 303

XIX. The reader is brought into communication with some
professional persons, and sheds a tear over the

filial piety of good Mr. Jonas 314

XX. Is a chapter of love 330

XXI. More American experiences. Martin takes a partner,
and makes a purchase. Some account of Eden, as
it appeared on paper. Also of the British Lion.
Also of the kind of sympathy professed and enter-
tained by the Watertoast Association of United
Sympathizers 345

XXII. From which it will be seen that Martin became a
lion on his own account. Together with the reason
why 366

XXIII. Martin and his partner take possession of their

estate. The joyful occasion involves some further
account of Eden 377

XXIV. Reports progress in certain homely matters of love,

hatred, jealousy, and revenge 387

XXV. Is in part professional ; and furnishes the reader
with some valuable hints in relation to the manage-
ment of a sick chamber 404

XXVI. An unexpected meeting, and a promising prospect. . 420

CONTENTS. • 5

CHAP. PAGE.

XXVII. Showing that old friends may not only appear with

new faces, but in false colors. That people are
prone to bite ; and that biters may sometimes be
bitten 429

XXVIII. Mr. Montague at home. And Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit

at home 451

XXIX. In which some people are precocious, others profes-
sional, and others mysterious : all in their sev-
eral ways 462

XXX. Proves that changes may be rung in the best-regu-
lated families, and that Mr. Pecksniff was a spec-
ial hand at a triple-bob-major 472

XXXI. Mr. Pinch is discharged of a duty which he never

owed to anybody ; and Mr. Pecksniff discharges

a duty which he owes to society .... 489

XXXII. Treats of Todgers's again ; and of another blight-

ed plant besides the plants upon the leads. .... 507

XXXIII. Further proceedings in Eden, and a proceeding

out of it. Martin makes a discovery of some
. importance 5^4

XXXIV. In which the travellers move homeward, and en-

counter some distinguished characters upon the

way 43 1

XXXV. Arriving in England, Martin witnesses a ceremony,
from which he derives the cheering information
that he has not been forgotten in his absence. . 548
XXXVI. Tom Pinch departs to seek his fortune. What he

finds at starting 555

XXXVII. Tom Pinch, going astray, finds that he is not the
only person in that predicament. He retaliates

upon a fallen foe 577

XXXVIII. Secret service 587

XXXIX. Containing some further particulars of the domes-
tic economy of the Pinches ; with strange news

from the city, narrowly concerning Tom 597

XL. The Pinches make a new acquaintance, and have

fresh occasion for surprise and wonder 615

XLI. Mr. Jonas and his friend arriving at a pleasant

understanding, set forth upon an enterprise. . . . C31
XLI I. Continuation of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas and

his friend 641

XLIII. Has an influence on the fortunes of several peo-
ple. Mr. Pecksniff is exhibited in the plenitude
of power, and wields the same with fortitude

and magnanimity 651

XLIV. Further continuation of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas

and his friend 673

XLV. In which Tom Pinch and his sister take a little

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGB.

pleasure ; but quite in a domestic \*ay, and with

no ceremony about it . 6S3

XLVI. In which Miss Pecksniff makes love, Mr. Jonas
makes wrath, Mrs. Gamp makes tea, and Mr.

Chuffey makes business 693

XLVI I. Conclusion of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas and his

friend 716

XLVIII. Bears tidings of Martin, and of Mark, as well as
of a third person not quite unknown to the
reader. Exhibits filial piety in an ugly aspect;
and casts a doubtful ray of light upon a very

dark place 725

XLIX. In which Mrs. Harris, assisted by a teapot, is the

cause of a division between friends 742

L. Surprises Tom Pinch very much, and shows how
certain confidences passed between him and

his sister 757

LI. Sheds new and brighter light upon the very dark
place ; and contains the sequel of the enterprise

of Mr. Jonas and his friend 768

LI I. In which the tables are turned completely upside

down 790

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. . 810

LIV. Gives the author great concern. For it is the last

in the book 820

LIFE AND ADVENTURES

OF

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY, CONCERNING THE PEDIGREE OF THE CHUZ-
ZLEWIT FAMILY.

As no lady or gentleman, with any claims to polite breeding,
can possibly sympathize with the Chuzzlewit Family without
being first assured of the extreme antiquity of the race, it is
a great satisfaction to know that it undoubtedly 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 histoiy, displayed an
overweening amount of family pride, surely the weakness will
be considered not only pardonable but laudable, 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 oldest family of
which we have any record, a murderer and a vagabond, so we
never fail to meet, in the records of all old families, with innu-
merable repetitions of the same phase of character. Indeed,
it may be laid down as a general principle, that the more ex-
tended the ancestry, the greater the amount of violence and
vagabondism ; for in ancient days, those two amusements, com-
bining a wholesome excitement with a ])romising means of re-

8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

pairing shattered fortunes, were at once the ennobhng pursuit
and the heaUhfuI recreation of the QuaUty of this 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
conspiracies and bloody frays. It is further recorded of them,
that being clad from head to heel in steel of proof, they did
on many occasions lead their leather-jerkined 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 Chuzzlewit came
over with William the Conqueror. It does not appear that
this illustrious ancestor " came over " that monarch, to em-
ploy the vulgar phrase, at any subsequent period ; inasmuch
as the Family do not seem to have been ever greatly distin-
guished by the possession of landed estate. And it is well
known that for the bestowal of that kind of property upon his
favorites, the liberality and gratitude of the Norman were
as remarkable, as those virtues are usually found to be in
great men when they give away what belongs to other people.

Perhaps in this place the history may pause to congratu-
late itself upon the enormous amount of braver}^ wisdom, elo-
quence, virtue, gentle birth, and true nobility, that appears to
have come into England with the Norman Invasion ; an
amount which the genealogy of every ancient 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 in giving
birth to long lines of chivalrous descendants, boastful of their
origin, even though William the Conqueror had been William
the Conquered, a change of circumstances which, it is quite
certain, would have made no manner of difference in this re-
spect.

There was unquestionably a Chuzzlewit in the Gunpowder
Plot, if indeed the arch-traitor, Fawkes himself, were not a
scion of this remarkable 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 he had issue, one olive-complexioned |on. This
probable conjecture is strengthened, if not absolutely 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 circum-
stance that in these later times, many Chuzzlewits, being

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. g

unsuccessful in other pursuits, have, without the smallest
rational hope of enrichin*^ themselves, or any conceivable rea-
son, set up as coal-merchants ; and have, month after month,
continued gloomily to watch a small stock of coals without
in any one instance negotiating with a purchaser. The re-
markable similarity between this course of proceeding and
that adopted by their Great Ancestor 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 histojy
which is not distinctly stated, a matron of such destructive
principles, and so familiarized to the use and composition of
inflammatory and combustible engines, that she was called
"The Match Maker : " by which nickname and byword she is
recognized in the Family legends to this day. Surely there
can be no reasonable doubt that this was the Spanish lady, the
mother of Chuzzlewit Fawkes.

But there is one other piece of evidence, bearing immedi-
ate reference to their close connection with this memorable
event in English Flistory, which must carry conviction, even
to a mind (if such a mind there be) remaining unconvinced by
these presumptive proofs.

There was, within a few years, in the possession of a
highly respectable and in every way credible and unimpeach-
able member of the Chuzzlewit Family (for his Bitterest enemy
never dared to huit at his being otherwise than a wealthy
man), a dark lantern of undoubted antiquity ; rendered still
more interesting by being, in shape and pattern, extremely like
such as are in use at the present day. Now this gentleman,
since deceased, was at all times ready to make oath, and did
again and again set forth upon his solemn asseveration, that he
■ hadfrequently heard his grandmother say, when contemplating
this venerable relic, "Ay, ay ! This was carried by my fourth
son on the fifth of November, when he was a Guy Fawkes."
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 interpretation which they bear,
and the conclusion to which they lead, are triumphant and
irresistible. The old lady, naturally strong-minded, was nev-
ertheless 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 ver^' slight con-

I o MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

fusion, apparent in these expressions, is manifest and is ludic-
rously easy of correction. " Ay, ay," quoth she, and it will
be observed that no emendation whatever is necessary to be
made in these two initiative remarks, " Ay, ay ! This lan-
tern was carried by my forefather " — not fourth son, which
is preposterous — " on the fifth of November. And he was
Guy Fawkes." Here we have a remark at once consistent,
clear, natural, and in strict accordance with the character
of the speaker. Indeed the anecdote is so plainly suscepti-
ble 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) affected not only in histor-
ical prose but in imaginative poetr}', by the exercise of a
little ingenious labor on the part of a commentator.

It has been said that there is no instance in modern
times, of a Chuzzlewit having been found on terms of inti-
macy 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 Chuzzlewit was in the habit of perpetually dining
with Duke Humphrey. So constantly was he a guest at that
nobleman's table, indeed, and so unceasingly were His Grace's
hospitality and companionship forced, as it were, upon him,
that we find him uneasy, and full of constraint and reluc-
tance : 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 expressing himself in a very
marked and extraordinary manner as one surfeited of high
Life and Gracious Company.

It has been rumored, and it is needless to say the
rumor originated in the same base quarters, that a certain
male Chuzzlewit, whose birth must be admitted to be in-
volved in some obscurity, was of very mean and low de-
scent. How stands the proof? When the son of that in-
dividual, to whom the secret of his father's birth was sup-
posed to have been communicated by his father in his
lifetime, lay upon his deathbed, this question was put to him
in a distinct, solemn and formal way : Toby Chuzzlewit, who
was your grandfather ? To which he, with his last breath, no
less distinctly, solemnly, and formally replied — and his words
were taken down at the time, and signed by six witnesses
each with his name and address in full — " The Lord No Zoo."

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. II

It may be said — it has been said, for human wickedness has
no limits — that there is no lord of that name, and that among
the titles which have become extinct, none at all resembling
this, in sound even, is to be discovered. But what is the irre-
sistible inference ? — Rejecting a theory broached by some
well-meaning but mistaken persons, that this Mr. Toby Chuz-
zlewit's grandfather, to judge from his name, must surely have
been a Mandarin (which is wholly insupportable, for there is
no pretence of his grandmother ever having been out of this
countrjr, 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 manifest 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 kind of heraldic over-the-left, with 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
members had attained to very great wealth and influence.
Throughout such fragments of his correspondence as have
escaped the ravages of the moths (who, in right of their exten-
sive absorption of the contents of deeds and papers, may be
called the general registers of the Insect World), we find him
making constant reference to an uncle, in respect of whom he
would seem to have entertained great expectations, as he
was in the habit of seeking to propitiate his favor by presents
of plate, jewels, books, watches, and other valuable articles.
Thus, he writes on one occasion to his brother in reference
to a gravy-spoon, the brother's property, which he (Diggory)
would appear to have borrowed or otherwise possessed him-
self 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 be-
stowed 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

12 MA J? TIA^ CHUZZLE WIT.

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 very extensive, for his nephew writes, " His interest
is too high " — *' It is too much "' — " It is tremendous '' — and
the like. Still it does not appear (which is strange) to have
procured for him any lucrative post at court or elsewhere, or
to have conferred upon him any other distinction than that
which was necessarily included in the countenance of so great
a man, and the being invited by him to certain entertainments,
so splendid and costly in their nature that he calls them
" Golden Balls."

It is needless to multiply instances of the high and lofty sta-
tion, and the vast importance of the Chuzzlevvits, at different
periods. If it came within 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 skepticism should be crushed and beaten flat.
As a goodly tumulus is already collected, and decently batten-
ed 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 Chuzzlewits, both male and female, are proved to demon-
stration, 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 many roads on an ethereal map. This fact in itself,
though it had been a solitary one, would have utterly settled
and clenched the busmess in hand ; for it is well known, on the
authority of all the books which treat of such matters, that
everyone of these phenomena, but especially that of the chisel-
ling, are invariably peculiar to, and only make themselves
apparent in, persons of the very best condition.

This history, having, to its own perfect satisfaction, (and,
consequently, to the 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 render
them highly improving and acceptable acquaintance to all right-
minded individuals, may now proceed in earnest with its task.
And having 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 sub-
mit, that such of its members as shall be introduced in these

MAR TTN C MUZZLE WTT. 1 3

pages, have still many counterparts and prototypes in the
Great World about us. At present it contents itself with
remarking, in a general way, on this head : Firstly, that it may
he safely asserted and yet without implying any direct partici-
pation in the Monboddo doctrine touching the probability of
the human race having once been monkeys, that men do play
very strange and extraordinary tricks. Secondly, and yet with-
out trenching on the Blumenbach theory as to the descendant
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 taking
uncommon good care of themselves.

CHAPTER II.

WHEREIN CERTAIN PERSONS ARE PRESENTED TO THE READER,
WITH WHOISI HE MAY, IF HE PLEASES, BECOME BETTER
ACQUAINTED,

It was pretty late in the autumn of the year, when the de-
clining sun, struggling through the mist which had obscured
it all day, looked brightly down upon a little Wiltshire village
within an easy journey of the fair old town of Salisbur}'.

Like a sudden flash of memory or spirit kindling 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 verdure
in the hedges — where a few green twigs yet stood together
bravely, resisting to the last the tyranny 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 cheer-
ful smile ; the birds began to chirp and twitter 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.

14 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Even those tokens of the season which emphatically whis-
pered of the coming winter, graced the landscape, and, for
the moment, tinged its livelier features with no oppressive air
of sadness. The fallen leaves, with which the ground was
strewn, gave forth a pleasant fragrance, and subduing 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 husbandman, 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 centre of 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
(hardly evergreens this class) showed somewhat stern and
gloomy in their vigor, as charged by nature with the admoni-
tion that it is not to her more sensitive and joyous favorites
she grants the longest term of life. Still athwart their darker
boughs, the sunbeams struck out paths of deeper gold ; and
the red light, mantling in among their swarthy branches, used
them as foils to set its brightness off, and aid the lustre of the
dying day.

A moment, and its glory was no more. The 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 battle-
ment on battlement ; the light was all withdrawn ; the shining
church turned cold and dark ; the stream forgot to smile ; the
birds were silent ; and the gloom of winter dwelt on every-
thing.

An evening wind uprose too, and the slighter branches
cracked and rattled as they moved, in skeleton dances, to its
moaning music. The withering leaves no longer quiet, hurried
to and fro in search of shelter from its chill pursuit ; the
laborer unyoked horses, and with his head bent down
trudged briskly home beside them ; and from the cottage
windows lights began to glance and wink upon the darkening
fields.

Then the village forge came out in all its bright impor-
tance. The lusty bellows roared Ha ha ! to the clear fire,

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 15

which roared in turn, and bade the shining sparks^ dance
gayly to the merry clinking of the hammers on the anvil The
gleaming iron, in its emulation, sparkled too, and shed its red-
hot gems around profusely. The strong smith and his men
dealt such strokes upon their work, as made even the melan-
choly 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, spell-bound by the place, and, cast-
ing now and then a glance upon the darkness in their rear,
settled their lazy elbows more at ease upon the sill, and leaned
a little further 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 sighing, it began to
bluster round" the merry forge, banging at the wicket, and
grumbling in the chimney, as if it bullied the jolly bellows
for doing anything to order. And what an impotent swaggerer
it was too, for all its noise ; for if it had any infiuence on that
hoarse companion, it was but to make him roar his cheerful
song the louder, and by consequence to make the fire burn
the brighter, and the sparks to dance more gayly yet : at
length, they whizzed so madly round and round, that it was
too much for such a surly wind to bear ; so olT it flew
with a howl, giving the old sign before the ale-house door
such a cuff as it went, that the Blue Dragon was more ram-
pant than usual ever afterwards, and indeed, before Christ-
mas, reared clean out of its 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 venting its humor on the insulted Dragon, did so
disperse and scatter them that they tied away, pell-mell, some
here, some there, rolling over each other, whirling round and
round upon their thin edges, taking frantic 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 planks and timbers in
the yard, and scattering the sawdust in the air, it looked
for them underneath, and when it did meet with any, whew !
how it drove them on and followed at their heels !

1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

The scared leaves only flew the faster for all this, and a
giddy chase it was ; for they got into unfrequented places,
where there was no outlet, and where their pursuer kept them
eddying round and round at his pleasure ; and they crept
under the eaves of houses, and clung tightly to the sides of
hay-ricks, like bats ; and tore in at open chamber windows,
and cowered close to hedges ; and in short went anywhere for
safety. But the oddest feat they achieved was, to take advan-
tage 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, incontinent-
ly blew out the lighted candle held by Miss Pecksniff, and
slammed the front-door against Mr. Pecksniff who was at that
moment entering, with such violence, that in the twinkling of
an eye. he lay on his back at the bottom of the steps. Being
by this time weary of such trifling performances, the boister-
ous rover hurried away rejoicing, roaring over moor and
meadow, hill and flat, until it got out to sea, where it met
with other winds similarly disposed, and made a night of it.

In the meantime Mr. Pecksniff, having received 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 general illumination of very bright short-sixes, lay
placidly staring at his own street-door. And it would seem to
have been more suggestive in its aspect than street-doors usu-
ally are ; for he continued to lie there, rather a lengthy and
unreasonable time, without so much as wondering whether 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 t " 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 ideal inflicter of
a runaway knock. " You'll catch it, sir ! "

Still Air. Pecksniff, perhaps from having caught it already,
said nothing.

" You're round the corner now," cried Miss Pecksniff.
She said it at a venture, but there was appropriate matter in it
too ; for Mr. Pecksniff", being in the act of extinguishing the
candles before mentioned prettv rapidly, and of reducing the

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

n

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 be coming round the
corner, and just turning it.

With a sharply-delivered 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 parent ! "

At this exclamation, another Miss Pecksniff bounced out
of the parlor, and the two Miss Pecksniffs, with many incohe-
rent expressions, dragged Mr. Pecksniff into an upright pos-
ture.

" Pa ! " they cried in concert. " Pa ! Speak, Pa ! Do
not look so wild, my dearest Pa ! "

But as a gentleman's looks, in such a case of all others,
are by no means under his own control, Mr. Pecksniff contin-
ued to keep his mouth and his eyes very wide open, and to
drop his lower jaw, somewhat after the manner of a toy nut-
cracker ; and as his hat had fallen off, and his face was pale,
and his hair erect, and his coat muddy, the spectacle he
presented was so very doleful, that neither of the Miss Peck-
sniffs could repress an involuntary screech.

" That'll do," said Mr. Pecksniff. " I'm better."

" He's come to himself ! " cried the youngest Miss Peck-
sniff.

" He speaks again ! " exclaimed the eldest.

With these joyful words they kissed Mr. Pecksniff on
either cheek, and bore him into the house. Presently, the
youngest Miss Pecksniff ran out again to pick up his hat, his
brown paper parcel, his umbrella, his gloves, and other small
articles ; and that done and the door closed, both young
ladies applied themselves to tending Mr. Pecksniff's wounds
in the back parlor.

They were not ver^' serious in their nature, being limited
to abrasions on what the eldest Miss Pecksniff called " the
knobby parts " of her parent's anatomy, such as his knees
and elbows, and to the development of an entirely new organ,
unknown to phrenologists, on the back of his head. These
injuries having been comforted externally, with patches of
pickled brown paper, and Mr. Pecksniff having been comforted

2

i8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

internally, with some stiff brandy-and-water, the eldest Miss
Pecksniff sat down to make the tea, which was all ready. In
the meantime the youngest Miss Pecksniff 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 teaboard.

It must not be inferred from this position of humility, that
the youngest Miss Pecksniff was so young 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, because she was all girlish-
ness, and playfulness, and wildness, and kittenish buoyancy.
She, 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 Pecksniff, 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 flow-
ing crop, which had so many rows of curls in it, that the top
row was only one curl. Moderately buxom was her shape,
and quite womanly too ; but sometimes — yes, sometimes —
she even wore a pinafore ; antl 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 news-
paper), 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 christened
Mercy. Mercy ! oh, what a charming name for such a pure-
souled being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff ! Her sister's
name was Charity. There was a good thing ! Mercy and
Charity ! And Charity with her fine 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
sight was that, the contrast they presented : to see each love
' and loving one S3aTipathizing with and devoted to, and leaning
on, and yet correcting and counter-checking, and, as it were, an-
tidoting the other ! To behold each damsel, in her very admi-
ration of her sister, setting up in business for herself on an en-
tirely different principle, and announcing no connection with
over-the-way, and if the quality of goods at that establishment
don't please you, you are respectfully invited to favor me
with a call ! .Vnd tlie crowning circumstance of the whole

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 9

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 correspond-
ence. It was once said of him by a homely admirer, that he
had a Fortunatus's purse of good sentiments in his inside. In
this particular he was like the girl in the fairy tale, except that
if they were not actual diamonds which fell from his lips, they
were the very brightest paste, and shone prodigiously. He
was a most exemplary man : fuller of virtuous precept than a
copy-book. Sowie 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 a 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 jut-
ting heights of collar, serene and whiskerless before you. It
seemed to say, on the part of Mr. I^ecksniff, " There is no
deception, ladies and gentlemen, all is peace, a holy calm per-
vades 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, " Toehold the moral Pecksniff ! "

The brazen plate upon the door (which being Mr. Peck-
niff's, could not lie) bore this inscription, "Pecksniff, Ar-
chitect," to which Mr. Pecksniff, on his cards of business
added, "and Land Surveyor." In one sense, and only one,
he maybe said to have been a Land Sur\^eyor on a pretty large
scale, as an extensive prospect lay stretched out before the
windows of his house. Of his arcliitectural doings, nothing was
clearly known, except that he iiad never designed or built any-
thing ; but it was generally understood that his knowledge of
the science was almost awful in its profundity.

Mr. Pecksniff's professional engagements, indeed, were al-

20 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

most, if not entirely, confined to the reception of pupils ; for
the collection of rents, with which pursuit he occasionally varied
and relieved his graver toils, can hardly be said to be a strictly
architectural employment. His genius lay in ensnaring parents
and guardians, and pocketing premiums. A young gentleman's
premium being paid, and the young gentleman come to Mr.
Pecksniff's house, Mr. Pecksniff borrowed his case of mathe-
matical instruments (if silver-mounted or otherwise valuable) ;
entreated him, from that moment, to consider himself one of the
family ; complimented him highly on his parents or guardians,
as the case might be, and turned him loose in a spacious room
on the two-pair front, where, in the company of certain draw-
ing-boards, parallel rulers, very stiff-legged compasses, and two,
or perhaps three, other young gentlemen, he improved himself,
for three or five years, according to his articles, in making ele-
vations of Salisbury Cathedral from every possible point of
sight ; and in constructing in the air a vast quantit}' 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-twentieth part of the churches which were built in
that front room, with one or othei of the Miss Pecksniffs at
the altar in the act of marrying the architect, could only be
made available by the parliamentar}^ 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 fin-
ished, " even cream, sugar, 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 tran-
sitor)\ 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 that ! "

" Don't say we get drunk. Pa," urged the eldest Miss Peck-
sniff.

"When I say we, my dear," returned her father, " 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
fore-finger of his left hand upon the brown paper patch on the
top of his head, " slight casual baldness though it be, reminds
us that we are but " — he was going to say " worms," but rec-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 21

ollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair,
he substituted " flesh and blood."

" Which," cried Mr. Pecksniff after a pause, during wliich
he seemed to have been casting about for a new moral, and not
quite successfully, " which is also very soothing. Mercy, my
dear, stir the fire and throw up the cinders."

The young lady obeyed, and having done so, resumed her
stool, reposed one arm upon her father's knee, and laid her
blooming cheek upon it. Miss Charity drew her chair nearer
the fire, as one prepared for conversation, and looked towards
her father.

" Yes," said Mr. Pecksniff, after 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.
A new inmate will very shortly come among us."

" A youth, papa ? " asked Charity.

" Ye-es, a youth," said Mr. Pecksniff. " He will avail him-
self of the eligible opportunity which now offers, for uniting the
advantages of the best practical architectural education, 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 their moral responsibilities."

" Oh Pa ! " cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly. " See
advertisement !"

"Playful — playful warbler," said Mr. Pecksniff. It maybe
observed in connection with his calling his daughter " a war-
bler," 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 manner, that he would sometimes stagger
the wisest people with his eloquence, and make them gasp
again.

His enemies asserted, by the way, that a strong trustfulness
in sounds and forms, was the master-key to Mr. Pecksniff's
character.

" Is he handsome. Pa ?" inquired the younger daughter.

" Silly Merry ! " said the eldest — Merry being fond for
Mercy. " What is the premium. Pa ? tell us that."

" Oh good gracious. Cherry ! " cried Miss Mercy, holding
up her hands with the most winning giggle in the world, " what
a mercenaiy girl you are ! oh you naughty, thoughtful, prudent
thing ! "

22 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

It was perfectly charming, and worthy of the Pastoral age,
to see how the two Miss Pecksniffs slapped each other after
this, and then subsided into an embrace expressive of their
different dispositions.

" He is well looking," said Mr. Pecksniff, slowly and dis-
tinctly : " well looking enough. I do not positively expect any
immediate premium with him."

Notwithstanding their different natures, both Charity and
Mercy concurred in opening their eyes uncommonly wide at
this announcement, and in looking for the moment as blank
as if their thoughts had actually had a direct bearing on the
main-chance.

" But what of that ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, still smiling at the
fire. " There is disinterestedness in the world, I hope t We
are not all arrayed in two opposite ranks : the ^tensive and
the rtit'fensive. Some few there are who walk between ; who
help the needy as they go ; and take no part with either side ?
Umph ? "

There was something in these morsels of philanthropy which
reassured the sisters. They exchanged glances, and brightened
very much.

" Oh ! let us not be for ever calculating, devising, and plot-
ting for the future," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling more and more,
and looking at the fire as a man might, who was cracking a
joke with it : "1 am weary of such arts. If our inclinations
are but good and open-hearted, let us gratify them boldly,
though they bring upon us, Loss instead of Profit. Eh,
Charity ? "

Glancins: towards his dauohters for the first time since he
had begun these reflections, and seeing that they both smiled,
Mr. Pecksniff eyed them for an instant so jocosely (though
still with a kind of saintly waggishness) that the younger one was
moved to sit upon his knee forthwith, put her fair arms round
his neck, and kiss him twenty times. During the whole of this
affectionate display she laughed to a most immoderate extent :
in which hilarious indulgence even the prudent Cherry joined.

" Tut, tut," said Mr. Pecksniff, pushing his latest-born away
and running his fingers through his hair, as he resumed his
■".ranquil face. " What folly is this ! Let us take heed how we
laugh without reason, lest we cr}Mvith it. What is the domes-
tic news since yesterday ? John Westlock is gone, I hope ? "

" Indeed no," said Charity.

" And why not } " returned her father. " His term expired

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 23

yesterday. And his box was packed, I know ; for I saw it,
in the morning, standing in the hall."

" He slept last night at the Dragon," returned the young
lady, " and had Mr. Pinch to dine with him. They spent the
evening together, and Mr. Pinch was not home till very late."

" And when I saw him on the stairs this morning. Pa,"
said Mercy with her usual sprightliness, " he looked, oh good-
ness, such a monster ! with his face all manner of colors,
and his eyes as dull as if they had been boiled, and his head
aching dreadfully, I am sure from the look of it, and his clothes
smelling, oh it's impossible to say how strong, of " — here the
young lady shuddered — " of smoke and punch."

" Now I think," said Mr. Pecksniff with his accustomed
gentleness, though still with the air of one who suffered under
injury without complaint, " I think Mr. Pinch might have
done better thaTi choose for his companion one who, at the
close of a long intercourse, had endeavored, as he knew, to
wound my feelings. I am not quite sure that this was delicate
in Mr. Pinch. I am nor quite sure that this was kind in Mr.
Pinch. I will go further and say, I am not quite sure that
this was even ordinarily grateful in Mr. Pinch."

" But what can anyone expect from Mr. Pinch ! " cried
Charity, with as strong and scornful an emphasis on the name
as if it would have given her unspeakable pleasure to express
it, in an acted charade, on the calf of that gentleman's leg.

" Ay, ay," returned her father, raising his hand mildly :
" it is very well to say what can we expect from Mr. Pinch, but
Mr. Pinch is a fellow-creature, my dear ; Mr. Pinch is an item
in the vast total of humanity, my love ; and we have a right, it
is our duty, to expect in Mr. Pinch some development of those
better qualities, the possession of which in our own persons
inspires our humble self-respect. No," continued Mr. Peck-
sniff. " No ! Heaven forbid that I should say, nothing can
be expected from Mr. Pinch ; or that I should say, nothing
can be expected from any man alive (even the most degraded,
which Mr. Pinch is not, no really) ; but Mr. Pinch has disap-
pointed me : he has hurt me : I think a little the worse of him
on this account, but not of human nature. Oh no, no ! "

" Hark ! " said Miss Charity, holding up her finger, as a
gentle rap was heard at the street-door. " There is the crea-
ture ! Now mark my words, he has come back with John
Westlock for his box, and is going to help him to take it to
the mail. Only mark my words, if that isn't his intention ! "

24 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Even as she spoke, the box appeared to be in progress or
conveyance from the house, but after a brief murmuring of
question and answer, it was put down again, and somebody
knocked at the parlor door.

" Come in ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff — not severely ; only
virtuously. " Come in ! "

An ungainly, awkward-looking man, extremely short-
sighted, and prematurely bald, availed himself of this permis-
sion ; and seeing that Mr. Pecksniff sat with his back towards
him, gazing at the fire, stood hesitating, with the door in his
hand. He was far from handsome certainly ; and was drest
in a snuff-colored suit, of an uncouth make at the best, which,
being shrunk with long wear, was twisted and tortured into
all kinds of odd shapes ; but notwithstanding his attire, and
his clumsy figure, which a great stoop in his shoulders, and a
ludicrous habit he had of thrusting his head forward, by no
means redeemed, one would not have been disposed (unless
Mr. Pecksniff said so) to consider him a bad fellow by any
means. He was perhaps about thirty, but he might have
been almost any age between sixteen and sixty : being one of
those strange creatures who never decline into an ancient
appearance, but look their oldest when they are very young,
and get it over at once.

Keeping his hand upon the lock of the door, he glanced
from Mr. Pecksniff to Mercy, from Mercy to Charity, and
from Charity to Mr. Pecksniff again, several times ; but the
young ladies being as intent upon the fire as their father was,
and neither of the three taking any notice of him, he was fain
to say, at last,

" Oh ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Pecksniff : I beg your par-'
don for intruding \ but — "

"No intrusion, Mr. Pinch," said that gentleman very
sweetly, but without looking round. " Pray be seated, Mr.
Pinch. Have the goodness to shut the door, Mr. Pinch, if you
please."

" Certainly, sir," said Pinch : not doing so, however, but
holding it rather wider open than before, and beckoning ner-
vously to somebody without : " Mr. Westlock, sir, hearing
that. you were come home — "

" Mr. Pinch, Mr. Pinch ! " said Pecksniff, wheeling his
chair about, and looking at him with an aspect of the deepest
melancholy, " I did not expect this from you. I have not
deserved this from you ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 25

" No, but upon my word, sir " — urged Pinch,

"The less you say, Mr. Pinch," interposed the other, "the
better. I utter no complaint. Make no defence."

" No, but do have the goodness, sir," cried Pinch, with
great earnestness, "if you please. Mr. Westlock, sir, going
away for good and all, wishes to leave none but friends behind
him. Mr. Westlock and you, sir, had a little difference the
other day ; you have had many little differences."

" Little differences I " cried Charity.

" Little differences ! " echoed Mercy.

"My loves!" said Mr. Pecksniff, with the same serene
upraising of his hand ; " my dears ! " After a solemn pause
he meekly bowed to Mr. Pinch, as who should say, " Pro-
ceed ; " but Mr. Pinch was so very much at a loss how to
resume, and looked so helplessly at the two Miss Pecksniffs,
that the conversation would most probably have terminated
there, if a good-looking youth, newly arrived at man's estate,
had not stepped forward from the doorway and taken up the
thread of the discourse.

" Come, Mr. Pecksniff," he said, with a smile, " don't let
there be any ill-blood between us, pray. I am sorry we have
ever differed, and extremely sorry 1 have ever given you
offence. Bear me no ill-will at parting, sir."

" I bear," answered Mr. Picksniff, mildly, " no ill-will to
any man on earth."

" I told you he didn't," said Pinch, in an undertone ; " I
knew he didn't ! Pie always says he don't."

"Then you will shake hands, sir?" cried Westlock, ad-
vancing a step or two, and bespeaking Mr. Pinch's close at-
tention by a glance.

" Umph ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, in his most winning tone.

" You will shake hands, sir."

"No, John," said Mr. Pecksniff with a calmness quite
ethereal ; " no, I will not shake hands, John. 1 have forgiven
you. I had already forgiven you, even before you ceased to
reproach and taunt me. I have embraced you in the spirit,
John, which is better than shaking hands."

" Pinch," said the youth, turning towards him, with a
hearty disgust of his late master, " what did I tell you ? "

Poor Pinch looked down uneasily at Mr. Pecksniff, whose
eye was fixed upon him as it had been from the first : and
looking up at the ceiling again, made no reply.

"As to your forgiveness, Mr. Pecksniff," said the youth.
" I'll not have it upon such terms. I won't be forgiven."

26 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Won't you, John ? " retorted Mr. Pecksniff, with a smile.
" You must. You can't help it. Forgiveness is a high
quality ; an exalted virtue ; far above your control or influ-
ence, John. I will forgive you. You cannot move me to
remember any wrong you have ever done me, John."

" Wrong ! " cried the other, with all the heat and impetu-
osity of his age. " Here's a pretty' fellow ! Wrong ! Wrong
I have done him ! He'll not even remember the five hundred
pounds he had with me under false pretences ; or the seventy
pounds a-year for board and lodging that would have been
dear at seventeen ! Here's a martyr ! "

" Money, John," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is the root of all
evil. I grieve to see that it is already bearing evil fruit in
you. But I will not remember its existence. I will not even
remember the conduct of that misguided person " — and here,
although he spoke like one at peace with all the world, he used
an emphasis that plainly said ' I have my eye upon the rascal
now ' — " that misguided person who has brought you here to-
night, seeking to disturb (it is a happiness to say, in vain) the
heart's repose and peace of one who would have shed his
dearest blood to serve him."

The voice of Mr. Pecksniff trembled as he spoke, and sobs
were heard from his daughters. Sounds floated on the air,
moreover, as if two spirit voices had exclaimed : one, " Beast ! "
the other, " Savage ! "

"Forgiveness," said Mr. Pecksniff, "entire and pure for-
giveness is not incompatible with a wounded heart ; perchance
when the heart is wounded, it becomes a greater virtue.
With my breast still wrung and grieved to its inmost core by
the ingratitude of that person, I am proud and glad to say,
that I forgive him. Nay ! I beg," cried Mr. Pecksniff', raising
his voice, as Pinch appeared about to speak, " I beg that in-
dividual not to offer a remark ; he will truly oblige me by not
uttering one word, just now. I am not sure that I am equal
to the trial. In a very short space of time, I shall have suffi-
cient fortitude, I trust, to converse with him as if these events
had never happened. But not," said Mr. Picksniff, 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."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

27

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 parlor
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 in-
tervals into another, and another. Still there was no response
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 I haven't, 1 suppose, I'm all
the better for it."

" All the better ! " repeated his companion tartly : " 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, too, 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 ! "

" He grieved ! " returned the other,

" Why didn't you observe that the tears were almost start-
ing out of his eyes ! " 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 he could
have shed his blood for me ? "

" Do you We?;// any blood shed for you ? " returned 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 ? Does he shed even
legs of mutton for you in any decent proportion to potatoes
and garden stuff ? "

" I am afraid," said Pinch, sigliing again, " that I am a
great eater : I can't disguise from myself that I'm a great
eater. Now, you know that, John."

" You a great eater ! " retorted his companion, with no

28 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

less indignation than before. " How do you know you
are ? "

There appeared to be forcible matter in this inquir}-, for Mr.
Pinch only repeated in an undertone that he had a strong
misgiving on the subject, 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 me ungrateful. John, there
is scarcely a sin in the world that is in my eyes such a crying
one as ingratitude ; and when he taxes me with that, and be-
lieves me to be guilty of it, he makes me miserable and
wretched."

" Do you think he don't know that .-' " returned the other
scornfully. " But come. Pinch, before I say anything more to
you, I must run over the reasons you have for being grateful to
him at all, will you ? change hands first, for the box is heavy.
That'll do. Now, go on."

" In the first place," said Pinch, " he took me as his pupil
for much 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 grandmother died happy to tliink that she had 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 im-
prove 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 than I : that I was born for much plainer and poorer
things, that I am not a good hand for his kind of business,
and have no talent for it, or indeed 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 instinctively 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 shoulder.

" 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 Peck-
sniff as well as I do, you might say it of him, indeed, and say
it truly."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

29

"I'll say anything of him, you like," returned the other,
" and not another word to his disparagement."

" 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 of your happiness and
advancement, which he knew (and no man better) never would
be realized ! He never speculated and traded on her pride in
you, and her having educated you, and on her desire that you
at least should live to be a gentleman. Not he, Tom ! "

" No," said Tom, looking into his friend's face, as if he were
a little doubtful of his meaning; " of course not."

" So I say," returned the youth, " of course he 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 is of
inestimable service in all his mean disputes ; because your
honesty reflects honesty on him ; because your wandering about
this little place all your spare hours, reading in ancient books
and foreign tongues, gets noised abroad, even as far as Salis-
bury, making of him, Pecksniff the master, a man of learning
and of vast importance. He gets no credit from you, Tom, not
he."

" Why, of course he don't," said Pinch, gazing at his friend
with a more troubled aspect than before. " Pecksniff get
credit from Mel Well! "

" Don't I say that it's ridiculous," rejoined the other," even
to think of such a thing ? "

" Why, it's madness," said Tom.

" Madness ! " returned young Westlock. " Certainly, 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 a man as he, to have his
name in everybody's mouth, connected with the thousand use-

30 MARTI A"- CHUZZLEIVIT.

less odds and ends you do (and which, of course, he taught
you), eh, Tom ? Who but a madman would suppose you adver-
tised him hereabouts, much cheaper and much better than a
chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom ? As well might one sup-
pose 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
indeed rather an extravagant allowance ; or, to be more wild
and monstrous still, if that be possible, as well might one sup-
pose," and here, at every word, he struck him lightly on the
breast, " that Pecksniff traded in your nature, and that your
nature was, to be timid and distrustful of yourself, and trust-
ful of all other men, but most of all, of him who least deserves
it. There would be madness, Tom ! "

Mr. Pinch had listened to all this with looks of bewilder-
ment, which seemed to be in part occasioned 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 if he were un-
able to settle in his own mind what expression it wore, and
were desirous to draw from it as good a clue to his real meaning
as it was possible to obtain in the dark, was about to answer,
when the sound of the mail guard's horn came cheerily upon
their ears, putting an immediate end to the conference :
greatly as it seemed to the satisfaction of the younger man,
who jumped up briskly, and gave his hand to his companion.

" Both hands, Tom. I shall write to yoii from London,
mind ! "

"Yes," said Pinch. "Yes. Do, please. Goodbye. Good
bye. I can hardly believe you're going. It seems, now, but
yesterday that you came. Good bye ! my dear old fellow ! "
John Westlock returned his parting words with no less hearti-
ness 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, far
and wide.

" Go your ways," said Pinch, apostrophizing the coach :
" I can hardly persuade myself but you're alive, and are some
great monster who visits this place at certain intervals, to
bear" my friends away into the world. You're more exulting
and rampant than usual tonight, 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 Pecksniff ! "

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 31

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH CERTAIN OTHER PERSONS ARE INIRODUCED : 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 vil-
lage 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 color from a gaudy blue to a faint lack-lustre shade
of gi'ay. But there he hung, rearing, in a state of monstrous
imbecility, on his hind 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 other.
He was a courteous and considerate dragon too ; or had been
in his distincter days ; for in the midst of his rampant feeble-
ness, 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 entreaty. Indeed
it must be conceded to the whole brood of dragons of modern
times, that they have made a great advance in civilization and
refinement. They no longer demand a beautiful virgin for
breakfast every morning, with as much regularity 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 refer-
ence to their inclinations, 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. Pecksniff's
neighborhood, and that courteous animal being already on the
carpet, there is nothing in the way of its immediate transaction.

For many years, then, he had swung and creaked, and llap-
ed himself about, before the two windows of the l)est bed-
room in that house of entertainment to which he lent his name ;

32 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

but never in all his swinging, creaking, and flapping, had there
been such a stir within its ding}' precincts, as on the evening
next after that upon which the incidents, detailed in the last
chapter, occurred ; when there was such a hurrying up and
down stairs of feet, such a glancing of lights, such a whispering
of voices, such a smoking and sputtering of wood newly lighted
in a damp chimney, such an airing of linen, such a scorching
smell of hot warming-pans, such a domestic bustle and to-do,
in short, as never dragon, griffin, unicorn or other animal of
that species presided over, since they first began to interest
themselves in household affairs.

An old gentleman and a young lady, travelling, unattended,
in a rusty old chariot with post-horses ; coming nobody knew
whence, and going nobody knew whither ; had turned out of
the high road, and driven unexpectedly to the Blue Dragon ;
and here was the old gentleman, who had taken this step by
reason of his sudden illness in the carriage, suffering the most
horrible cramps and spasms, yet protesting and vowing in the
very midst of his pain, that he wouldn't have a doctor sent
for, and wouldn't take any remedies but those which the young
lady administered from a small medicine-chest, and wouldn't,
in a word, do anything but terrify the landlady out of her five
wits, and obstinately refuse compliance with every suggestion
that was made to him.

Of all the five hundred proposals for his relief which the
good woman poured out in less than half-an-hour, he would
entertain but one. That was, that he should go to bed. And
it was in the preparation of his bed, and the arrangement of
his chamber, that all the stir was made in the room behind
the Dragon.

He was, beyond all question, ver}' ill, and suffered exceed-
ingly : not the less, perhaps, because he was a strong and
vigorous old man, with a will of iron, and a voice of brass.
But neither the apprehensions which he plainly entertained,
at times, for his life, nor the great pain he underwent, influ-
enced his resolution in the least degree. He would have no
person sent for. The worse he grew, the more rigid and in-
flexible he became in his determination. If they sent for any
person to attend him, man, woman, or child, he would leave
the house directly (so he told them), though he quitted it on
foot, and died upon the threshold of the door.

Now, there being no medical practitioner actually resi-
dent in the village but a poor apothecary, who was also a

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. t^t^

grocer and general dealer, the landlady had, upon her own
responsibility, sent for him, in the very first burst and outset
of the disaster. Of course it followed, as a necessary result
of his being wanted, that he was not at home. He had gone
some miles away, and was not expected home until late at •
night ; so, the landlady, being by this time pretty well beside
herself, despatched the same messenger in all haste for Mr.
Pecksniff, as a learned man who could bear a deal of respon-
sibility, and a moral man who could administer a world of
comfort to a troubled mind. That her guest had need of
some efiicient services under the latter head was obvious enough
from the restless expressions, importing, however, rather a
worldly than a spiritual anxiety, to which he gave frequent
utterance.

From this last-mentioned secret errand the messenger
returned with iro better new^s than from the first ; Mr. Peck-
sniff was not at home. However, they got the patient into
bed without him ; and in the course of two hours, he gradu-
ally became so far better that there were much longer inter-
vals than at first between his terms of suffering. By degrees,
he ceased to suffer at all. though his exhaustion was occa-
sionally so great, that it suggested hardly less alarm than his
actual endurance had done.

It was in one of his intervals of repose, when, looking
round with great caution, and reaching uneasily out of his
nest of pillows, he endeavored, with a strange air of secrecy and
distrust, to make use of the writing materials which he had
ordered to be placed on a table beside him, that the young
lady and the mistress of the Llue Dragon, found themselves
sitting side by side before the fire in the sick chamber.

This mistress of the Blue Dragon was in outward appear-
ance just what a landlady should be : broad, buxom, comfort-
able, and good-looking, with a face of clear red and white,
which, by its jovial aspect, at once bore testimony to her
hearty participation in the good things of the larder and cel-
lar, and to their thriving and healthful influences. She was
a widow, but years ago had passed through her state of weeds,
and burst into flower again ; and in full bloom she had con-
tinued ever since ; and in full bloom she was now ; with
roses on her ample skirts, and roses on her boddice, roses in
her cap, roses in her cheeks, — ay, and roses, worth the gather-
ing too, on her lips, for that matter. She had still a bright
black eye, and jet black hair ; was comely, dimpled, plump,

3

34 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

and tight as a gooseberry ; and though she was not exactly
what the world calls young, you may make an affidavit, on
trust, before any mayor or magistrate in Christendom, that
there are a great many young ladies in the world (blessings on
them, one and all !) whom you wouldn't like half as well, or ad-
mire half as much, as the beaming hostess of the Blue Dragon.

As this fair matron sat beside the fire, she glanced occa-
sionally, with all the pride of ownership, about the room ;
which was a large apartment, such as one may see in country
places, with a low roof and a sunken flooring, all down-hill
from the door, and a descent of two steps on the inside so
exquisitely unexpected, that strangers, despite the most elab-
orate cautioning, usually dived in head-first, as into a plung-
ing-bath. It was none of your frivolous and preposterously
bright bedrooms, where nobody can close an eye with any
kind of propriety or decent regard to the association of ideas •
but it was a good, dull, leaden, drowsy place, where every ar-
ticle of furniture reminded you that you came there to sleep,
and that you were expected to go to sleep. There was no
wakeful reflection of the fire there, as in vour modern cham-
bers, which upon the darkest nights have a watchful conscious-
ness of French polish ; the old Spanish mahogany winked at
it now and then, as a dozing cat or dog might, nothing more.
The very size and shape, and hopeless immovability, of the
bedstead, and wardrobe, and in a minor degree of even the
chairs and tables, provoked sleep ; they were plainly apoplec-
tic and disposed to snore. There were no staring portraits
to remonstrate with you for being lazy ; no round-eyed birds
upon the curtains, disgustingly wide awake, and insufferably
prying. The thick neutral hangings, and the dark blinds, and
the heavy heap of bed-clothes, were all designed to hold in
sleep, and act as non-conductors to the day and getting up.
Even the old stuffed fox upon the top of the wardrobe was
devoid of any spark of vigilance, for his glass eye had fallen
out, and he slumbered as he stood.

The wandering attention of the mistress of the Blue Dra-
gon roved to these things but twice or thrice, and then for but
an instant at a time. It soon deserted them, and even the dis-
tant- bed with its strange burden, for the young creature im-
mediately before her, who, with her downcast eyes intently
fixed upon the fire, sat wrapped in silent meditation.

She was very young, apparently no more than seventeen ;
timid and shrinking in her manner, and yet with a greater

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT.

35

share of self-possession and control over her emotions than
usually belongs to a far more advanced period of female life.
This she had abundantly shown, but now, in her tending of
the sick gentleman. She v/as short in stature ; and her figure
was slight, as became her years ; but all the charms of youth
and maidenhood set it off, and clustered on her gentle brow.
Her face was very pale, in part no doubt from recent agita-
tion. Her dark brown hair, disordered from the same cause,
had fallen negligently from its bonds, and hung upon her
neck ; for which instance of its waywardness, no male ob-
server would have had the heart to blame it.

Her attire was that of a lady, but extremely plain ; and in
her manner, even when she sat as still as she did then, there
was an indefinable something which appeared to be in kindred
with her scrupulously unpretending dress. She had sat, at
first looking anxiously towards the bed ; but seeing that the
patient remained quiet, and v>as busy with his writing, she had
softly moved her chair into its present place ; partly, as it
seemed, from an instinctive consciousness that he desired to
avoid observation \ and partly that she might, unseen by him,
give some vent to the natural feelings she had hitherto sup-
pressed.

Of all this, and much more, the rosy landlady of the Blue
Dragon took as accurate note and observation as only woman
can take of woman. And at length she said, in a voice too
low, she knew, to reach the bed :

" You have seen the gentleman in this way before, miss .''
Is he used to these attacks ? "

" I have seen him very ill before, but not so ill as he has
been to-night."

" What a providence 1 " said the landlady of the Dragon,
" that you had the prescriptions and the medicines with you,
miss ? "

" They are intended for such an emergency. We never
travel without them."

" Oh ! " thought the hostess, "then we are in the habit of
travelling, and of travelling together."

She was so conscious of expressing this in her face, that
meeting the young lady's eyes immediately afterwards, and
being a very honest hostess, she was rather confused.

" l"he gentleman — your grandpapa" — she resumed, after
a short pause, " being so bent on having no assistance, must
terrify you very much, miss ? "

36

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

• I have been very much alarmed to-night. He — he is
not my grandfather."

" Father, I should have said," returned the hostess, sensi-
ble of having made an awkward mistake.

" Nor my father," said the young lady. " Nor," she added,
slightly smiling with a quick perception of what the landlady
was going to add, " Nor my uncle. We are not related."

" Oh dear me ! " returned the landlady, still more embar-
rassed than before : " how could I be so very much mistaken ;
knowing, as anybody in their proper senses might, that when
a gentleman is ill, he looks so much older than he really is ?
That I should have called you ' Miss,' too. Ma'am ! ' But
when she had proceeded thus far, she glanced involuntarily at
the third finger of the young lady's left hand, and faltered
again : for there was no ring upon it.

" When I told you we were not related," said the other
mildly, but not without confusion on her own part, " I meant
not in any way. Not even by marriage. Did you call me
Martin ? "

" Call you ? " cried the old man, looking quickly up, and
hurriedly drawing beneath the coverlet, the paper on which he
had been writing. " No."

She had moved a pace or two towards the bed, but
stopped immediately, and went no farther.

" No," he repeated, with a petulant emphasis. " Why do
you ask me .-• If 1 had called you, what need for such a ques-
tion ? "

" It was the creaking of the sign outside, sir, I dare say,"
obser\-ed the landlady : a suggestion by the way (as she felt a
moment after she had made it), not at all complimentary to
the voice of the old gentleman.

" No matter what, ma'am," he rejoined : " it wasn't I.
Why how you stand there, Mary, as if I had the plague ! But
they're all afraid of me," he added, leaning helplessly back-
ward on his pillow ; " even she ! There is a curse upon me.
What else have 1 to look for ! "

" Oh dear, no. Oh no, I'm sure," said the good-tempered
landlady, rising, and going towards him. " Be of better cheer,
sir. These are only sick fancies."

" What are only sick fancies t " he retorted. " What do
you know about fancies ? Who told yon about fancies ? The
old story ! Fancies ! "

" Only see again there, how you take one up ! " said the

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 37

mistress of the Blue Dragon, with unimpaired good humor
" Dear heart alive, there is no harm in the word, sir, if it is an
old one. Folks in good health have their fancies too, and
strange ones, every day."

Harmless as this speech appeared to be, it acted on the
traveller's distrust, like oil on tire. He raised his head up in
the bed, and, fixing on her two dark eyes whose brightness
was exaggerated by the paleness of his hollow cheeks, as they
in turn, together with his straggling locks of long gray hair,
were rendered whiter by the tight black velvet skull-cap which
he wore, he searched her face intently.

"Ah ! you begin too soon," he said, in so low a voice that
he seemed to be thinking it, rather than addressing her.
" But you lose no time. You do your errand, and you earn
your fee. Now, w^ho may be your client .-* "

The landlady looked in great astonishment at her whom
he called Mar}^, and finding no rejoinder in the drooping face,
looked back again at him. At first she had recoiled involun-
tarily, supposing 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 we 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
favor of the landlady, but either remembering her tender nurs-
ing, or being moved in some sort, by her face, he checked
himself, and changing his uneasy posture in the bed, was si-
lent.

" There ! " said Mrs. Lupin ; for in that name the Blue
Dragon was licensed to furnish entertainment, both to man
and beast. " Now, you will be well again, sir. You forgot,
for the moment, that there were none but friends here."

" Oh ! " cried the old man, moaning impatiently, as he
tossed one restless arm upon the coverlet ; " why do you talk
to me of friends ! Can you or anybody teach me to know who
are my friends, and who my enemies ? "

" At least," urged Mrs. Lupin, gently, "this young lady is
your friend, I am sure."

38

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT.

" She has no temptation to be otherwise," cried the old
man, Uke one whose hope and confidence were utterly ex-
hausted. " 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 extinguished
the light, and turning his face away with a heavy sigh, drew
tlie coverlet about his head, and lay quite still.

This destruction of the paper, both as being, strangely in-
consistent with the labor he had devoted to it and as involv-
ing considerable danger of fire to the Dragon, occasioned Mrs.
Lupin not a little consternation. But the young lady evincing
no surprise, curiosity, or alarm, whispered her, with many
thanks for her solicitude and company, that she would re-
main there some time longer ; and that she begged her not
to share her watch, as she was wqU used to being alone, and
would pass the time in reading.

Mrs. Lupin had her full share and dividend of that large
capital of curiosity which is inherited by her sex, and at
another time it might have been difiicult so to impress this
hint upon her as to induce her to take it. But now, in sheer
wonder and amazement at these mysteries, she withdrew at
once, and repairing straightway to her own little parlor below-
stairs, sat down in her easy-chair with unnatural composure.
At this very crisis, a step was heard in the entry, and Mr.
Pecksniff, looking sweetly over the half-door of the bar, and
into the vista of snug privacy beyond, murmured :

" Good evening, Mrs. Lupin ! "

" Oh dear me, sir ! " she cried, advancing to receive him,
" I am so very glad you have come."

" And /am very glad I have come," said Mr. Pecksniff,
" if I can be of service. I am very glad I ha\e come. What
is the matter Mrs. Lupin .'' " f

" A gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very
bad up stairs, sir," said the tearful hostess.

"A gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very
bad up stairs, has he ? " repeated Mr. Pecksniff. " Well
well!"

Now there was nothing that one may call decidedly original
in this remark, nor can it be exactly said to have contained
any wise precept theretofore unknown to mankind, or to have
opened any hidden source of consolation ; but Mr. Pecksniff's

MARTI.V CIIUZZLEWIT. 39

manner was so bland, and he nodded his head so soothingly,
and showed in every thing such an affable sense of his own
excellence, that anybody would have been, as Mrs. Lupin was,
comforted by the mere voice and presence of such a man ;
and, though he had merely said " a verb must agree with its
nominative case in number and person, m}- good friend," or
"eight times eight are sixty-four, my worthy soul," must
have felt deeply grateful to him for his humanity and wis-
dom.

" And how," asked Mr. Pecksniff, drawing off his gloves
and warming his hands before the fire, as benevolently as if
they 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 INIr. Pecksniff.
"Very well ! vQrry well ! "

Here again, though the statement was Mrs. Lupin's and
not Mr. Pecksniff's, Mr. Pecksniff made it his own and con-
soled her with it. It was not much when Mrs. Lupin said it,
but it was a whole book when Mr. Pecksniff said it. " /
observe," 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 some proper advice from those whose
goodness makes it worth 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. Pie only shook his 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 floor. " I am very much
afraid, sir, that his conscience is troubled by his not being
related to — or — or even married to — a very young lady — "

" Mrs. Lupin ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, holding up his hand
with something in his manner as nearly approaching to se-
verity, as any expression of his, mild being that was, could
ever do. " Person ! Young person .'' "

"A ver)' young person," said Mrs. Lupin, courtesying and
blushing : " — I beg your pardon, sir, but 1 have been so hur-
ried to-night, that I don't know what I say — who is v»ith him
now."

40 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"Who is with him now," ruminated Mr. Pecksniff, warm-
ing his back (as he had warmed his hands) as if it were a
widow's back, or an orphan's back, or an enemy's back, or a
back that any less excellent man would 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, earnestly, "that her looks
and manner almost disarm suspicion."

" Your suspicion, Mrs. Lupin," said Mr. Pecksniff gravely,
" is very natural."

Touching which remark, let it be written down to their
confusion, that the enemies of this worthy man unblushingly
maintained that he always said of what was very bad, that it
was very natural ; and that he unconsciously betrayed his own
nature in doing so.

"Your suspicion, Mrs. Lupin," he repeated, "is ver}'
natural, and I have no doubt correct. I will wait upon these
travellers."

With that he took off his great-coat, and having run his
fingers through his hair, thrust one hand gently in the
bosom of his 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 tire,

" I am afraid," said Mr. Pecksniff, pausing at the door,
and giving his head a melancholy roll, " 1 am afraid that this
looks artful. I am afraid, Mrs. Lupin, do you know, that this
looks very artful ! "

As he finished this whisper, he advanced, before the host-
ess ; 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 de-
spondency.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, " it is a good book. I was fearful
of that beforehand. I am apprehensive that this is a very
deep thing indeed ! "

"What gentleman is this?" inquired the object of his
virtuous doubts.

MARTIiV CHUZZLEWIT. 41

" Hush ! don't trouble yourself, ma'am," said Mr. Pecksniff,
as the landlady was about to answer. " This young " — in
spite of himself he hesitated when ' person ' rose to his lips,
and substituted another word : " this young stranger, Mrs.
Lupin, will excuse me for replying briefly, that I reside in this
village ; it may be in an influential manner, however unde-
served ; and that I have been summoned here, by you. I
am here, as I am everywhere, I hope, in sympathy for the sick
and sorry."

With these impressive words, Mr. Pecksniff passed over
to the bedside, where, after patting the counterpane once or
twice in a very solemn manner, as if by that means he gained
a clear insight into the patient's disorder, he took his seat in a
large arm-chair, and in an attitude of some thoughtfulness and
much comfort, 'waited for his waking. Whatever objection
the young lady urged to Mrs. Lupin went no further, for
nothing more was said to Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Pecksniff
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. Pecksniff 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 visitor, without any distinct consciousness of his presence.

There was nothing remarkable in these proceedings, ex-
cept the influence they worked on Mr. Pecksniff, which could
hardly have been surpassed by the most marvellous of natural
phenomena. Gradually his hands became tightly clasped
upon the elbows of his 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 rose
in bed, and stared at him with scarcely less emotion than he
showed himself, the Pecksniff doubts were all resolved, and he
exclaimed aloud :

" You are Martin Chuzzlewit ! "

His consternation of surprise was so genuine, that the old
man, with all the disposition that he clearly entertained to
believe it assumed, was convinced of its realit}'.

" I am Martin Chuzzlewit," he said : "and Martin Chuz-
zlewit wishes you had been hanged, before you had come here
to disturb him in his sleep. Why, I dreamed of this fellow ! "

42 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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, shak-
ing his gray head to and fro upon the pillow, and throwing
up his hands. " In his very first words he asserts his relation-
ship ! I knew he would : they all do it ! Near or distant, blood
or water, it's all one. Ugh ! What a calendar of deceit, and
lying, and false-witnessing, the sound 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 sublimest degree compas-
sionate and dispassionate ; for he had by this time recovered
from his surprise, and was in full possession of his virtuous
self. " You will regret being hasty, I know you will."

" You know 1 " said Martin, contemptuously.

" Yes," retorted Mr. Pecksniff. "Ay, ay, Mr. Chuzzlewit :
and don't imagine that I 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 obnoxious
word which has given you so much offence already, ^^'hy
should I ? What do I expect or want from you .-' There is
nothing in your possession that / know of, Mr. Chuzzlewit,
which is much to be coveted for the happiness it brings you."

" That's true enough," muttered the old man.

"Apart from that consideration," said Mr. Pecksniff, watch-
ful of the effect he made, " it must be plain to you (1 am
sure) by this time, that if I had wished to insinuate myself
into your good opinion, I should have been, of all things,
careful not to address you as a relati\e : knowing your humor,
and being quite certain before hand that I could not have a
worse letter of recommendation."

Martin made not any verbal answer ; but he as clearly
implied, though only by a motion of his legs beneath the
bedclothes, that there was reason in this, and that he could
not dispute it, as if he had said as much in good set terms.

" No," said Mr. Pecksniff, keeping his hand in his waist-
coat as though he were ready, on the shortest notice, to pro-
duce his heart for Martin Chuzzlewit's inspection, " I came here
to offer my services to a stranger. T make no offer of them
to you, because I know you would distrust me if I did. But
lying on that bed, sir, I regard you as a stranger, and I have
just that amount of interest in you which I hope I should feel

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 43

in any stranger, circumstanced as you are. Beyond that, I am
quite as indifferent to you, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as you are to me."

Ha\'ingsaid which, Mr. Pecksniff threw himseff back in the
easy-chair : so radiant with ingenuous lionesty, that Mrs. Lupin
almost wondered not to see a stained-glass Glory, such as the
Saint wore in the church, shining about his head.

A long pause succeeded. The old man, with increased
restlessness, changed his posture several times. Mrs. Lupin
and the young lady gazed in silence at the counterpane. Mr.
Pecksniff toyed abstractedly with his eye-glass, and kept his
eyes shut, that he might ruminate the better.

" Eh ? " he said at last, opening them suddenly, and looking
towards the bed. " I beg your pardon. I thought you spoke.
Mrs. Lupin," he continued, slowly rising, "I am not aware
that I can be of any service to you here. The gentleman is
better, and you are as good a nurse as he can have. Eh ? "

This last note of interrogation bore reference to another
cliange of posture on the old man's part, which brought his
face towards Mr. Pecksniff for the first time since he had
turned away from him.

" If you desire to speak to me before I go, sir," continued
that gentleman, after another pause, " you may command my
leisure ; but I must stipulate, in justice to myself, that you do
so as to a stranger: strictly as to a stranger."

Now if Mr. Pecksniff knew, from anything Martin Chuzzlewit
had expressed in gestures, that he wanted to speak to him, he
could only have found it out on some such principle as prevails
in melodramas, and in virtue of which the elderly farmer with
the comic son always knows what the dumb-girl means when
she takes refuge in his garden, and relates her personal me-
moirs in incomprehensible pantomime. But without stopping to
make any inquiry on this point, Martin Chuzzlewit signed to
his young companion to withdraw, which she immediately did,
along with the landlady, leaving him and Mr. Pecksniff alone
together. For some time they looked at each other in silence ;
or rather the old man looked at Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Peck-
sniff, again closing his eyes on all outward objects, took an
inward survey of his own breast. That it amply repaid him
for his trouble, and afforded a delicious and enchanting pros-
pect, was clear from the expression of his face.

" You wish me to speak to you as to a total stranger," said
the old man, " do you ? "

Mr. Pecksniff replied, by a shrug of his shoulders and an

^4 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

apparent turning-round of his eyes in their sockets before he
opened them, that he was still reduced to the necessity of en-
tertaining that desire.

" You shall be gratified," said Martin. " Sir, I am a rich
man. Not so rich as some suppose, perhaps, but yet wealthy.
I am not a miser, sir, though even that charge is made against
me, as I hear, and currently believed. I have no pleasure in
hoarding. I have no pleasure in the possession of money.
The devil that we call by that name can give me nothing but
unhappiness."

It would be no description of Mr. Pecksniff's gentleness of
manner to adopt the common parlance, and say, that he looked
at this moment as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He
rather looked as if any quantity of butter might have been
made out of him, by churning the milk of human kindness,
as it spouted upwartls from his heart.

" For the same reason that I am not a hoarder of money,"
said the old man, " I am not lavish of it. Some people find
their gratification in storing it up ; and others theirs in parting
with it ; but I have no gratification connected with the thing.
Pain and bitterness are the only goods it ever could procure
forme. I hate it. It is a spectre walking before me through
the world, and making eveiy social pleasure hideous."

A thought arose in Mr. Pecksniff's mind, which must have
instantly mounted to his face, or Martin Chuzzlevvit would not
have resumed as quickly and as sternly as he did :

" You would advise me for my peace of mind, to get rid of
this source of misery, and transfer it to some one who could
bear it better. Even you, perhaps, would rid me of a burden
under which I suffer so grievously. But, kind stranger," said
the old man, whose every feature darkened as he spoke,
"good Christian stranger, that is a main part of my trouble.
In other hands, I have known money do good : in other hands
I have known it triumphed in, and boasted of with reason, as
the master-key to all the brazen gates that close upon the paths
to worldly honor, fortune, and enjoyment. To what man or
woman ; to what worthy, honest, incorruptible creature ; shall
I confide such a talisman, either now or when I die? Do you
know any such person ? Your virtues are of course inesti-
mable, but can you tell me of any other living creature who
will bear the test of contact with myself?"

" Of contact with yourself, sir?'" echoed Mr. Pecksniff.

** Ay," returned the old man, " the test of contact with me —

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 45

with me. You have heard of him whose misery (the gratifi-
cation of his own fooUsh wish) was, that lie turned everj'thing
he touched into gold. Tlie curse of my existence, and the
realization of my own mad desire, is that by the golden standard
which I bear about me, I am doomed to tr^' the mettle of all
other men, and find it false and hollow."

Mr. Pecksniff shook his head, and said, "You think so."

" Oh yes," cried the old man, " I think so ! and in your tell-
ing me ' 1 think so,' I recognize the true unworldly ring of
your metal. I tell you, man," he added, with increasing bitter-
ness, " that I have gone, a rich man, among people of all
grades and kinds ; relatives, friends, and strangers ; among
people in whom, when I was poor, 1 had confidence, and justly,
for they never once deceived me then, or, to me, wronged each
other. But I have never found one nature, no, not one, in
which, being wealthy and alone, I was not forced to detect the
latent corruption that lay hid within it, waiting for such as I to
bring it forth. Treacher^', deceit, and low design ; hatred of
competitors, real or fancied, for my favor ; meanness, falsehood,
baseness, and servility ; or," and here he looked closely in his
cousin's eyes, " or an assumption of honest independence,
almost worse than all ; these are the beauties which my wealth
has brought to light. Brother against brother, child against
parent, friends treading on the faces of friends, this is the social
company by whom my way has been attended. There are
stories told — they may be true or false — of rich men, who, in
the garb of poverty, ha\e found out virtue and rewarded it.
They were dolts and idiots for their pains. They should have
made the search in their own characters. They should have
shown themselves fit objects to l^e robbed and preyed upon
and plotted against and adulated by any knaves, wlio, but for
joy, would have spat upon their coffins when they died their
dupes ; and then their search would have ended as mine has
done, and they would be what I am."

Mr. Pecksniff, not at all knowing what it might be best to say
in the momentary' pause which ensued upon these remarks,
made an elaborate demonstration of intending to deliver some-
thing ver)' oracular indeed : trusting to the certainty of the old
man interrupting him, before he sliould utter a word. Nor
was he mistaken, for Martin Chuzzlewit having taken breath,
went on to say :

" Hear me to an end ; judge what profit you are like to gain
from any repetition of this \isit ; and leave me. I have so

46 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

corrupted. and changed the nature of all those who have ever
attended on me, by breeding avaricious plots and hopes within
them ; I have engendered such domestic strife and discord, by
tarrying even with members of my own family ; I have been
such a lighted torch in peaceful homes, kindling up all the
inflammable gases and vapors in their moral atmosphere,
which, but for me, might have proved harmless to the end;
that I have, I may say, fled from all who knew me, and taking
refuge in secret places have lived, of late, the life of one who
is hunted. The young girl whom you just now saw — what !
your eye lightens when I talk of her ! You hate her already,
do you .'' "

" Upon my word, sir ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, laying his hand
upon his breast, and dropping his eyelids.

" I forgot," cried the old man, looking at him with a keenness
which the other seemed to feel, although he did not raise his
eyes so as to see it : "I ask your pardon. I forgot you were
a stranger. For the moment you reminded me of one Peck-
sniff, a cousin of mine. As I was saying — the young girl whom
you just now saw, is an orphan child, whom, with one steady
purpose, I have bred and educated, or, if you prefer the word,
adopted. For a year or more she has been my constant com-
panion, and she is my only one. I have taken, as she knows,
a solemn oath never to leave her sixpence when I die, but while
I live, I make her an annual allowance : not extravagant in its
amount and yet not stinted. There is a compact between us
that no term of affectionate cajolery shall ever be addressed by
either to the other, but that she shall call me always by my
Christian name : I her, by hers. She is bound to me in life
by ties of interest, and losing by my death, and having no
expectation disappointed, will mourn it, perhaps : though for
that I care little. This is the only kind of friend I have or will
have. Judge from such premises what a profitable hour you
have spent in coming here, and leave me: to return no more."

With these words, the old man fell slowly back upon his
pillow. Mr. Pecksniff as slowly rose, and, with a prefatory
hem, began as follows :

" Mr. Chuzzlewit."

" There. Go ! " interposed the other. " Enough of this.
I am weary of you."

" I am sorry for that, sir," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff, " because
I have a duty to discharge, from which, depend upon it, I shall
not shrink. No, sir, I shall not shrink."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

47

It is a lamentable fact, that as Mr. Pecksniff stood erect
beside the bed, in all the dignity of Goodness, and addressed
him thus, the old man cast an angr}- glance towards the candle-
stick, as if he were possessed by a strong inclination to launch
it at his cousin's head. But he constrained himself, and point-
ing with his finger to the door, informed him that his road lay
there.

" Thank you," said Mr. Pecksniff, "I am aware of that ; I
am going. But before I go, I crave your leave to speak, and
more than that, Mr. Chuzzlewit, I must and will — yes indeed,
I repeat it, must and will — -be heard. I am not surprised, sir,
at anything you have told me to-night. It is natural, very
natural, and the greater part of it was known to me before. I
will not say," continued Mr. Pecksniff, drawing out his pocket-
handkerchief, and winking with both eyes at once, as it were,
against his will, " I will not say that you are mistaken in me.
While you are in your present mood I would not say so for the
world. I almost wish, indeed, that I had a different nature,
that I might repress even this slight confession of weakness :
which I cannot disguise from you: which I feel is humiliating:
but which you will have the goodness to excuse. We will say,
if you please," added Mr. Pecksniff, with great tenderness of
manner, " that it arises from a cold in the head, or is attribut-
able to snuff, or smelling-salts, or onions, or anything but the
real cause."

Here he paused for an instant, and concealed his face behind
his pocket handkerchief. Then, smiling faintl}-, and holding
the bed-furniture with one hand, he resumed :

" But, Mr. Chuzzlewit, while I am forgetful of myself, I owe
it to myself, and to my character — ay, sir, and I have a charac-
ter which is very dear to me, and will be the best inheritance
of my two daughters — to tell you, on behalf of another, that
your conduct is wrong, unnatural, indefensible, monstrous.
And I tell you, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, towering on tiptoe
among the curtains, as if he were literally rising above all
wordly considerations, and were fain to hold on tight, to keep
himself from darting skyward like a rocket, " I tellyou without
fear or favor, that it will not do for you to be unmindful of
your grandson, young Martin, who has the strongest natunl •
claim upon you. It will not do, sir," repeated Mr. Pecksniff,
shaking his head. " You may think it will do, but it won't.
You must provide for that young man ; you shall provide for
him ; you z£'/// provide for him. I believe," said Mr. Pecksniff,

48 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

glancing at the pen-and-ink, "that in secret you have already
done so. Bless you for doing so. Bless you for doing right,
sir. Bless you for hating me. And goodnight ! "

So saynig, Mr. Pecksniff waved his right hand with much
solemnity ; and once more inserting it in his waistcoat, de-
parted. There was emotion in his manner, but his step was
firm. Subject to human weaknesses, he was upheld by con-
science.

Martin lay for some time, with an expression on his face
of silent wonder, not unmixed with rage : at length he mut-
tered in a whisper :

" What does this mean ? Can the false-hearted boy have
chosen such a tool as yonder fellow who has just gone out .-*
Why not ! 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 ! "

He fell to trifling, as he ceased to speak, with the ashes of
the burnt paper \\\ 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 I might have died to-night !
I plainly see to what foul uses all this money will be put at
last," he cried, almost writhing in the bed : "after filling me
with cares and miseries all my life, it will perpetuate discord
and bad passions when I am dead. So it always is. What
lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day : sow-
ing 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 creature for me ! "

Universal self ! Was there nothing of its shadow in these
reflections, and in the history of Martin Chuzzlewit, on his
own showing ,-'

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

49

CHAPTER IV.

FROM WHICH IT WILL APPEAR THAT IF UNION BE STRENGTH,
AND FAMILY AFFECTION BE PLEASANT TO CONTEMPLATE,
THE CHUZZLEWITS WERE THE STRONGEST AND MOST AGREE-
ABLE FAMILY IN THE WORLD.

That worthy man Mr. Pecksniff having taken leave of his
cousin in the solemn terms recited in the last chapter, with-
drew to his own home, and remained there, three whole days :
not so much as,going out for a walk beyond the boundaries
of his own garden, lest he should be hastily summoned to the
bedside of his penitent and remorseful relative, whom, in his
ample benevolence, he had made up his mind to forgive un-
conditionally, and to love on any terms. But, such was the
obstinacy and such the bitter nature of that stern old man,
that no repentant summons came ; and the fourth day found
Mr. Pecksniff apparently much farther from his Christian ob-
ject than the first.

During the whole of this interval, he haunted 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 obdurate invalid ; insomuch that Mrs. Lupin was fairly
melted by his disinterested anxiety (for he often particularly
required her to take notice that he would do the same by any
stranger or pauper in the like condition), and shed many tears
of admiration and delight.

Meantime, old Martin Chuzzlewit remained shut up in his
own chamber, and saw no person but his young companion,
saving the hostess of the Blue Dragon, who was, at certain
times, admitted to his presence. So surely as she came into
the room, however, Martin feigned to fall asleep. It was only
when he and the young lady were alone, 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

4

5°

A/A J? TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

fervor of his affectionate zeal, to apply his ear once more to
the keyhole, and quiet his mind by assuring himself that the
hard-hearted patient was goiwg on well. It happened that
Mr. Pecksniff, coming softly upon the dark passage into which
a spiral ray of light usually darted through the same keyhole,
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 hurriedly down to ascertain by personal in-
spection whether the jealousy of the old man hacl caused this
keyhole 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 voice the monosyllable "Oh ! " which
was, as it were, sharply unscrewed and jerked out of him by
very anguish. It happened then, and lastly, that Mr. Peck-
sniff found himself immediately cohared by something which
smelt like several damp vmibrellas, a barrel of beer, a cask of
warm brandy-and-water, and a small parlor-full of stale to-
bacco smoke, mixed ; and was straightway led down stairs
into the bar from which he had lately come, where he found
himself standing opposite to, and in the grasp of, a perfectly
strange gentleman of still stranger appearance, who, with his
disengaged hand, rubbed his own head very hard, and looked
at him, Pecksniff, with an evil countenance.

I'he gentleman was of that order of appearance, which is
currently termed shabby-genteel, though in respect of his dress
he can hardlv be said to have been in anv 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 gray —
violent in its colors once, but sobered now by age and dingi-
ness — and were so stretched and strained in a tough conflict
between his braces and his straps, that they appeared every
moment in dansrer of flvinsr asunder at the knees. His coat,
in color blue and of a military cut, v/as buttoned andfrogged,
up to his chin. His cravat was, in hue and pattern, like one
of ihose 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 mustache — a shaggy mustache
too : nothing in the meek and merciful way, but quite in the
fierce and scornful style : the regular Satanic sort of thing —
and he wore, besides, a vast quantity of unbrushed hair. He

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 i

was ver)' dirty and very jaunty ; very bold and very mean •
very swaggering and ver^' slinking ; 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 re-
pudiated the Dragon in that animal's last moments, and said :

" Where is Mrs. Lupin, I wonder ! can the good woman
possibly be aware that there is a person here who — "

" Stay ! " said the gentleman. " Wait a bit. She does
know. What then ? "

" What then, sir ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " What then ?
Do vou 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'll
be sworn ; for he was there before you."

" What do you mean } " said Mr. Pecksniff, with indignant
surprise. "What do you tell 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 li\ es 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 your pardon," said
the man touching his hat, and subsequently diving behind his
cravat for a shirt-collar, which however he did not succeed in
bringing to the surface. "You behold in me, sir, one who
has also an interest in that gentleman up stairs. Wait a bit."

As he said this, he touched the tip of his high nose, by
way of intimation that he would let Mr. Pecksniff into a se-
cret presently ; and pulling off his hat, began 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, be-
grimed with dirt and redolent of tobacco.

" Read that," he cried, giving it to Mr. Pecksniff.

"This is addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esquire," said that
gentleman.

" You know Chevy Slyme, Esquire, I believe } " returned
the stranger.

52 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 in-
terest 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. Peck-
sniff, shaking his head and smiling composedly. " It is very
distressing to me, to be compelled 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 fire, with his back towards it. Then gathering the skirts
of his coat under his left arm, and smoothing his mustache
with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed :

" I understand your mistake, and I am not offended.
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 honored to be
mistaken for, that man is my friend Slyme. For he is, with-
out an exception, the highest-minded, the most independent-
spirited, most original, spiritual, classical, talented, the most
tlioroughly Shakspearian, if not Miltonic, and at the same time
the most disgustingly-unappreciated dog \ 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, holding out the
cover of the letter.

" No doubt you did," returned the gentleman. " But, Mr.
Pecksniff, the whole thing resolves itself into an instance of
the peculiarities of genius. Every man of true genius has his
peculiarity. Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme is, that he
is always waiting round the corner. He is perpetually round
the corner, sir. He is round the corner at this instant. Now,"
said the gentleman, shaking his forefinger before his nose,
and planting his legs wider apart as he looked attentively in
Mr. Pecksniff's face, " that is a remarkably curious and inter-
esting trait in Mr. Slyme's character; and whenever Slyme's

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 53

life comes to lie written, that trait must be thoroughly worked
out by his biographer, or society will not be satisfied. Ob-
serve me, society will not be satisfied ! "

Mr. Pecksniff coughed.

"Slyme's biographer, sir, whoever he may be," 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 my 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 ha\'e
done honor 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 1 may
be permitted to inquire, who am compelled by a regard for
my own character 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 protest 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 Mon-
tague Tigg will perhaps be familiar to you, in connection 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 consequently proud —
proud as Lucifer. Excuse me one moment. I desire my
friend Slyme to be present at the remainder of this confer-
ence."

With this announcement he hurried away to the outer
door of the Blue Dragon, and almost immediately returned
with a companion shorter than himself, who was wrapped in
an old blue camlet 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 whiskers and frowzy hair
beins: more than usuallv dishevelled from the same cause, he
certainly looked rather unwholesome and uncomfortable than
Shakspearian or Miltonic.

" Now," said Mr. Tigg, clapping one hand on the shoul-
der of his prepossessing friend, and calling Mr. Pecksniff's

54

MARTIN CHVZZLEWIT.

attention to him with the other, " you two are related ; and
relations never did agree, and never will : which is a wise dis-
pensation and an inevitable thing, or there would be none but
family parties, and everj'body in the world would bore every-
body else to death. If you were on good terms, I should con-
sider you a most confoundedly unnatural pair ; but standing
towards each other as you do, I look upon you as a couple of
devilish deep-thoughted fellows, who may be reasoned with to
any extent."

Here Mr. Che\'y Slyme, whose great abilities seemed one
and all to point towards the sneaking quarter of the moral
compass, nudged his friend stealthily with his elbow, and
whispered in his ear.

" Chiv," said Mr. Tigg aloud, in the high tone of one who
was not to be tampered with. " I shall come to that presently.
I act upon my own responsibility, or not at all. To the ex-
tent of such a trifling loan as a crov/npiece to a man of your
talents, I look upon Mr. Pecksniff as certain : " and seeing at
this juncture that the expression of Mr. Pecksniff's face by no
means betokened that he shared this certainty, Mr. Tigg
laid his finger on his nose again for that gentleman's pri-
vate and especial behoof : calling upon him thereby to take
notice, that the requisition of small loans was another instance
of the peculiarities of genius as developed in his friend Slyme ;
that he, Tigg, winked at the same, because of the strong met-
aphysical interest which these weaknesses possessed ; and that
in reference to his own personal advocacy of such small ad-
vances, he merely consulted the humor of his friend, without
the least regard to his own advantage or necessities.

" Oh, Chiv, Chiv ! " added Mr. Tigg, sur\ eying his adopted
brother with an air of profound contemplation after dismissing
this piece of pantomime. " You are, upon my life, a strange
instance of the little frailties that beset a might}' mind. 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 ! Moralize as we will, the world goes on. As
Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with his club in
every possible direction, but he can't prevent the cats from
making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or
the dogs from being shot in the hot weather it they run about

MARTI A' CIIUZZLEWIT. 55

the streets unmuzzled. Life's a riddle : a most infernally hard
riddle 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 which consolatory deduction from the gloomy prem-
ises recited, Mr. Tigg roused himself by a great effort, and
proceeded in his former strain.

" Now I'll tell you what it is. I'm a most confoundedly
soft-hearted kind of fellow in my way, 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 Chw. 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 liim, neither can we. I give
you my brighest word of honor, sir, that I've been looking
through that keyhole, with short intervals of rest, ever since
nine o'clock this morning, in expectation of receiving an an-
swer to one of the most moderate and gentlemanly applications
for a little temporar)' assistance — only fifteen pounds, and my
security — that the mind of man can conceive. In the mean-
time, sir, he is perpetually closeted with, and pouring his whole
confidence into the bosom of, a stranger. Now, I say deci-
sively, with regard to this state of circumstances, that it won't
do ; that it won't act ; that it can't be ; and that it must not
be suffered to continue."

" Every man," said Mr. Pecksniff, " has a right, an un-
doubted right, (which I, for one, would not call in question
for any earthly consideration : oh no !) to regulate his own pro-
ceedings by his own likings and dislikings, supposing they are
not immoral and not irreligious. I may feel in my own breast,
that Mr. Chuzzlewit does not regard — me, 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. Chuz-
zlewit is wholly without a justification 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 confidences of whic'-i }-ou
speak ; the existence of which I must admit ; and which I

56 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

cannot but deplore — 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 difficult
question."

" Undoubtedly it is a difficult question," Mr. Pecksniff an-
swered. As he spoke he drew himself aloft, and seemed to
grow more mindful, suddenly, of the moral gulf between him-
self and the creature he addressed. " Undoubtedly it is a
very difficult question. And I am far from feeling sure that
it is a question any one is authorized to discuss. Good even-
hig 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 brother's child, didn't he ? And Mrs. Spottletoe is
Chuzzlewit's own niece, isn't she ? She was his favorite once.
You may well ask what Spottletoes."

" Now, upon my sacred word ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, look-
ing upwards. " This is dreadful. The rapacity of these peo-
ple is absolutely frightful ! "

" It's not only the Spottletoes either, Tigg," said Slyme,
looking at that gentleman and speaking at Mr. Pecksniff.
" Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son have got wind of it, and
have come down this afternoon. I saw 'em not five minutes
ago, when I was waiting round the corner."

" Oh, Mammon, Mammon ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, smiting
his forehead.

" So there," said Slyme, regardless of the interruption,
" 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 disappearing again ; and if
possible, to counteract the influence which is exercised over
him now, by this designing favorite. Ever}'body who is inter-
ested feels it, sir. The whole family is pouring down to this
place. The time has come when individual jealousies and

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

57

interests must be forgotten for a time, sir, and union must be
made against the common enemy. When the common enemy
is routed, you will all set up for yourselves again ; every lady
and gentlemen who has a part in the game, will go in on their
own account and bowl away, to the best of their ability, at the
testator's wicket ; and nobody will be in a worse position than
before. Think of it. Don't commit yourself now. You'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 apart 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 the little ec-
centricities of our friend Slyme. You saw him whisper me .'' "

Mr Pecksniff had seen him.

" You heard my answer, I think } "

Mr. Pecksniff had heard it.

" Five shillings, eh ? " said Mr. Tigg, thoughtfully. " Ah !
what an extraordinary fellow ? Very moderate too ! "

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 neard that.

" No ! You surprise me ! " cried Tigg. " That's the cream
of the thing, sir. I ne\-er 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. No"t at all."

"Just so," returned Mr. Tigg. "If you had been, I'd
have got it for you." With that he began to whistle ; but a
dozen seconds had not elapsed when he stopped short, and,
looking earnestly at Mr. Pecksniff, said :

" Perhaps you'd rather not lend Slyme five shillings ? "

" I would much rather not," Mr. Pecksniff rejoined.

" 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 verj^ possible you may be right. Would you
entertain the same sort of objection to lending mc five shil-
lings, now ? "

"Yes, I couldn't do it, indeed," said Mr. Pecksniff.

58

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Not even lialf-a-crown, perhaps ? " urged Mr. Tigg,

" Not even half-a-cro\vn."

" Why then we come," said Mr. Tigg, " to the ridiculously
small amount of eighteenpence. Ha ! ha ! "

" And that," said Mr. Pecksniff, "would be equally objec-
tionable."

On receipt of this assurance, Mr. Tigg shook him heartily
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 desired the honor of his better acquaintance.
He moreover observed that there were many little character-
istics about his friend Slyme, of which he could by no means,
as a man of strict honor, approve ; but that he was prepared
to forgive him all these slight drawbacks, and much more, in
consideration of the great pleasure he himself had that day en-
joyed in his social intercourse with Mr. Pecksniff, which had
given him a far higher and more enduring delight than the
successful negotiation of any small loan on the part of his
friend could possibly have imparted. With which remarks he
would beg leave, he said, to wish Mr. Pecksniff a very good
evening. And so he took himself off : as little abashed by
his recent failure as any gentleman would desire to be.

The meditations of Mr. Pecksniff that evening at the bar
of the Dragon, and that night in his own house, were very
serious and grave indeed ; the more especially as the intelli-
gence he had received from Messrs. Tigg and Slyme touch-
ing the arrival of other members of the family, were fully con-
firmed on more particular inquir)-. For the Spottletoes had
actually gone straight to the Dragon, where they were at that
moment housed and mounting guard, and where their appear-
ance had occasioned such a vast sensation, that Mrs. Lupin,
scenting their errand before they had been under her roof
half-an-hour, carried the news herself with all possible secrecy
straight to Mr. Pecksniff's house : indeed it was her great
caution in doing so which occasioned her to miss that gentle-
man, who entered at the front door of the Dragon, just as she
emerged from the back one. Moreover, Mr. Anthony Chuz-
/dewit and his son Jonas were economically quartered at the
Half Moon and Seven Stars, which was an obscure ale-house ;
and by the very next coach there came posting to the scene
of action, so many other affectionate members of the family
(who quarrelled with each other, inside and out, all the way
down, to the utter distraction of the coaciniian;, that in less

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 59

than four-and-twenty hours the scanty tavern 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 that nearly the whole
family sat down before the Blue Dragon, and formally in-
vested it ; and Martin Chuzzlewit was in a state of siege. But
he resisted bravely ; refusing to receive all letters, messages, and
parcels ; obstinately declining to treat with anybody ; and hold-
ing out no hope or promise of capitulation. Meantime the
family forces were perpetually encountering each other in di-
vers parts of the neighborhood : and, as no one branch of the
Chuzzlewit tree had ever been known to agree with another
within the memory of man, there was such a skirmishing, and
flouting, and snapping off of heads, in the metaphorical sense
of that expressio'n ; such a bandying of words and calling of
names ; such an upturning of noses and wrinkling of brows ;
such a formal interment of good feelings and violent resurrec-
tion of ancient grievances ; as had never been known in those
quiet parts since the earliest record of their civilized existence.

At length, in utter despair and hopelessness, some few of
the belligerents began to speak to each other in only moder-
ate terms of mutual aggravation ; and nearly all addressed
themselves with a show of tolerable decency to Mr. Peck-
sniff, in recognition of his high character and influential posi-
tion. Thus, by little and little they made coaimon cause of
Martin Chuzzlewit's obduracy, until it was agreed (if such a
word can be used in connection with the Chuzzlewits) that
there should be a general council and conference held at Mr.
Pecksniff's house upon a certain day at noon : which all mem-
bers of the family who had brought themselves within reach of
the summons, were forthwith bidden and imited, solemnly, to
attend.

If ever Mr. Pecksniff wore an 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 mis-
sion now. If ever man combined within himself all the mild
qualities of the lamb with a considerable touch of the dove,
and not a dash of the crocodile, or the least possible sugges-
tion of the ver}' 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 bcN-ond the possi-

6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

bility of reparation, l^ut I forgive them, for it is my duty so to
do ! " And, Oh, the ga}' simplicity of Mercy : so charming,
■innocent, and infant-Hl<e, tiiat if she had gone out walking by
herself, and it had been a little 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 Pecksniffs
were all goodness.

But when the company arrived ! That was the time. When
Mr. Pecksniff, rising from his seat at the table's head, with a
daughter on either hand, received his guests in the best par-
lor and motioned them to chairs, with eyes so overflowing
and countenance so clamp with gracious perspiration, 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 in any-
body, and wouldn't believe anything, and would no more allow
themselves to be softened 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 falling off his head, and to have fastened it irrevo-
cably 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 to be suspected of
testamentary designs upon him, do nothing but cr}' — except
moan. Then there were Anthony Chuzzlewit, and his son
Jonas : the face of the old man so sharpened by the wariness
and cunning of his life, that it seemed to cut him a passage
through the crowded room, as he edged away behind the re-
motest chairs ; while the son had so well profited by the pre-
cept and example of the father, that he looked a year or two
the elder of the twain, as they stood winking their red eyes,
side by side, and whispering to each other, softly. Then there
was the widow of a deceased brother of Mr. Martin Chuzzle-
wit, who being almost supernaturally disagreeable, and having

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 6 1

a dreary face and a bony figure and a masculine voice, was,
in right of these quaHties, what is commonly called a strong-
minded woman ; and who, if she could, would have establish-
ed her claim to the title, and have shown herself, mentally
speaking, a perfect Sampson, by shutting ip her brother-in-
law in a private mad-house, until he proved his complete san-
ity by loving her very much. Beside her sat her spinster
daughters, three in number, and of gentlemanly deportment,
who had so mortified themselves with tight stays, that their
tempers were reduced to something less than their waists, and
sharp lacing was expressed in their very noses. Then there
was a young gentleman, grand-nephew of Mr. Martin Chuz-
zlewit, ver}' dark and very hairy, and apparently born for no
particular purpose but to save looking-glasses the trouble of
reflecting more*^ than just the first idea and sketchy notion of
a face, which had never been carried out. Then there was a
solitary female cousin who was remarkable for nothing but
being very deaf, and living by herself, and always having the
tooth-ache. Then there was George Chuzzlewit, a gay bach-
elor cousin, who claimed to be young but had been younger,
and was inclined to corpulency, and rather over-fed himself :
to that extent, indeed, that his eves were strained in their
sockets, as if with constant surprise ; and he had such an ob-
vious disposition to pimples, that the bright spots on his cra-
vat, the rich pattern on his waistcoat, and even his glittering
trinkets, seemed to have broken out upon him, and not to
have come into existence comfortably. Last of all there were
present Mr. Chevy Slyme and his friend Tigg. And it is
worthy of remark, that although each person present disliked
the other, mainly because he or she did belong to the family,
they one and all concurred in hating Mr. Tigg because he
didn't.

Such was the pleasant little family circle now assembled in
Mr, Pecksniff's best parlor, agreeably prepared to fall foul of
Mr. Pecksniff or anybody else who might venture to say any-
thing whatever upon any subject.

"This," said Mr. Pecksniff rising, and looking round upon
them, with folded hands, " does me good. It does my daugh-
ters good. We thank you for assembling here. We are
grateful to you with our whole hearts. It is a blessed distinc-
tion that you have conferred upon us, and believe me : " it is
impossible to conceive how he smiled here : " we shall not
easily forget it."

62 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I am sorry to interrupt you, Pecksniff," remarked Mr.
Spottletoe, with his whiskers in a very portentous state ; " but
you are assuming too mucli to yourself, sir. Who do you
imagine has it in contemplation to confer a distinction upon
you^ sir ? "

A general murmur echoed this inquiry, and applauded it.

" If you are about to pursue the course with which you
have begun, sir," pursued Mr. Spottletoe in a great heat, and
giving a violent rap on the table with his knuckles, " the
sooner you desist, and this assembly separates, the better. I
am no stranger, sir, to your preposterous desire to be regarded
as the head of this family, but I can tell you, sir — "

Oh yes indeed! He \.^\\. He! What.? He was the
head, was he .'' From the strong-minded woman downwards
everybody fell, that instant, upon Mr. Spottletoe, w^ho after
vainly attempting to be heard in silence was fain to sit down
again, folding his arms and shaking his head, most wrathfully,
and giving Mrs. Spottletoe to understand in dumb show, that
that scoundrel Pecksniff might go on for the present, but he
would cut in presently, and annihilate him.

" I am not sorry," said'Mr. Pecksniff in resumption of his
address, " I am really not sorry that this little incident has
happened. It is good to feel that we are met here without
disguise. It is good to know that we have no reserve before
each other, but are appearing freely in our own characters."

Here, the eldest daughter of the strong-minded woman
rose a little way from her seat, and trembling violently from
head to foot, more as it seemed with passion than timidity,
expressed a general hope that some people would appear in
their own characters, if it were only for such a proceeding
having the attraction of novelty to recommend it : and that
when they (meaning the some people before mentioned) talked
about their relations, they would be careful to observe who
was present in company at the time ; otherwise it might come
round to those relations' ears, in a way they little expected ;
and as to red noses (she observed) she had yet to learn that
a red nose was any disgrace, inasmuch as people neither made
nor colored their own noses, but had that feature provided
for them without being first consulted ; though even upon
that branch of the subject she had great doubts whether
certain noses were redder than other noses, or indeed half as
red as some. This remark being received with a shrill titter
by the two sisters of the speaker, Miss Charity Pecksniff

MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 63

begged with much politeness to be informed whether any of
those very low observations were levelled at her ; and receiv-
ing no more explanatory answer than was conveyed in the
adage " Those the cap fits, let them wear it," immediately
commenced a somewhat acrimonious and personal retort,
wherein she was much comforted and abetted by her sister
Mercy, who laughed at the same with great heartiness : indeed
far more naturally than life. And it being quite impossible
that any difference of opinion can take place among women
without every woman who is within hearing taking active part
in it, the strong-minded lady and her two daughters, and Mrs.
Spottletoe, and the deaf cousin (who was not at all disquali-
fied from joining in the dispute by reason of being perfectly
unacquainted with its merits), one and all plunged into the
quarrel directlyr

The two Miss Pecksniffs being a pretty good match for the
three Miss Chuzzlewits, and all five young ladies having, in
the figurative language of the day, a great amount of steam to
dispose of, the altercation would no doubt have been a long
one but for the high valor and prowess of the strong-minded
woman, who, in right of her reputation for powers of sarcasm,
did so belabor and pummel Mrs. Spottletoe with taunting
words that that poor lady, before the engagement was two
minutes old, had no refuire but in tears, 'llicse she shed so
plentifully, and so much to the agitation and grief of Mr.
Spottletoe, that that gentleman, after holding his clenched fist
close to Mr. Pecksniff's eyes, as if it were some natural
curiosity from the near inspection whereof he was likely
to derive high gratification and improvement, and after offer-
ing (for no particular reason that anybody could discover) to
kick Mr. George Chuzzlewit for, and in consideration of, the
trifling sum of sixpence, took his wife under his arm, and indig-
nantly withdrew. This diversion, by distracting the attention
of the combatants, put an end to the strife, which, after break-
ing out afresh some twice or thrice in certain inconsiderable
spirits and dashes, died away in silence.

It was then that Mr. Pecksniff once more rose from his
chair. It was then that the two Miss Pecksniffs composed
themselves to look as if there were no such beings — not to
say present, but in the whole compass of the world, as the
three Miss Chuzzlewits : while the three Miss Chuzzlewits
became equally unconscious of the existence of the two Miss
Pecksniffs.

64 ^A R TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

" It is to be lamented," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a forgiv-
ing recollection of Mr. Spottletoe's fist, " that our friend
should have withdrawn himself so very hastily, though we have
cause for mutual congratulation even in that, since we are
assured that he is not distrustful of us in regard to anything
we may say or do, while he is absent. Now, that is very
soothing, is it not ? "

" Pecksniff," said Anthony, who had been watching the
whole party with peculiar keenness from the first : " don't you
be a hypocrite."

"A what, my good sir 1 " demanded Mr. Pecksniff.

"A hypocrite."

"Charity, my dear," said Mr. Pecksniff, "when I take my
chamber candlestick to-night, remind me to be more than
usually particular in praying for Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit ;
who has done me an injustice."

This was said in a ver}^ bland voice, and aside, as being
addressed to his daughter's private ear. With a cheerfulness
of conscience, prompting almost a sprightly demeanor, he then
resumed :

" All our thoughts centring in our very dear, but unkind
relative, and he being as it were beyond our reach, we are met
to-day, really as if we were a funeral party, except — a blessed
exception — that there is no Body in the house."

The strong-minded lady was not at all sure that this was a
blessed exception. Quite the contrary.

"Well, my dear madam ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Be that
as it may, here we are \ and being here, we are to consider
whether it is possible by any justifiable means — "

" Why, you know as well as I," said the strong-minded
lady, " that any means are justifiable in such a case, don't
you ? "

" Very good, my dear madam, very good ; whether it is
possible by any means, we will say by any means, to open the
eyes of our valued relative to his present infatuation. Whether
it is possible to make him acquainted by any means with
the real character and purpose of that young female whose
strange, whose very strange position, in reference to himself,"
here Mr. Pecksniff sunk his voice to an impressive whisper,
"really casts a shadow of disgrace and shame upon this
family ; and who, we know," here he raised his ^oice again,
" else why is she his companion ? harbors the very basest
designs upon his weakness and his property."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 65

In their strong feeling on this point, they, who agreed in
nothing else, all concurred as one mind. Good Heaven, that
she should harbor designs upon his property ! The strong-
minded lady was for poison, her three daughters were for
Bridewell and bread-and-water, the cousin with the tooth-ache
advocated Botany Bay, the two Miss Pecksniffs suggested
flogging. Nobody but Mr. Tigg, who, notwithstanding his
extreme shabbiness, 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 conciliatory and argumentative :
" I will not, upon the one hand, go so far as to say that she
deserves all the inflictions which have been so very forcibly
and hilariously suggested ; " one of his ornamental sentences ;
" nor will I, upon the other, on any account compromise my
common understanding 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 I say our revered — ? "

" No ! " interposed the strong-minded woman in a loud
voice.

" Then I will not," said Mr. Pecksniff. "You are quite
right, my dear madam, and I appreciate and thank you for
your discriminating objection — our respected relative, to dis-
pose 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. Pecksniff, smiling
upon his assembled kindred, " that I am at a loss for a word.
The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to sa}')
who used to sing in the water, 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 occasion, propounded
"Oysters."

" No," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his own peculiar urbanity,

5

66 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters ; a very ex-
cellent idea ; thank you, my dear sir, very much. Wait ! Sirens.
Dear me ! sirens, of course. I think, I say, that means mi2:ht
be devised of disposing our respected relative to listen to the
promptings of nature, and not to the siren-like delusions of
art. Now we must not lose sight of the fact that our esteemed
friend has a grandson, to whom he was, until lately, very much
attached, and whom I could have wished to see here to-day,
for I have a real and deep regard for him. A fine young
man : a veiy fine 3'oung man ! I would submit to you, whether
M'e might not remove Mr. Chuzzlewit's distrust of us, and vin-
dicate our own disinterestedness by — "

" If Mr. George Chuzzlewit has anything to say to »«r,"
interposed the strong-minded woman, sternly, " I beg him to
speak out like a man ; and not to look at me and my daugh-
ters as if he could eat us."

" As to looking, I have heard it said, Mrs. Ned," returned
Mr. George, angrily, "that 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, I beg to say,
whatever bitterness your jealousies and disappointed expecta-
tions may suggest to you, that I am not a cannibal, ma'am."

" I don't know that ! " 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 out-lived 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 syllable ; " 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 them-
selves into this family by getting on the blind side of some of
its members before marriage, and manslaughtering them
afterwards by crowing over them to that strong ]iilch that they
were glad to die, would refrain from acting the part of vul-
tures in regard to other members of this family who are living.
I think it would be full as well, if not better, if those indi-
viduals would keep at home, contenting themselves with what
they have got (luckily for them) already ; instead of hovering

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVJT. 67

about, and thrusting their fingers into, a family pie, which
tliey flavor much more than enough, 1 can tell them, when
they are fifty miles away."

"J might have been prepared for this ! " cried the strong-
minded woman, looking about her with a disdainful smile as
she moved towards the door, followed by her three daugh-
ters : " indeed I was fully prepared for it, from the first.
What else could I expect in such an atmosphere as this ! "

" Don't direct your half-pay-ofiicer"s gaze at me, ma'am, if
you please," interposed Miss Charity; "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 country, you very
miserable minx,",5aid 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 Kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland when I so degraded myself. Now,
my dears, if you're quite ready, and have sufficiently improved
yourselves by taking to heart the genteel example of these two
young ladies, I think we'll go. Mr. Pecksniff, we are very
much obliged to you, really. We came to be entertained, and
you have far surpassed our utmost expectations, in the amuse-
ment you have provided for us. Thank you. Good-bye ! "

With such departing words, did this strong-minded female
paralyze the Pecksniffian energies ; and so she swept out of
the room, and out of the house, attended by her daughters,
who, as with one accord, elevated their three noses in the air,
and joined in a contemptuous titter. As they passed the par-
lor window on the outside, they were seen to counterfeit a
perfect transport of delight 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, another figure passed this window, coming, at
a great rate, in the opposite direction and immediately after-
wards, Mr. Spottletoe burst into the chamber. Compared with
his present state of heat, he had gone out a man of snow or
ice. His head distilled such oil upon his whiskers, that they
were rich and clogged with unctuous drops ; his face was
violently infiamed, his limbs trembled ; and he gasped and
strove for breatli.

" My good sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff.

68 ^I-'i A' T/JV C MUZZLE WIT.

" Oh yes ! " returned the other : " Oh yes, certainly ! 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 him ! He'll tell you ! "

"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. " Unintelligible !
Do you mean to say, sir, that you don't know what has hap-
pened ! That you haven't decoyed us here, and laid a plot
and a plan against us ! Will you venture to say that you
didn't know Mr. Chuzzlewit was going, sir, and that you don't
know he's gone, sir } "

" Gone ! " was the general cry.

"Gone," echoed Mr. Spottletoe. " Gone while we were
sitting here. Gone. Nobody knows where he's gone. Oh
of course not ! Nobody knew he was going. Oh of course
not ! The landlady thought up to the very last moment that
they were merely going for a ride ; she had no other suspicion.
Oh of course not ! 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 irritated 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 tliis
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 denunciations that were ever heaped on one
unlucky head, none can ever have exceeded in energy and
heartiness those with which he was complimented 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 the complicated
aggravation of seeing all the proceedings and hearing nothing
but the catastrophe, actually scraped her shoes upon the
scraper, and afterwards distributed impressions 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 relations and friends had

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 69

hated him to the very utmost extent before ; and that he, for
his part, had not distributed among them 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.
Pecksniff's new pupil into the bosom of mr. peck-
sniff's FAMILY. WITH ALL THE FESTIVITIES HELD ON
THAT OCCASION, AND THE GREAT ENJOYMENT OF MR.
PINCH.

The best of architects and land surveyors kept a horse, in
whom the enemies already mentioned more than once in these
pages, pretended to detect a fanciful resemblance to his master.
Not in his outward person, for he was a raw-boned, haggard
horse, always on a much shorter allowance of corn than Mr.
Pecksniff ; but in his moral character, wherein, said they, he
was full of promise, but of no performance. He was always,
in a manner, going to go, and never going. When at his
slowest rate of travelling, he would sometimes lift up his legs
so high, and display such mighty action, that it was difficult
to believe he was doing less than fourteen miles an hour ; and
he was for ever so perfectly satisfied with his own speed, and
so little disconcerted by opportunities of comparing himself
with the fastest trotters, that the illusion was the more difficult
of resistance. He was a kind of animal who infused into the
breasts of strangers a lively sense of hope, and possessed all
those who knew him better with a grim despair. In what
respect, having these points of character, he might be fairly
likened to his master, that good man's slanderers only can
explain. But it is a melancholy truth, and a deplorable in-
stance of the uncharitableness of the world, that they made
the comparison.

In this horse, and the hooded vehicle, whatever its proper

7°

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

name miglit be, to wliich he was usually harnessed — it was
more like a gig with a tumor, than anything else — all Mr.
Pinch's thoughts and wishes centred, one bright frosty morn-
ing ; for with this gallant equipage he was about to drive to
Salisbury alone, there to meet with the new pupil, and thence
to bring him home in triumph.

Blessings on thy simple heart, Tom Pinch, how proudly
dost thou button up that scanty coat, called by a sad misno-
mer, for these many years, a "great " one ; and how thorough-
ly as with thy cheerful voice thou pleasantly abjurest Sam the
hostler " not to let him go yet," dost thou believe that quad-
ruped desires to go, and would go if he might ! Who could
repress a smile — of love for thee, Tom Pinch, and not in jest
at thy expense, for thou art poor enough already. Heaven
knows — to think that such a holiday as lies before thee, should
awaken that quick flow and hurr}' of the spirits, in which thou
settest down again, almost untasted, on the kitchen window-
sill, that great white mug (put by, by thy own hands, last
night, that breakfast might not hold thee late), and layest
yonder crust upon the seat beside thee, to be eaten on the
road, when thou art calmer in thy high rejoicing ! Who, as
thou drivest off, a happy man, and noddest with .a grateful
lovingness to Pecksniff in his nightcap at his chamber-window,
would not cry : " Heaven speed thee, Tom, and send that
thou wert going off for e\'er to some quiet home where thou
mightst live at peace, and sorrow should not touch thee ! "

What better time for driving, riding, walking, mo\'ing
through the air by any means, than a fresh, frosty morning,
when hope mns cheerily through the veins with the brisk
blood, and tingles in the frame from head to foot ! This was
the glad commencement of a bracing day in early winter, such
as may put the languid summer season (speaking of it when
it can't be had) to the blush, and shame the spring for being
sometimes cold by halves. The sheep-bells rang as clearly
in the vigorous air, as if they felt its wholesome influence like
living creatures ; the trees, in lieu of leaves or blossoms, shed
upon the ground a frosty rime that sparkled as it fell, and
might have been the dust of diamonds. So it was, to Tom.
From cottage chimneys, smoke went streaming up high, high,
as if the earth had lost its grossness, being so fair, and must
not be oppressed by heavy vapor. The crust of ice on the
else rippling brook, was so transparent and so thin in texture,
that the lively water might, of its own free will, have stopped

MAIi TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 7 1

— in Tom's glad mind it liad — to look upon the lovely morn-
ing. And lest the sun should break this charm too eagerly,
there moved between him and the ground, a mist like that
which waits upon the moon on suminer nights — the very same
to Tom — and wooed him to dissolve it gently.

Tom, Pinch went on ; not fast, but with a sense of rapid
motion, which did just as well ; and as he went, all kinds of
things occurred to keep him happy. Thus when he came
within sight of the turnpike, and was — Oh a long way ofif ! —
he saw the tollman's wife, who had that moment checked a
wagon, run back into the little house again like mad, to say
(she knew) that Mr. Pinch was coming up. And she was
right, for when he drew within hail of the gate, forth rushed
the tollman's children, shrieking in tiny chorus, " Mr. Pinch ! "
to Tom's intense' delight. The very tollman, though an ugly
chap in general, and one whom folks were rather shy of hand-
ling, came out himself to take the toll, and give him rough
good morning : and that with all this, and a glimpse of the
family breakfast on a little round table before the fire, the
crust Tom Pinch had brought away with him acquired as rich
a flavor as thou2:h it had been cut from a faiiT loaf.

But there was more than this. It was not only the married
people and the children who gave Tom Pinch a welcome as
he passed. No, no. Sparkling eyes and snowy breasts came
hurriedly to many an upper casement as he clattered by, and
gave him back his greeting : not stinted either, but sevenfold,
good measure. They were all merry. They all laughed.
And some of the wickedest among them even kissed their
hands as Tom looked back. For who minded poor Mr.
Pinch ? There was no harm in him.

And now the morning grew so fair, and all things were so
wide awake and gay, that the sun seeming to say — Tom had
no doubt he said — " I can't stand it any longer : I must
have a look," streamed out in radiant majesty. The mist, too
shy and gentle for such lusty company, fled off, quite scared,
before it • and as it swept away, the hills and mounds and
distant pasture lands, teeming with placid sheep and noisy
crows, came out as bright as though they were unrolled bran
new for the occasion. In comj^liment to which discover}', the
brook stood still no longer, but ran briskly off to bear the
tidings to the water-mill, three miles away.

Mr. Pinch was jogging along, full of pleasant thoughts
and cheerful influences, when he saw, upon the path before

72

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

him, going in the same direction with himself, a traveller on
foot, who walked with a light quick step, and sang as he went :
for certain in a very loud voice, but not unmusically. He
was a young fellow, of some five or six-and-twenty perhaps,
and was drest in such a free and tiy-away fashion, that the
long ends of his loose red neckcloth were streaming out be-
hind liim quite as often as before ; and the bunch of bright
winter berries in the buttonhole of his velveteen coat, was as
visible to Mr. Pinch's rearward observation, as if he had worn
that garment wrong side foremost. He continued to sing
with so much energy, that he did not hear the sound of wheels
until it was close behind him ; when he turned a whimsical
face and a veiy merry pair of blue eyes on Mr. Pinch, and
checked himself directly.

" Why, Mark 1 " said Tom Pinch, stopping. " Who'd have
thought of seeing you here ? Well ! this is surprising ! "

Mark touched his hat, and said, with a very sudden
decrease of vivacity, that he was going to Salisbury.

" And how spruce you are, too ! " said Mr. Pinch, survey-
ing him with great pleasure. " Really I didn't think you
were half such a tight-made fellow, Mark ! "

" Thankee, Mr. Pinch. Pretty well for that, I believe.
It's not my fault, you know. With regard to being spruce, sir,
that's where it is, you see.'' And here he looked particularly
gloomy.

" Where what is ? " Mr. Pinch demanded.

" Where the aggravation of it is. Any man may be in good
spirits and good temper when he's well drest. There ain't much
credit in that. If I was veiy ragged and very jolly, then I
should begin to feel I had gained a point, Mr. Pinch."

" So you were singing just now, to bear up, as it were,
against being well dressed, eh, Mark .'' " said Pinch.

"Your conversation's always equal to print, sir," rejoined
Mark, with a broad grin. " That was it."

" Well ! " cried Pinch, " you are the strangest young man,
Mark, I ever knew in my life. I always thought so ; but now
I am quite certain of it. I am going to Salisbury, too. Will
you get in } I shall be very glad of your company.

The young fellow made his acknowledgments and accepted
the offer ; stepping into the carriage directly, and seating him-
self on the very edge of the seat with his body half out of it,
to express his being there on sufTerance, and by the politeness
of Mr. Pinch. As they went along, the conversation pro-
ceeded after this manner.

MARTI?/ CIIUZZLEIVIT. 73

" I more than half believed, just now, seeing you so very
smart," said Pinch, " that you must be going to be married,
Mark."

" Well, sir, I've thought of that, too," he replied. " There
might be some credit in being jolly with a wife, 'specially if
the children had the measles and that, and was very fractious
indeed. But I'm a'most afraid to try it. I don't see my way
clear."

"You're not very fond of anybody, perhaps .'' " said
Pinch.

"Not particular, sir, I think."

" But the way would be, you know, Mark, according to
your views of things," said Mr. Pinch, "to marry somebody
you didn't like, and who was ver}- disag'-ecable."

" So it would, sir ; but that might be carrying out a princi-
ple a little too far, mightn't it ? "

" Perhaps it might," said Mr. Pinch. At which they both
laughed gayly.

"Lord bless you, sir," said Mark, "you don't half know
me, though. I don't believe there ever was a man as could
come out so strong under circumstances that would make
other men miserable, as I could, if I could only get a chance.
But I can't get a chance. It's my opinion, that nobody never
will know half of what's in me, unless something very unex-
pected turns up. And I don't see any prospect of that. I'm
a going to leave the Dragon, sir."

" Going to leave the Dragon ! " cried Mr. Pinch, looking
at him with great astonishment. " Why, Mark, you take my
breath away ! "

"Yes, sir," he rejoined, looking straight l>efore him and a
long way off, as men do sometinles when they cogilale pro-
foundly. " What's the use of my stopping at the Dragon ?
It an't at all the sort of place for inc. When I left London
(I'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 in 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 eveiy winter's evening. Any man could be
jolly at the Dragon. There's no credit in tliaty

" But if common report l)e true for once, Mark, as 1 think
it is, being able to conlirm it by what I know myself," said

74

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Pinch, " you are the cause of half this merriment, and set
it going."

"There may be something in that, too, sir," answered
Mark. " But that's no consolation."

" Well ! " said Mr. Pinch, after a short silence, his usually
subdued tone being even more subdued than ever. " I can
hardly think enough of what you tell me. Why, what will
become of Mrs. Lupin, Mark t "

Mark looked more fixedly before him, and further off still,
as he answered that he didn't suppose 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. Wh)-,
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 answer. Well, sir, f/iai 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 looking at his fellow-traveller.
" Why, that would be the ruin of a man like me. 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 help 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 must. I'm look-
ing out this morning for something new and suitable," he
said, nodding towards the city.

" What kind of thing now .'' " Mr. Pinch demanded.

" I was thinking," Mark replied, " of something in the
grave-digging way."

"Good Gracious, Mark ! " cried Mr. Pinch.

" It's a good damp, wormy sort of business, sir," said
Mark, shaking his head, argumentatively, " 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. Vou don't happen to know how that is, in
general, do you, sir .'' "

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

75

"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 Mark, musing again, " there's other busi-
nesses. Undertaking" now. That's gloomy. There might
be credit to be gained there. A broker's man in a poor
neighborhood woukln't be bad perhaps. A jailor sees a deal
of misery. A doctor's man is in the very midst of murder.
A bailiff's an't a lively office nat'rally. Even a tax-gatherer
must find his feelings rather worked upon at times. There's
lots of trades, in which I should have an opportunity, I think."

Mr. Pinch was so perfectly overwhelmed by these remarks
that he could do nothing but occasionally exchange a word or
two on some indifferent subject, and cast sidelong glances at
the bright face of his odd friend (who seemed quite uncon-
scious of his observation), until they reached a certain corner
of the road, close upon the outskirts of the city, when Mark
said he would jump down there, if he pleased.

" But bless my soul, Mark," said Mr. Pinch, who in the
progress of his observation just then made the discovery that
the bosom of his companion'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 ?
Well, there'd be some credit in l^eing jolly, with a inflamma-
tion of the lungs."

As Mr. Pinch returned no other answer than such as was
conveyed in 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. Pinch, and looking one of the most careless,
good-humored, comical fellows in life. His late companion,
with a thoughtful face, pursued his way to Salisbury.

Mr. Pinch had a shrewd notion that Salisbury was a veiy
desperate sort of place, an exceeding wild and dissipated city ;
and when he had put up the horse, and given the hostler to

76

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 fillecl with carts, horses, don-
keys, baskets, wagons, garden stuff, meat, tripe, pies, poultr}',
and huckster's wares of every opposite description and possi-
ble 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 recei\ing huge amounts of greasy wealth, with the assist-
ance of such bulky pocketbooks 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 farm-
ers' 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 confusion of
tongues, both brute and human.

Mr. Pinch regarded everything exposed for sale with 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 foun*d out) among them. When he
had exhausted themaiket-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
acrain, to wander round the town and re2;ale himself with the
shop windows ; previously taking a long stare at the bank,
and wondering in what direction underground, 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. Tirst of all, there were the jewellers'

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 77

shops, with all the treasures of the earth displayed therein,
and such large silver watches hanging up in e\ery pane of
glass, that if they were anything but first-rate goers it certain-
ly was not because the works could decently complain of want
of room. In good sooth they were 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 repeater, gifted with the un-
common power of striking every quarter of an hour inside the
pocket of its happy owner, he almost wished that he was rich
enough ii buy it.

But what were even gold and silver, precious stones and
clockwork, to the bookshops, whence a pleasant smell of paper
freshly pressedtame issuing forth, awakening instant recollec-'
tions of some new grammar had at school, long time ago, with,
" Master Pinch, Grove House Academy," inscribed in fault-
less writing on the fiy-leaf ! That whiff of russia leather, too,
and all those rows on rows of volumes, neatly ranged within :
what happiness 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 unwary 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 frontispiece and trini
vignette, pointing like hand-posts on the outskirts of great
cities, to the rich stock of incident beyond ; and store of books,
with many a grave portrait and time-honored 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. Peck-
sniff'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 host of 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 of 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 in his bedroom : and

78

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

there the mighty tahsman, the rare Arabian Nights, with
Cassim Baba, divided by 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, did so rub up
and chafe that wonderful lamp within 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,
the happy days before the Pecksniff era.

He had less interest now in the chemists' shops, with their
great glowing bottles (with smaller repositories of brightness
in their very stoppers) ; and in their agreeable compromises
between medicine and prefumery, in the shape of toothsome
lozenges and virgin honey. Neither had he the least regard
(but he never had much) for the tailors', 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 anywhere 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 <rentleman with lonsr dark hair came out, and
told a boy to run home to liis lodging and bring down his
broadsword. Mr. Pinch stood rooted to the spot on hearing
this, and might have stood there until dark, but that the old
cathedral bell began to ring for vesper service, on which 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 ancient 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 rolled 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 light-

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 79

est recollection of childhood. The feeling that the sounds
awakened, in the moment of their existence, 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 so much the brighter that Tom might have for-
gotten the new pupil and the expectant master, and have sat
there pouring out his grateful heart till midnight, but for a
very earthy old verger insisting on locking up the cathedral
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 his dinner.

All the farmers being by this time jogging homewards,
there was nobody in the sanded parlor of the tavern where he
had left the horse : so he had his little table drawn out close
before the fire, and fell to work upon a well-cooked steak and
smoking hot potatoes, with a strong appreciation of the ex-
cellence, and a veiy keen sense of enjoyment. Beside him,
too, there stood a jug of most stupendous Wiltshire beer ; aiifl
the effect of the whole was so transcendent, that he was obliged
e\ery now and then to lay down his knife and fork, rub his
hands, and think about it. By the time the cheese and celery
came, Mr. Pinch had taken a book out of his pocket, and
could afford to trifle with the viands ; now eating a little, now
drinking a little, now reading a little, and now stopping to
wonder what sort of a young man the new pupil would 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 positively seemed at first to put the fire out.

" Very hard frost to-night, sir," said the new-comer, cour-
teously 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 the very centre of the hearth, notwith-
standing ; and sat down in front of the fire, with a foot on
each hob.

" My feet are quite numl)ed. 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 room so cool," thought

8o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Pinch. " Poor fellow ! How thoroughly chilled he must
be ! "

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 J 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 began to bite his nails.
He was young — one-and-twenty — perhaps — and handsome ;
with a keen dark eye, and a quickness of look and manner
which made Tom sensible of a great contrast in his own bear-
ing, and caused him 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 nervous sympathy with its 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 confusion came upon Tom as if he had been
found out in something ; and it was a perception of his un-
easiness which caused the younger man 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 other looked at him with some surprise.

" The young gentleman I expect," remarked Tom, timidly,
" was to inquire at that time for a person by the name of
Pinch."

" Dear me ! " cried the other, jumping up. " And I have
been keeping the fire from you all this while ! I had no idea
you were Mr. Pinch. I am the Mr. Martin for whom 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 embarrassed frankness pecuharly his, and which was
as plainly a confession of his own imperfections, and an ap-
peal to the kindness of the person he addressed, as if he had

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 8 1

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 jw^."

"No, really! " said Tom, with great pleasure. "Are you
serious ? "

" Upon my word I am," replied his new acquaintance.
" You and I 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 ever}'body, and
that's the point on which I had the greatest doubts. But
they're quite relieved now. — Do me the favor to ring the bell,
will you ? "

Mr. Pinch rose, and complied with great alacrity — 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 w'as :

" 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 manner. To let you into a secret, Mr. Pinch,
I never was so much in want of something warm and cheer-
ing in my life ; but I didn't like to run the chance of being
found drinking it, without knowing what kind of person you
were ; for first impressions, you know, often go a long way,
and last a long time."

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. Chuzzlewit is my name."

" Dear me ! " cried Mr. Pinch, with an involuntary start.

" You're not surprised at my having two names, I sup

6

82 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

pose ? " 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 pri-
vately cautioned him to say nothing 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 looked 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 for 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 of the splendor 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. Then he settled his bill, and Mr. Chuzzlewit paid
for the punch ; and having wrapped themselves up, to the ex-
tent of their respective means, they went out together to the
front door, where Mr. Pecksniff's property stopped the way.

" I won't drive, thank you, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, get-
ting into the sitter's place. " By-the-bye, there's a box of
mine. Can we manage 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 somehow, and Mr. Chuzzlewit helped him.
It was all on Mr. Pinch's side, and Mr. Chuzzlewit said he
was ver}^ much afraid it would encumber him ; to which Tom
said, " Not at all ; " though it forced him into such an awk-
ward 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

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. S3

carriage, and by interposing a perfect wall of box and man
between it and the new pupil, he shielded that young gentle-
man effectually ; 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 exquisitely beautiful. At first, the great
serenity and peace through which they travelled, disposed
them both to silence ; but in a very short time the punch
within them and the healthful air without, made them loqua-
cious, 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 them, and which had
not the effect of making them less conversational than before.
Their principal topic of discourse was naturally Mr. Pecksniff
and his family ; of whom, and of the great obligations they
had heaped upon him, Tom Pinch, with the tears standing in
his eyes, drew such a picture, as would have inclined any one
of common feeling almost to revere them ; and of which Mr.
Pecksniff had not the slightest foresight or preconceived idea,
or he certainly (being very humble) would not have sent Tom
Pinch to bring the pupil home.

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 spire 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 ! " said Martin, observing that his com-
panion slackened the slack pace of the horse, as they ap-
proached.

" 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 ? "

"Nothing," answered Tom.

"Well," returned his friend, "3'ou are a ver}' strange fel-
low ! "

To which remark there succeeded a brief silence.

" When I say nothing," observed Mr. Pinch, cheerfully,
" I am wrong, and don't say what I mean, because I get a

84 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 dare
say ? "

" Oh yes, I shall. What ? "

" It led to my seeing," said Tom, in a lower voice, " one of
the loveliest and most beautiful faces 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 be-
lieving her to be a spirit. A moment's reflection got the bet-
ter of that of course, and fortunately it came to my relief
so soon, that I didn't leave off jDlaying."

" Why fortunately t "

" Why ? Because she stood there, listening. I had my
spectacles on, and saw her through the chinks in the curtains
as plainly as I see you ; and she was beautiful. After a while
she glided ofT, 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 were no people about, and always alone.
I rose early and sat there later, 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 this 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 ? "

"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 her from a place she seemed to grow quite fond
of ? Now, Heaven bless her ! " cried Tom, "to have given her

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 8 5

but a minute's pleasure every day, I would have gone on play-
ing the organ at those times until I was an old man ; quite
contented if she sometimes thought of a poor fellow like me, as
a part of the music ; and more than recompensed if she ever
mLxed me 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 advice, but for their opportune arrival at
Mr. Pecksniff's door ; the front door this time, on account of
the occasion being one of ceremony and rejoicing. The same
man was in waiting for the horse who had been adjured by
Mr. Pinch in the morning 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 syl-
lable of what he Had just told him in the fulness of his heart,
Tom led the pupil in, for instant presentation.

Mr. Pecksniff had clearly not expected them for hours to
come : for he was surrounded by open books, and was glanc-
ing 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 s'hapes that
they looked like designs for fireworks. Neither had Miss
Charity expected them, for 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 tlie — oh good gracious !
— the petticoat of a large doll that she was dressing for a
neighbor's child : really, quite a grown-up doll, which made it
more confusing : and had its little bonnet dangling by the rib-
bon 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 family so thoroughly taken by
surprise as the Pecksniff's were, on this occasion.

" Bless my life ! '' said Mr. Pecksniff, looking up, and grad-
ually exchanging his abstracted face for one of joyful recog-
nition. " 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 him 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 daughters, Mar-
tin : my two only children, whom (if you ever saw them) you

86 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

have not beheld — ah, these sad family divisions ! — since you
were infants together. Nay, my dears, why blush at being
detected in your everyday pursuits ? We had prepared to
give you the reception of a visitor, Martin, in our little room
of state," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling, " but I like this better,
I like this better ! "

Oh blessed star of Innocence, wherever you may be, how
did you glitter in your home of ether, when the two Miss Peck-
sniffs put forth, each her lily hand, and gave the same, with
mantling cheeks, to Martin ! How did you twinkle, as if flut-
tering 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 soft 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, Martin } "

" 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 but 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. Pecksniff, 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'll bear us company, Tom Pinch ? "

Ay, cheerfully, though it had been to death, would Tom
have followed him : glad to lay down his life for such a man !

MA ff TIIV CHUZZL E WIT.

87

"This," said Mr. Pecksniff, opening the door of an oppo-
site parlor, " is the httle room of state, I mentioned to you.
My girls have pride in it, Martin ! This," opening another
door, " is the little chamber in which my works (slight things
at best) have been concocted. Portrait of myself by Spiller.
Bust by Spoker. The latter is considered a good likeness. I
seem to recognize something 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. Pecksniff, waving
his hand towards the wall, "connected with our pursuit. I
have scribbled myself, but have not yet published. Be careful
how you come up stairs. This," opening another door, " is
my chamber. I read here when the family suppose I have
retired to rest. Sometimes I injure my health, rather more
than I can quite justify myself, by doing so ; but art is long
and time is short. Every facility you see for jotting down
crude notions, even here."

These latter words were explained by his pointing to a
small round table on which were a lamp, divers sheets of paper,
a piece of India rubber, and a case of instruments : all put
ready, in case an architectural idea should come into Mr.
Pecksniff's head in the night, in which event he would in-
stantly 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 any-
thing 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 splendor, seek here in vain."

With that he led them to the floor above.

88 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"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 steeple 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 the candle rapid-
ly from roll to roll of paper, " some traces of our doings here.
Salisbury Cathedral 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, ever)' kind
of thing. And this," he added, having by this time reached
another large chamber on the same story, with four little beds
in it, " this is your room, of wdiich Mr. Pinch here is the quiet
sharer. A southern aspect ; a charming prospect ; Mr. Pinch's
little library, you perceive ; ever}'thing agreeable and appro-
priate. If there is any additional comfort you would desire
to have here at any time, pray mention it. Even to strangers,
far less to you, my dear Martin, there is no restriction on that
point."

It was undoubtedly true, and may be stated in corrobora-
tion of Mr. Pecksniff, that any pupil had the most liberal per-
mission to mention anything in this way that suggested itself
to his fancy. Some young gentlemen had gone on mentioning
the very same thing for five years without ever being stopped.

" The domestic assistants," said Mr. Pecksniff, " sleep
above ; and that is all." After which, and listening compla-
cently as he went, to the encomiums, passed by his young
friend on the arrangements generally, he led the way to the
parlor again.

Here a great change had taken place ; for festive prepara-
tions on a rather extensive scale were already completed, and
the two Miss Pecksniffs were awaiting their return with hos-
pitable looks. There were two bottles of currant wine, white
and red ; a dish of sandwiches (very long and very slim) ;
another of apples ; another of captain's 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
geological home-made cake. The magnitude of these prepara-
tions quite took away Tom Pinch's breath : for though the

en

oo

<

u

O

o

W

X
a

as
a
X

OS

■J>

II

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 89

new pupils were usually let down softly, as one may say, par-
ticularly in the wine department, which had so many stages of
declension, 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 both light and cool, Mr. Peck-
sniff 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 drink to
our new inmate, and may we be happy together ! Martin, my
dear friend, my love to you ! Mr. Pinch, if you spare the
bottle we shall quarrel."

And trying (in his regard for the feelings of the rest) to
look as if the wine were not acid and didn't make him wink,
Mr. Pecksniff did honor to his own toast.

"This," he said, in allusion to the party, not the wine, " is
a Mingling that repays one for much disappointment and
vexation. Let us be merry." Here he took a captain's bis-
cuit. " It is a poor heart that never rejoices ; and our hearts
are not poor. No ! "

With such stimulants to merriment did he beguile the time,
and do the honors of the table ; while Mr. Pinch, perhaps to
assure himself that what he saw and heard was holiday reality,
and not a charming dream, ate of everything, and in particular
disposed of the slim sandwiches to a surprising extent. Nor
was he stinted in his draughts of wine ; but on the contrarj^,
remembering Mr. Pecksniff's speech, attacked the bottle with
such vigor, that every time he filled his glass anew, Miss
Charity, despite her amiable resolves, could not repress a fixed
and stony glare, as if her eyes had rested on a ghost. Mr.
Pecksniff also became thoughtful at those moments, not to
say dejected ; but as he knew the vintage, it is very likely he
may have been speculating on the probable condition of Mr.
Pinch upon the morrow, and discussing within himself the
best remedies for colic.

Martin and the young ladies were excellent friends already,
and compared recollections of their childish days, to their
mutual liveliness and entertainment. Miss Mercy laughed
immensely at everything that was said ; and sometimes, after
glancing at the happy face of Mr. Pinch, was seized with such

9°

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

fits of mirth as brought her to the very confines of hysterics.
But for these bursts of gayety, her sister, in her better sense,
reproved her ; observing, in an angry whisper, that it was far
from being a theme for jest •; and tliat she had no patience
with the creature ; though it generally ended in her laughing
too — but much more moderately — and saying, that indeed it
was a little too ridiculous and intolerable to be serious about.

At length it became high time to remember the first clause
of that great discovery made by the ancient philosopher, for
securing health, riches, and wisdom ; the infallibility of which
has been for generations verified by the enormous fortunes
constantly amassed by chimney-sweepers and other persons
who get up early and go to bed betimes. The young ladies
accordingly rose, and having taken leave of Mr. Chuzzlewit
with much sweetness, and of their father with much duty, and
of Mr. Pinch with much condescension, retired to their bower.
Mr. Pecksniff insisted on accompanying his 5^oung friend
up stairs, for personal superintendence of his comforts \ and
taking him by the arm, conducted him once more to his bed-
room, followed by Mr. Pinch, who bore the light.

" Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, seating himself with folded
arms on one of the spare beds. " I don't see any snuffers in
that candlestick. Will you oblige me by going down, and
asking for a pair } "

Mr. Pinch, only too happy to be useful, went off directly.

" You will excuse Thomas Pinch's want of polish, Martin,"
said Mr. Pecksniff, with a smile of patronage and pity, as soon
as he had left the room. " He means well."

" He is a very good fellow, sir."

" Oh, yes," said Mr. Pecksniff". " Yes. Thomas Pinch
means well. He is very grateful. I have never regretted
having befriended Thomas Pinch."

" I should think you never would, sir."

" No," said Mr. Pecksniff. "No. I hope not. Poor fel-
low, he is always disposed to do his best ; but he is not gifted.
You will make him useful to you, Martin, if you please. If
Thomas has a fault, it is that he is sometimes a little apt to
forget his position. But that is soon checked. Worthy
soul '! You will find him easy to manage. Good night ! "

"Good night, sir."

By this time Mr. Pinch had returned with the snuffers.

" And good night to you, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff.
'' And sound sleep to you both. Bless you ! Bless you ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 91

Invoking this benediction on tlie heads of his young
friends with great fervor, he withdrew to his own room ; while
they, being tired, soon fell asleep. If IVIartin dreamed at all,
some clew to the matter of his visions may possibly be
gathered from the after-pages of this histor}^ Those of
Thomas Pinch were all of holidays, church organs, and
seraphic Pecksniffs. It was some time before Mr. Pecksniff
dreamed at all, or even sought his pillow, as he sat for full
two hours before the fire in his own chamber, looking at the
coals and thinking deeply. But he, too, slept and dreamed
at last. Thus in the quiet hours of the night, one house
shuts in as many incoherent and incongruous fancies as a
madman's head.

CHAPTER VI.

COMPRISES, AMONG OTHER IMPORTANT MATTERS, PECKSNIFFIAN
AND ARCHITECTURAL, AN EXACT RELATION OF THE PRO-
GRESS MADE BY MR. PINCH IN THE CONFIDENCE AND
FRIENDSHIP OF THE NEW PUPIL,

It was morning ; and the beautiful Aurora, of whom so
much had been written, said, and sung, did, with her rosy
fingers, nip and tweak Miss Pecksniff's nose. It was the frolic-
some custom of the Goddess, in her intercourse with the fair
Cherry, so to do : or in more prosaic phrase, the tip of that
feature in the sweet girl's countenance, was always very red
at breakfast-time. For the most part, indeed, it wore, at that
season of the day, a scraped and frosty look, as if it had been
rasped ; while a similar phenomenon developed itself in her
humor, which was then observed to be of a sharp and acid
quality, as though an extra lemon (figuratively speaking) had
been squeezed into the nectar of her disposition, and had
rather damaged its flavor.

This additional pungency on the part of the fair young
creature led, on ordinary occasions, to such slight conse-
quences as the copious dilution of Mr. Pinch's tea, or to his
coming off uncommonly short in respect of butter, or to other
the like results. But on the morning after the Installation

p2 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT.

Banquet, she suffered him to wander to and fro among the
eatables and drinkables, a perfectly free and unchecked man ;
so utterly to Mr. Pinch's wonder and confusion, that like the
wretched captive who recovered his liberty in his old age, he
could make but little use of his enlargement, and fell into a
strange kind of flutter for want of some kind hand to scrape
his bread, and cut him off in the article of sugar with a lump,
and pay him those other little attentions to which he was
accustomed. There was something almost awful, too, about
the self-possession of the new pupil; who "troubled" Mr.
Pecksniff for the loaf, and helped himself to a rasher of that
gentleman's own particular and private bacon, with all the
coolness in life. He even seemed to think that he was doing
quite a regular thing, and to expect that Mr. Pinch would
follow his example, since he took occasion to observe of that
young man " that he didn't get on ; " a speech of so tremen-
dous a character, that Tom cast down his eyes involuntarily,
and felt as if he himself had committed some horrible deed
and heinous breach of Mr. Pecksniff's confidence. Indeed,
the agony of having such an indiscreet remark addressed to
him before the assembled family, was breakfast enough in
itself, and would, without any other matter of reflection, have
settled Mr. Pinch's business and quenched his appetite, for
one meal, though he had been never so hungry.

The young ladies, however, and Mr. Pecksniff likewise,
remained in the very best of spirits in spite of these severe
trials, though with something of a mysterious understanding
among themselves. When the meal was nearly over, Mr.
Pecksniff smilingly explained the cause of their common
satisfaction.

"It is not often," he said, "Martin, that my daughters
and I desert our quiet home to pursue the giddy round of
pleasures that revolves abroad. But we think of doing so
to-day."

" Indeed, sir ! " cried the new pupil.

" Yes," said Mr. Pecksniff, tapping his left hand with a
letter which he held in his right. " I have a summons here
to repair to London : on professional business, my dear
Martin ; strictly on professional business ; and I promised my
girls, long ago, that whenever that happened again, they
should accompany me. We shall go forth to-night by the
heavy coach — like the dove of old, my dear Martin — and it
will be a week before we again deposit our olive-branches in

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT.

93

the passage. When I say oUve-branches," observed Mr.
Pecksniff, in explanation, " I mean, our unpretending lug-

" I hope the young ladies will enjoy their trip," said
Martin.

" Oh ! that I'm sure we shall ! " cried Mercy, clapping her
hands. " Good gracious. Cherry, my darling, the idea of
London ! "

" Ardent child ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, gazing on her in a
dreamy way. " And yet there is a melancholy sweetness in
these youthful hopes ! It is pleasant to know that they never
can be realized. I remember thinking once myself, in the
days of my childho.od, that pickled onions grew on trees, and
that every elephant was born with an impregnable castle on
his back. I ha\'e not found the fact to be so ; far from it ;
and yet those visions have comforted me under circumstances
of trial. Even when 1 have had the anguish of discovering
that I have nourished in my breast an ostrich, and not a
human pupil : even in that hour of agony, thev have toothed
me."

At this dread allusion to John Westlock, Mr. Pinch pre-
cipitately choked in his tea ; for he had that very morning
received a letter from him, as Mr. Pecksniff \ery well knew.

"You will take care, my dear Martin," said Mr. Pecksniff,
resuming his former cheerfulness, " that the house does not
run away in our absence. We leave you in charge of e\-ery-
thing. There is no mystery; all is free and open. Unlike
the young man in the Eastern tale — who is described as a one-
eyed almanack, if I am not mistaken, Mr. Pinch ? "

"A one-eyed calendar, I think, sir," faltered Tom.

" They are pretty nearly the same thing, I believe," said
Mr. Pecksniff, smiling compassionately ; " or they used to be
in my time. Unlike that young man, my dear Martin, you
are forbidden to enter no corner of tliis house \ but are re-
quested to make yourself perfectly at home in every part of it.
You will be jovial, my dear Martin, and will kill the fatted
calf if you please ! "

There was not the least objection, doubtless, to the young
man's slaughtering and appropriating to his own use any calf,
fat or lean, that he might happen to find upon the premises ;
but as no such animal chanced at that time to be grazing on
Mr. Pecksniff's estate, this request must be considered rather
as a polite compliment than a substantial hospitality. It was

54 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

the finishing ornament of the conversation ; for when he had
deUvered it, Mr. Pecksniff rose, and led the way to that hot-
bed of architectural genius, the two-pair front.

" Let me see," he said, searching among the papers, "'how
you can best employ yourself, Martin, while I am absent.
Suppose you were to give me your idea of a monument to a
Lord Mayor of London ; or a tomb for a sheriff ; or your
notion of a cow-house to be erected in a nobleman's park.
Do you know, now," said Mr. Pecksniff, folding his hands,
and looking at his young relation with an air of pensive
interest, " that I should very much like to see your notion of
a cow-house .'' "

But Martin by no means appeared to relish this suggestion.

" A pump," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is very chaste practice.
I have found that a lamp-post is calculated to refine the mind
and give it a classical tendency. An ornamental turnpike
has a remarkable effect upon the imagination. What do you
say to beginning with an ornamental turnpike ? "

"Whatever Mr. Pecksniff pleased," said Martin, doubt-
fully.

" Stay," said that gentleman. " Come ! as you're am-
bitious, and are a very neat draughtsman, you shall — ha, ha !
— you shall try your hand on these proposals for a grammar-
school ; regulating your plan, of course, by the printed par-
ticulars. Upon my word, now," said Mr. Pecksniff, merrily,
" I shall be very curious to see what you make of the
grammar-school. Who knows but a young man of your taste
might hit upon something, impracticable and unlikely in itself,
but which I could put into shape ? For it really is, my dear
Martin, it really is in the finishing touches alone, that great
experience and long study in these matters tell. Ha, ha, ha !
Now it really will be," continued Mr. Pecksniff, clapping his
young friend on the back in his droll humor, "an amusement
to me, to see what you make of the grammar-school."

Martin readily undertook this task, and Mr. Pecksniff
forthwith proceeded to entrust him with the materials neces-
sary for its execution ; dwelling meanwhile on the magical
effect of a few finishing touches from the hand of a master ;
which, indeed, as some people said (and these were the old
enemies again ! ) was unquestionably very surprising, and
almost miraculous ; as there were cases on record in which
the masterly introduction of an additional back window, or a
kitchen door, or half-a-dozen steps, or even a water spout, had

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. g^

made the design of a pupil Mr. Pecksniff's own work, and
had brought substantial rewards into that gentleman's pocket.
Eut such is the magic of genius, which changes all it handles
into gold !

" When your mind requires to be refreshed, by change of
occupation," said Mr. Pecksniff, " Thomas Pinch will instruct
you in the art of surx^eying the back garden, or in ascertain-
ing the dead level of the road between this house and the
finger-post, or in any other practical and pleasing pursuit.
There are a cart-load of loose bricks, and a score or two of
old flower-pots, in the back yard. If you could pile them up,
my dear Martin, into any form which would remind me on my
return, say of St. Peter's at Rome, or the Mosque of St.
Sophia at Constantinople, it would be at once improving to
you and agreeable to my feelings. And now," said Mr.
Pecksniff, in conclusion, " to drop, for the present, our pro-
fessional relations and advert to private rtiatters, I shall be
glad to talk with you in my own room, while I pack up my
portmanteau."

Martin attended him ; and they remained in secret con-
ference together for an hour or more ; leaving Tom Pinch
alone. When the young man returned, he was very taciturn
and dull, in which state he remained all day ; so that Tom,
after tr}'ing him once or twice with indifferent conversation,
felt a delicacy in obtruding himself upon his thoughts, and
said no more.

He would not have had leisure to say much, had his new
friend been ever so loquacious ; for first of all Mr. Pecksniff
called him down to stand upon the top of his portmanteau
and represent ancient statues there, until such time as it
would consent to be locked ; and then Miss Charity called
him to come and cord her trunk ; and then Miss Mercy sent
for him to come and mend her box ; and then he wrote the
fullest possible cards for all the luggage ; and then he volun-
teered to carry it all down stairs ; and after that to see it
safely carried on a couple of barrows to the old finger-post at
the end of the lane ; and then to mind it till the coach came
up. In short, his day's work would have been a pretty hea\y
one for a porter, but his thorough good-will made nothing of
it ; and as he sat upon the luggage at last, waiting for the
Pecksniffs, escorted by the new pupil, to come down the lane,
his heart was light with the hope of having pleased his bene-
factor.

96

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I was almost afraid," said Tom, taking a letter from his
pocket, and wiping his face, for he was hot with busthng about
though it was a cold day, " that I shouldn't have had time to
write it, and that would have been a thousand pities ; postage
from such a distance being a serious consideration, when one's
not rich. She will be glad to see my hand, poor girl, and to
hear that Pecksniff is as kind as ever. I would have asked
John Westlock to call and see her, and tell her all about me
by word of mouth, but I was afraid he might speak against
Pecksniff to her, and make her uneasy. Besides, they are
particular people where she is, and it might have rendered her
situation uncomfortable if she had had a visit from a young
man like John. Poor Ruth ! "

Tom Pinch seemed a little disposed to be melancholy for
half a minute or so, but he found comfort very soon, and pur-
sued his ruminations thus :

" I'm a nice m'an, I don't think, as John used to say (John
was a kind, meny-hearted fellow : I wish he had liked Peck-
sniff better), to be feeling low, on account of the distance be-
tween us, when I ought to be thinking, instead, of my extri
ordinary good-luck in having ever got here. I must have been
born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I am sure, to have ever
come across Pecksniff. And here have I fallen again into my
usual good-luck with the new pupil ! Such an affable, gener-
ous, free fellow, as he is, I never saw. Why, we were com-
panions directly ! and he a relation of Pecksniff's too, and a
clever, dashing youth who might cut his way through the
world as if it were a cheese ! Here he comes while the words
are on my lips," said Tom : "walking down the lane as if the
lane belonged to him."

In truth, the new pupil, not at all disconcerted by the
honor of having Miss Mercy Pecksniff on his arm, or by the
affectionate adieux of that young lady, approached as Mr.
Pinch spoke, followed by Miss Charity and Mr. Pecksniff..
As the coach appeared at the same moment, Tom lost no time
in entreating the gentleman last mentioned, to undertake the
deliveiy of his letter.

" Oh ! ■' said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing at the superscription.
" For your sister, Thomas. Yes, oh yes, it shall be delivered,
Mr. Pinch. Make your mind easy upon that score. She shall
certainly have it, Mr. Pinch."

He made the promise with so much condescension and
patronage, that Tom felt he had asked a great deal (this had

MARTIN CIIUZZLElVir. 97

not occurred to his mind before), and thanked him earnestly.
1 he Miss Pecksnififs, according to a custom they had, were
amused beyond description, at the mention of Mr. Pinch's
sister. Oh the fright ! The bare idea of a Miss Pinch !
Good heavens !

Tom was greatly pleased to see them so merry, for he took
it as a token of their favor, and good-humored regard. There-
fore he laughed too and rubbed his hands, and wished them
a pleasant journey and safe return, and was quite brisk. Even
when the coach had rolled away with the olive-branches in
the boot and the family of doves inside, he stood waving his
hand and bowing : so much gratified by the unusually courte-
ous demeanor of the young ladies, that he was quite regard-
less, for the moment, of Martin Chuzzlewit, who stood leaning
thoughtfully against the finger-post, and who, after disposing
of his fair charge, had hardly lifted his eyes from the ground.
The perfect silence which ensued upon the bustle and de-
parture of the coach, together with the sharp air of the wintry
afternoon, roused them both at the same time. They turned,
as by mutual consent, and moved off, arm-in-arm.

" How melancholy you are ! " said Tom " what is the
matter ? "

" Nothing worth speaking of," said Martin. " Very little
more than was the matter yesterday, and much more, I hope,
than will be the matter to-morrow. I'm out of spirits. Pinch."
"Well," cried Tom, ''now do you know I am in capital
spirits to-day, and scarcely ever felt more disposed to be good
company. It was a very kind thing in your predecessor, John,
to write to me, was it not ? "

"Why, yes," said Martin carelessly; "I should have
thought he would have had enough to do to enjoy himself, with-
out thinking of you. Pinch."

"Just what I felt to be so very likely," Tom rejoined;
"but no, he keeps his word, and says, 'My dear Pinch, I
often think of you,' and all sorts of kind and considerate
things of that description."

" He must be a devilish good-natured fellow-," said Mar-
tin, somewhat peevishly : " because he can't mean that, you
know."

" I don't suppose he can, eh ? " said Tom, looking wist-
fully in his companion's face. " He says so to please me, you
think ? "

" Why, is it likely," rejoined Martin, with greater earnest-

7

98

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ness, " that a young man newly escaiDed from this kennel of
a place, and fresh to all the delights of being his own master
in London, can have much leisure or inclination to think
favorably of anything or anybody he has left behind him
here ? I put it to you, Pinch, is it natural ? "

After a short reflection, Mr. Pinch replied, in a more sub-
di^d tone, that to be sure it was unreasonable 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. Pinch, mildly. " I said so."
And when he had made this rejoinder, they fell into a blank
silence again, which lasted until they reached home : by which
time it was dark.

Now, Miss Charity Pecksniff, in consideration of the
inconvenience of carrying them with her in the coach, and the
impossibility of preserving them by artificial means until the
family's return, liad set forth, in a couple of plates, the frag-
ments of yesterday's feast. In virtue of which liberal arrange-
ment, they had the happiness to find awaiting them in the
parlor 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 geological cake,
and several entire captain's biscuits. Thar choice liquor in
which to steep these dainties might not be wanting, the re-
mains of the two bottles of currant wine had been poured to-
gether and corked with a curl-paper ; so that every material
was at hand for making quite a heavy night of it.

Martin Chuzzlewit beheld these roystering preparations
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 cor-
ner that was left for him, Mr. Pinch took up his position on
Miss Mercy Pecksniff'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 him-
self, tub and all, into Mr. Pecksniff's parlor, and could have
seen Tom Pinch as he sat on Mercy Pecksniff's stool, with
his plate and glass before him, lie could not have faced it out,
though in his surliest mood, but must have smiled good-tem-
peredly. 'I'he perfect and entire satisfaction of Tom; his
surpassing appreciation of the husky sandwiches, which cnun-

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

99

bled in his mouth like saw-dust ; 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 flavor were a sin ; the look with which he
paused sometimes, with his glass in his hand, proposing silent
toasts to himself ; and the anxious shade that came upon his
contented face when after wandering 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 gritfin, could have withstood these things in
Thomas. Pinch.

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 vmegar — ay, and liked its flavor 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 which last class was Martin Chuzzlewit, who, una-
ble to restrain himself, at last laughed loud and long.

" That's right," said Tom, nodding approvingly. " Cheer
up ! That's capital ! "

At which encouragement, young Martin laughed again ;
and said, as soon as he had breath and gravity enough :

" I never saw such a fellow as you are. Pinch."

" Didn't you though .? " said 1 om. " Well, it's very likely
you do find me strange, because I have hardly seen anything
of the world, and you ha\e seen a good deal I dare say ? "

" Pretty well for my time of life," rejoined Martin, draw-
ing his chair still nearer to the fire, and spreading his feet out
on the fender. " Deuce take it, I must talk openly to some-
body. rU talk openly to you. Pinch."

" Do ! " said Tom. " 1 shall take it as being very friendly
of you."

"I'm not in your way, am I ? " inciuired Martin, 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 stor)%"
said Martin, beginning with a kind of effort, as if the revela-
tion 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 1 am

lOo MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

going to tell you, and which have led to my being disin-
herited."

" By your father ? " inquired Mr. Pinch, with open eyes.

" By my grandfather. I have had no parents these many
years. Scarcely within my remembrance."

" Neither have I," said I'om, 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 ver)^ right and proper to be fond of pareijts 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,
why 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

agam.

"In a word," said Martin, " I have been bred and reared
all my life by this grandfather of whom I have just spoken.
Nmv, 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 side. 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 abominably 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 failings of our fam-
ily j and I believe there's some truth in it. 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. "Ver}' proper."

"Well, sir," resumed Martin, stirring the fire once more,
arid drawing his chair still closer to it, " his selfishness makes
him exacting, you see ; and his obstinacy makes him resolute
in his exactions. The consequence is that he has always ex-
acted a great deal from me in the way of respect, and sub-
mission, and self-denial when his wishes were in question, and

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. loi

SO forth. I have borne a great deal from him, because I liave
been under obligations to him (if one can ever be said to be
under obligations to one's own grandfather), 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 my-
self 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 difficulty of this sort; said nothing.

" Well ! as you understand me," resumed Martin, quick-
ly, " I needn't hunt for the precise expression I want. Now,
I come to the cream of my story, and the occasion of my be-
ing here. I am in love. Pinch."

Mr. Pinch looked up into his face with increased 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 favored my passion, she
would lose her home and every thing 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 yet in consideration for her sj^te
of dependence, not even to disclose "

"What are you talking about. Pinch ?" said Martin pet-
tishly : " don't make yourself ridiculous, my good fellow !
What do you mean by not disclosing? "

"1 beg your 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
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. Pinch," 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 are right. Her heart was mine,
I found."

"Just what I supposed," said Tom. "Quite natural!"
and, in his great satisfaction, he took a long sip out of his
wineglass

I02 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Although I had conducted myself from the first with the
utmost circumspection," pursued Martin, " I had not managed
matters so well but that my grandfather, who -is full of jeal-
ousy and distrust, suspected me of loving her. He said noth-
ing to her, but straightway attacked me in private, and
charged me with designing to corrupt the fidelity to himself
(there you observe his sefishness), of a young creature whom
he had trained and educated to be his only disinterested and
faithful companion when he should have disposed of me in
marriage to his heart's content. Upon that, I took fire imme-
diately, and told him that with his good leave I would dispose
of myself in marriage, and would rather not be knocked down
by him or any other auctioneer to any bidder whomsoever.'"

Mr. Pinch opened his eyes wider and looked at the fire
harder than he had done vet.

"You may be sure," said Martin, "that this nettled him,
and that he began to be the very reverse of complimentar)^ to
myself. Interview succeeded interview ; words engendered
words, as they always do ; and the upshot of it was, that I
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 determined — "

"Obstinacy," suggested Tom in perfect good faith. But
the suggestion was not so well received as he had expected :
for the young man immediately 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 ! "

"And being firm," pursued Martin, "of course I was not
going to yield to him, or give way by so much as the thou-
sandth part of an inch."

" No, no," said Tom.

" On the contrary ; the more he urged, the more I was
determined to oppose him."

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 103

"To be sure ! " said Tom.

" Very well," rejoined Martin, throwing; himself 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 1 !''

Mr. Pinch sat staring at the fire for some minutes with a
puzzled look, such as he might have assumed if some un-
commonly 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, for 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 Salisbur}-, and
there I saw Peckyiifif'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, rubbing 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 all his opinions as I could. Well ! As I said
before, here I am. My engagement with the young lady I
have been telling you about, is likely to be a tolerably long
one ; for neither her prospects, nor mine, are very bright ;
and of course I shall not think of marrying until I am well
able to do so. It would never do, you know, for me to be
plunging myself into poverty and shabbiness 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 chimney-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, be-
cause 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 " Certainly; " so

1 04 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

long, that he might have taken a nap in the inten^al, but he
did say it at last.

" Now, there is one odd coincidence connected with this
love-story," said Martin, " which brings it to an end. You
remember what you told me last night as we were coming
here, about your pretty visitor in the church ? "

"Surely I do," said Tom, rising from his stool, and seat-
ing himself in the chair from which the other had lately risen,
that he might see his face. " 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. " After what
I have heard from Pecksniff, I have no doubt that she came
and went with my grandfather. Don't you drink too much
of that sour wine, or you'll 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 restless im-
patience, 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 person 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 in-
stantly, and gave his young friend the best counsel and com-
fort 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 to 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 homeliness of his face, was pleasanter to
see than many a proud beauty's brightest glance : " what

3/ A A" rnV CHUZZLE WIT. i o 5

never ran smooth yet, can hardly be expected to change its
character for us ; so we must take it as we find it, and fashion
it into the very best shape we can, by patience and good-
humor. I have no power at all ; I needn't tell you that ; but
I have an excellent will ; and if I could ever be of use to
you, in any way whatever, how veiy glad I should be ! "

"Thank you," said Martin, shaking his hand. "You're
a good fellow, upon my word, and speak 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 hesitate
to avail myself of your ser\-ices 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-fork 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, and at the present moment
too."

" What is that ? " demanded Tom.

" Read to me."

" I shall be delighted," cried Tom, catching up the candle,
with enthusiasm. " Excuse xx\\ leaving )-on in the dark a mo-
ment, and I'll fetch a book directly. What will you like?
Shakspeare ? "

" Ay ! " replied his friend, yawning and stretching himself.
" He'll do. I am tired with the bustle of to-day, and the
novelty of ever^'thing about me ; and in such a case, there's
no greater luxury in the world, I think, than being read to
sleep. Yon won't mind my going to sleep, if I can ? "

" Not at all ? " cried Tom.

Then begin as soon as you like. You needn'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 I You can, you know, one of these days when we're
both in the right humor. 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 precious volumes from the

I o6 MAR TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

shelf beside his bed. Martin had in the meantime made him-
self as comfortable as circumstances would permit, by con-
structing 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 cher-
ished 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 gen-
erous in him to bestow all this confidence in me. And that
was she, was it .'' "

But suddenly remembering their compact, he took up the
poem at the place where he had left off, and went on read-
ing ; always forgetting to snuff the candle, until its wick
looked like a mushroom. He gradually became so much in-
terested, 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 hour 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 ! "

CHAPTER VH.

IN WHICH MR. CHEVY SLYME ASSERTS THE INDEPENDENCE OF
HIS SPIRIT, AND THE BLUE DRAGON LOSES A LIMB,

Martin began to work at the grammar-school next morn-
ing, 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

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

[07

to himself. The new pupil received Tom's compliments very
graciously ; and having by this time conceived a real regard
for him, in his own peculiar way, predicted that they would
always be the very best of friends, and that neither of them,
he was certain (but particularly Tom), would ever have reason
to regret the day on which they became acquainted. Mr.
Pinch was delighted to hear him say this, and felt so much
flattered by his kind assurances of friendship and protection,
that he was at a loss how to express the pleasure they afforded
him. And indeed it may be obser\'ed of this friendship, such
as it was, that it had within it more likely materials of endur-
ance than many a sworn brotherhood that has been rich in
promise ; for so long as the one party found a pleasure in pat-
ronizing, and the other in being patronized (which was in the
very essence of their respective characters), it was of all pos-
sible events among the least probable, that the twin demons.
Envy and Pride, would ever arise between them. So in \ery
many cases of friendship, or what passes for it, the old axiom
is reversed, and like clings 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 certain receipts of rents, and deducting Mr.
Pecksniff's commission from the same ; in which abstruse em-
ployment he was much distracted by a habit his new friend
had of whistling aloud, while he was drawing. They were not
a little startled by the unexpected obtrusion into that sanctu-
aiy of genius, of a human head, which although a shaggy and
somewhat alarming head, in appearance, smiled affably upon
them from the doorway, in a manner that was at once wag-
gish, conciliatory, and expressive of approbation.

" I am not' industrious myself, gents both," said tlic 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 Pecksniff
for helping me to the contemplation of such a delicious pic-
ture as you present. You remind me of Whittington, after-
wards thrice Lord Mavor of London. I give you my unsul-
lied word of honor, that you very strongly remind me of that
historical character. You are a pair of VVhittingtons, gents,
without the cat ; which is a most agreeable and blessed ex-
ception to me, for I am not attached to the feline species
My name is Tigg; how do you do .'' "

lo8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 Slyme ? " said Mr. Tigg, interrogatively, and kiss-
ing 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 ! " asked Martin, starting at the mention of a
name he knew. " Pray, what does he want 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 follow his head into the room, " he will
permit me to say that I greatly esteem and respect his char-
acter, which has been most highly commended to me by my
friend Pecksniff ; and that 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 inconvenience 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 ap-
plying them close to Mr. Pinch's ear, " I have come for the
letter."

" For the letter," said Tom, aloud. " What letter t "

" The letter," whispered Tigg, in the same cautious man-
ner as before, " which my friend Pecksniff addressed to Chevy
Slyme, Esquire, and left with you."

" He didn't leave any letter with me," said Tom.

" Hush ! " cried the other. " It's all the same thing,
though not so delicately done by my friend Pecksniff as I
could have wished. The money."

" The money ! " cried Tom, quite scared.

" Exactly so," said Mr. Tigg. With which he rapped Tom
twice or thrice upon the breast and nodded several times, as
though he would say, that he saw they understood each other;
that it was unnecessary to mention the circumstance before a
tnird person ; and that he would take it as a particular favor
if Tom would slip the amount into his hand, as quietly as
possible.

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

roQ

Mr. Pinch, however, was so very much astounded by this
(to Iiim) inexpUcable deportment, that he at once openly de-
clared there must be some mistake, and that he had been
entrusted with no commission whatever ha\'ing any reference
to Mr. Tigg 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 emphatic and unmistakable manner, checked it
off, sentence 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
yovmg men as follows :

"Then I tell you what it is, gents both. There is at this
present moment in this very place, a perfect constellation of
talent and genius, who is involved, through what I cannot but
designate as the culpable negligence of my friend Pecksniff,
in a situation as tremendous, perhaps, as the social inter-
course of the nineteenth century will readily admit of. There
is actually at this instant, at the Blue Dragon in this village,
an ale-hause observe ; a common, paltr}% low-minded, clodhop-
ping, pipe-smoking ale-house ; an individual, of whom it maybe
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 P'ox'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, beats any amount of cock-fighting with which
I am acquainted."

Martin and Mr. Pinch looked, first at each other, and
afterwards at Mr. Tigg, who witli his arms folded on his
breast surveyed them, half in despondency and half in bitter-
ness.

" 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 Slvme is detained for a score — a thing in itself essen-
tially mean ; a low performance on a slate, or possibly chalked
upon the back of a door — I do feel that there is a .screw of
."^uch magnitude loose somewhere, that the whole framework
of society is shaken, and the very first principles of things can

no MA /? TIN CHUZZLE IVl T.

no longer be trusted. In short, gents both," said Mr. Tigg
with a passionate flourish of his hands and head, " when a
man Hke Slyme is detained for such a thing as a bill, I reject
the superstitions of ages, and believe nothing. I don't even
believe that I doii't believe, curse me if I do ! "

" I am very sorry, I am sure," said Tom after a pause,
" but Mr. Pecksniff said nothing to me about it, and I couldn't
act without his instructions. Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you
were to go to — to wherever you came from — yourself, and
remit the money to your friend ? "

" How can that be done, when I am detained also ? " said
Mr. Tigg ; " and when moreover, owing to the astounding,
and I must add, gviilty negligence of my friend Pecksniff, I
have no money for coach-hire ? "

Tom thought of reminding the gentleman (who, no doubt,
in his agitation had forgotten it) that there was a post-office
in the land ; and that possibly 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 then asked :

" Did you say, sir, that you were detained also .'' "

" Come here," said Mr. Tigg, rising. " You have no ob-
jection to my opening this window for a moment? "

" Certainly not," said Tom.

" Very good," said Mr. Tigg, lifting the sash. " You see
a fellow down there it a red neckcloth and no waistcoat ? "

"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 waiting now, to see me home again. And for
that attention, sir," added Mr. Tigg, stroking his mustache,
" I can tell you, that Mark Tapley had better in his infancy
have been fed to suffocation by Mrs. Tapley, than preserved
to this time."

Mr. Pinch was not so dismayed by this terrible 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 I'om and Mr. Tigg had drawn in their heads and
closed the window again, he, the denounced, appeared before
them.

" Come here, Mark ! " said Mr. Pinch. " Good gracious

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 1 1

me ! what's the matter between Mrs. Lupin and this gentle-
man ? "

" What gentleman, sir ? " said Mark. " I don't see no
gentleman here, sir, excepting you and the new gentleman,"
to whom he made a rough kind of bow : " and there's nothing
wrong between Mrs. Lupin and either of you, Mr. ]*inch, I am
sure."

" Nonsense, Mark ! " cried Tom. " You see Mr. — "

" Tigg," interposed that gentleman. " Wait a bit. I shall
crush him soon. All in good time ! "

" Oh ///;«./" rejoined ALark, with an air of careless defi-
ance. "Yes, I see 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 upon the breast.

" It's no use," said Mark. " If you knock ever so much
in that quarter, you'll get no answer. I know better. There's
nothing there but padding : and a greasy sort it is."

" Nay, Mark," urged Mr. Pinch, interposing to prevent
hostilities, " tell me what I ask you. You're not out of tem-
per, I hope t "

" Out of temper, sir ! " cried Mark, with a grin ; " why no,
sir. There's a little credit — not much — 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 between him and Mrs. Lupin. And I think Airs. Lupin
lets him and his friend ofif very easy in not charging 'em
double prices for being a disgrace to the Dragon. That's my
opinion. I wouldn't have any such Peter the Wild Boy as
him in my house, sir, not if 1 was paid race-week prices for it.
He's enough to turn the very beer in the casks sour, with his
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 (hies the same. Tlu' running of
bills is common enough, Mr. I'inch ; it an't that as wc olqect
to ; it's the ways of this chajx Nothing's good enough for him ;
all the women is dying for him he thinks, and is over-paid if
he winks at 'em ; and all the men was made to be ordered

112 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

about by him. This not being aggravation enough, he says this
morning to me, in his usual captivating way, ' We're going to-
night, my man.' ' Are you, sir .'' ' says I. ' Perhaps you'd Ul^e the
bill got ready, sir .? ' ' Oh no, my man,' he 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 honor us so far, but as we don't know any par-
ticular good of you, and you don't travel with luggage, and
Mr. Pecksniff an't at home (which perhaps you mayn't happen
to be aware of, sir), we should prefer something more satis-
factory;' 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 disagreeable-looking chap or
not ! "

" Let me inquire," said Martin, interposing between this
candid speech 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 — I am ashamed to say — that this Mr. Slyme
is a relation of mine, of whom I never heard anything pleas-
ant ; and that I don't want him here just now, and think 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 his head to an extent that left no doubt of his
entire sincerity.

" That's unfortunate, for I am poor too ; and in case you
had had it, I'd have borrowed it of you. But if we told this
landlady we would see her paid, I suppose that would answer
the same purpose ? "

" Oh dear, yes ! " said Tom. " She knows me, bless you ! "

" Then, let us go down at once and tell her so ; for the
sooner we are rid of their company the better. As you have
conducted the conversation with this gentleman hitherto, per-
haps you'll tell him what we purpose doing; will you t "

Mr. Pinch complying, at once imparted the intelligence to
Mr. Tigg, who shook him warmly by the hand in return, assur-

MAH TIN CHUZZLE WTT 1 1 3

ing him that his faith in anything and everj'thing was again re-
stored. It was not so much, he said, for the temporary reUef
of this assistance that he prized it, as for its vindication of
the high principle that Nature's Nobs felt with Nature's Nobs,
and that true greatness of soul sympathized with true great-
ness of soul, all the world over. It proved to him, he said,
that like him they admired genius, even when it was coupled
with the alloy occasionally visible in the metal of his friend
Slyme ; and on behalf of that friend, he thanked them ; as
warmly and heartily as if the cause were his own. Being
cut short in these speeches by a general move towards the
stairs, he took possession at the street-door of the lapel of Mr.
Pinch's coat, as a security against further interruption ; and
entertained that gentleman with some highly improving dis-
course until they reached the 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. Tapley, who entertained a
constitutional 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 in hand thus easily settled, Mr. Pinch
and Martin would have withdrawn immediately, but for the
urgent entreaties of Mr. Tigg that they would allow him the
honor of presenting them to his friend Slyme, which were so
very difficult of resistance that, yiekhng partly to these per-
suasions and partly to their own curiosity, they suffered them-
selves to be ushered into the presence of that distinguished
gentleman.

He was brooding over the remains of yesterday's decanter
of brandy, and was engaged in the thoughtful occupation of
making a chain of rings on the top of the table with the wet
foot of his drinking-glass. Wretched and forlorn as he looked,
Mr. Slyme had once been, in his way, the choicest of swag-
gerers : putting forth his pretensions, boldly, as a man of in-
finite taste and most undoubted promise. The stock-in-trade
requisite to set up an amateur in this department of business
is very slight, and easily got together ; a trick of the nose and
a curl of the lip sufficient to compound a tolerable sneer, being
ample provision for any exigency. But, in an evil hour, this
off-shoot of the Chuzzlewit trunk, being lazy, and ill qualified

8

1 1 4 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

for any regular pursuit, and having dissipated such means as
he ever possessed, had formally established himself as a profes-
sor of Taste for a livelihood ; and iinding, too late, that some-
thing more than his old amount of qualificaiions was necessary
to sustain him in this calling, had quickly fallen to his present
level, where he retained nothing of his old self but his boast-
fulness and his bile, and seemed to have no existence separate
or apart from his friend Tigg. And now so abject and so
pitiful 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 the back, "my
friend Pecksniff not being at home, I have arranged our trifling
piece of business with Mr. Pinch and friend. Mr. Pinch and
friend, Mr. Chevy Slyme ! Chiv, Mr. Pinch and friend ! "

"These are agreeable circumstances in which to be intro-
duced to strangers," said Chevy Slyme, turning his bloodshot
eyes towards Tom Pinch. " I am the most miserable man in
the world, I believe ! "

Tom begged he wouldn't mention it ; and finding him in
this condition, retired, after an awkward pause, followed by
Martin. But Mr. Tigg so urgently conjured them, by coughs
and signs, to remain in the shadow of the door, that they
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 from his eyes, " that I
am the wretchedest creature on record. Society is in a con-
spiracy against me. I'm the most literary man alive. I'm
full of scholarship ; I'm full of genius ; I'm full of information ;
I'm full of novel views on every subject ; look at my condi-
tion ! 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 intimation to the visitors that they would
see him in a better aspect immediately.

" Obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill, eh ! " repeated
Mr. Slyme, after a sulky application to his glass. " Very
pretty ! And crowds of impostors, the while, becoming
famous ; men who are no more on a level with me than —
Tigg, I take you to witness that I am the most persecuted
hound on the face of the earth."

With a whine, not unlike the cry of the animal he named,

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 1 ^

in its lowest state of humiliation, he raised his glass to his
mouth again. He found some encouragement in it ; for when
he set it down, he laughed scornfully. Upon that Mr. Tigg
gesticulated to the visitors once more, and with great expres-
sion : implying that now the time was come when they would
see Chiv in his greatness.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Slyme. "Obliged to two
strangers for a tavern bill ! 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 tome of a good family, I believe ? Do
I, or do I not.' I'm not a man of common capacity or accom-
plishments, I think. Am I, or am I not ? "

" You are the American aloe of the human race, my dear
Chiv," said Mr. Tigg, " which only blooms once in a hundred
years ! "

" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Slyme, again. " Obliged to
two strangers for a tavern bill ! I ! Obliged' to two archi-
tect's apprentices. Fellows who measure earth with iron
chains, and build houses like bricklayers. Give me the names
of those two apprentices. How dare they oblige me ! "

Mr. Tigg was quite lost in admiration of this noble trait
in his friend's character ; as he made known to Mr. Pinch in
a neat little ballet of action, spontaneously invented for the
purpose.

" I"ll let 'em know, and I'll let all men know," cried Chevy
Slyme, " that I'm none of the mean, grovelling, tame charac-
ters they meet with commonly. I have an independent spirit.
I have a heart that swells in my bosom. I have a soul that
rises superior to base considerations."

" Oh Chiv, Chiv," murmured Mr. Tigg, "you have a nobly
independent nature, Chiv ! "

" You go aad do your duty, sir," said Mr. Slyme, angrily,
" and borrow money for travelling expenses ; and whoever you
borrow it of, let 'em know that I possess a haughty spirit, and
a proud spirit, and have infernally finely-touched chords in
my nature, which won't brook patronage. Do you hear 1
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 ! "

He might have added that he hated two sorts of men ; all
those who did him favors, 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. IJut he did not • for with

1 1 6 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

the apt closing words above recited, Mr. Slyme, of too
haughty a stomach to work, to beg, to borrow, or to steal ;
yet mean enough to be worked or borrowed, begged or stolen
for, by any catspaw that would serve his turn ; too insolent to
lick the hand that fed him in his need, yet cur enough to bite
and tear it in the dark ; with these apt closing words, Mr.
Slyme fell forward with his head upon the table, and so
declined into a sodden sleep.

" Was there ever," cried Mr. Tigg, joining the young men
at the door, and shutting it carefully behind him, " such an
independent spirit as is possessed by that extraordinary crea-
ture 1 Was there ever such a Roman as our friend Chiv ?
Was there ever a man of such a purely classical turn of
thought, and of such a toga-like simplicity of nature ? Was
there ever a man with such a flow of eloquence .'' Might he
not, gents both, I ask, have sat upon a tripod in the ancient
times, and prophesied to a perfectly unlimited extent, if pre-
viously supplied with gin-and-water at the public cost ? "

Mr. Pinch was about to contest this latter position with
his usual mildness, when, observing that his companion had
already gone down stairs, he prepared to follow him.

" You are not going, Mr. Pinch .-' " said Tigg.

" Thank you," answered Tom. " Yes. Don't come
down."

" Do you know that I should like one little word in private
with you, Mr. Pinch "i " said Tigg, following him. " One
minute of your company in the skittle-ground would very much
relieve my mind. Might I beseech that favor ? "

" Oh, certainly," replied Tom, " if you really wish it."
So he accompanied Mr. Tigg to the retreat in question ; on
arriving at which place that gentleman took from his hat what
seemed to be the fossil remains of an antediluvian pocket-
handkerchief, and wiped his eyes therewith.

" You have not beheld me this day," said Mr. Tigg, " in a
favorable light."

" Don't mention that," said Tom, " I beg."

" But you have nof" cried Tigg. " I must persist in that
opinion. If you could have seen me, Mr. Pinch, at the head
of my regiment on the coast of Africa, charging in the form
of a hollow square, with the women and children and the
regimental plate-chest in the centre, you would not have known
me for the same man. You would have respected me, sir."

Tom had certain ideas of liis own upon the subject of

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

117

glory ; and consequently he was not quite so much excited by
this picture as Mr. Tigg could have desired.

" But no matter ? " said that gentleman. " The school-boy
writing home to his parents and describing the milk-and-water,
said 'This is indeed weakness.' I repeat that assertion in
reference to myself at the present moment : and I ask your
pardon. Sir, you have seen my friend Slyme ? "

"No doubt," said Mr. Pinch.

" Sir, you have been impressed by my friend Slyme ? "

" Not very pleasantly, I must say," answered Tom, after a
little hesitation.

" I am grieved but not surprised," cried Mr. Tigg, detain-
ing him with both hands, " to hear that you have come to that
conclusion, for it is my own. But, Mr. Pinch, though I am
a rough and thoughtless man, I can honor Mind. I honor
Mind in following my friend. To you of all men, Mr. Pinch,
I have a right to make appeal on Mind's behalf, when it has
not the art to push its fortune in the world. And so, sir —
not for myself, who have no claim upon you, but for my
crushed, my sensitive and independent friend, who has — I ask
the loan of three half-crowns. I ask you for the loan of three
half-crowns, distinctly, and without a blush. I ask it, almost
as a right. And when I add that the)' will be returned by
post, this week, I feel that you will blame me for that sordid
stipulation."

Mr. Pinch took from his pocket an old-fashioned red-
leather purse with a steel clasp, whicli had probably once
belonged to his deceased grandmother. It held one half-
sovereign and no more. All Tom's worldly wealth until next
quarter-day.

" Stay ! " cried Mr. Tigg, who had watched this proceeding
keenly. " I was just about to say, that for the convenience
of posting you had better make it gold. Thank you. A
general direction, I suppose, to Mr. Pinch, at Mr. Pecksniff's,
will find you ? "

" That'll find me," said Tom. " You had better put
Esquire to Mr. Pecksniff's name, if you please. Direct to me,
you know, at Seth Pecksniff's, Esquire."

" At Seth Pecksniff's, Esquire," repeated Mr. Tigg, taking
an exact note of it with a stump of pencil. " We said this
week, I believe 1 "

" Yes : or Monday will do," obsen^ed Tom.

"No, no, I beg your pardon. Monday will not do " said

1 1 8 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Mr. Tigg. " If we stipulated for this week, Saturday is the
latest day. Did we stipulate for this week ? "

" Since you are so particular about it," said Tom, " I think
we did."

Mr. Tigg added this condition to his memorandum ; read
the entry over to himself with a severe frown ; and that the
transaction might be more correct and business-like, appended
his initials to the whole. That done, he assured Mr. Pinch
that everything was now perfectly regular ; and, after squeezing
his hand with great fervor, departed.

Tom entertained enough suspicion that Martin might pos-
sibly turn this interview into a jest, to render him desirous to
avoid the company of that young gentleman for the present.
With this view he took a few turns up and down the skittle-
ground, and did not re-enter the house until Mr. Tigg and his
friend had quitted it, and the new pupil and Mark were watch-
ing their departure from one of the windows.

"I was just a saying, sir, that if one could live by it," ob-
served Mark, pointing after their late guests, " that would be
the sort of service for me. Waiting on such individuals as
them, would be better than grave-digging, sir."

" And staying here would be better than either, Mark,"
replied Tom. " So take my advice, and continue to swim
easily in smooth 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."

" Off ! " cried Mr. Pinch, " where to ? "

" I shall go up to London, sir."

" What to be ? " asked Mr. Pinch.

" Well ! I don't know yet, sir. Nothing turned up that
day I opened my mind to you, as was at all likely to suit me.
All them trades I thought of 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 might come out rather too strong for a
serious family's taste, Mark."

" That's possible, sir. If I could get into a wicked family,
I might do myself justice ; but the difficulty is to make sure
of one's ground, because a young man can't very well adver-
tise 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, "I don't think he can."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

119

" An envious family," pursued Mark, with a thoughtful
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. The man as would have
suited me of all other men was that old gentleman as was took
ill here, for he really was a trying customer. Howsever, I
must wait and see what turns up, sir ; and hope for the worst."

" You are determined to go theft ? " said Mr. Pinch.

" My box is gone already, sir, by the wagon, and I'm going
to walk on to-morrow morning, and get a lift by the day coach
when it overtakes me. So I wish you good by'e, Mr. Pinch
— and you too, sir, — and all good luck and happiness ! "

They both returned his greeting laughingly, and walked
home arm-in-arm : Mr. Pinch imparting to his new friend,
as they went, suqIi further particulars of Mark Tapley's whim-
sical restlessness as the reader is already acquainted with.

In the meantime 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 tetc-a-tcte in
the bar, kept himself obstinately out of her way all the after-
noon and evening. In this piece of generalship he was very
much assisted by the great influx 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 healths and clinking of mugs. At length the house was
closed for the night ; and there being now no help for it, Mark
put the best face he could upon the matter, and walked dog-
gedly to the bar-door.

" If I look at her," said Mark to himself, " I'm done. I
feel 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 t " cried Mrs.
Lupin.

" Why, yes ; I am," said Mark, keeping his eyes hard upon
the floor.

" I thought," pursued the landlady, with a most engaging
hesitation, " that you had been — fond — 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

I20 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 question as this, propounded
in such a manner, at such a time, and by such a person, proved
(at least, as far as Mark's flesh 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 all the tight, plump, buxom, bright-eyed, dimple-faced
landladies that ever shone on earth, there stood before him,
then, bodily in that bar, the ver)' 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
Avaist — at which she was not at all alarmed, for she knew what
a good young man he was — "if I took what L liked most, 1
should take you. If I only thought 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. Tapley, shaking
his head, expressively enough, and looking (in a momentary
state of forgetfulness) rather hard at the hostess's ripe lips.
" And no man wouldn't wonder if I did ! "

Mrs. Lupin said he amazed her. She was astonished
how he could say such things. She had never thought it of
him.

" Why, I never thought it of myself till now ! " said Mark,
raising his eyebrows with a look of the merriest possible surprise.
" I always expected we should part, and never have no explana-
tion ; I meant to do it when I came in here just now ; but
there's something about you, as makes a man sensible. Then
let us have a word or two together, letting it be understood
beforehand," he added this in a grave tone, to prevent the
possibility of any mistake, " that I'm not a going to make no
love, 3'ou know."

There was for just one second a shade, though not by any
means a dark one, on the landlady's open brow. But it passed
off instantly, in a laugh that came from her very heart.

" Oh, very good ! " she said ; " if there is to be no love-
making, you had better take your arm away."

" Lord, why should I ! " cried Mark. " It's quite inno-
cent."

" Of course it's innocent," returned the hostess, " or I
shouldn't allow it."

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 2 1

" 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 Jiim say what he had
to say, and be quick about it. But he was an impudent fellow,
she added.

" Ha ! ha ! I almost think 1 am ! " cried Mark, '' though I
never thought so before. Why, I can say anything to-night ! "

" 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 the likely con-
sequence of us two being — "

" Oh nonsense ! " cried Mrs. Lupin. " Don't talk about
that any more." ,

"No, no, but it ain'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 humor, would be always on 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 chamed up to the Dragon door, and wanting
to break 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 credit-
able in me to be jolly where there's things a going on to make
one dismal. It may be a mistake of mine, you see, but nothing
short of tr}'ing how it acts, will set it right. Then an't it best
that 1 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 day of my death ! "

The hostess sat quite silent for a little time, but she
very soon put both her hands in Mark's and shook them
heartily.

" For you are a good man," she said, looking into his
face with a smile, which was rather serious for her. " And I
do believe have been a better friend to me to-night than ever
I have had in all my life."

122 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Oh ! as to that, you know," said Mark, " that's nonsense.
But love my heart alive ! " he added, looking at her in a sort
of rapture, " if you are that way disposed, what a lot of suita-
ble husbands there is as you may drive distracted ! "

She laughed again at this compliment ; and, once more
shaking him by both hands, and bidding him, if he should
ever want a friend, to remember her, turned gayly from the
little bar and up the Dragon staircase.

" Humming a tune as she goes," said Mark, listening, "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 ! "

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 : the boys, 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 street. " Hearty chaps them wheelwrights
— hurrah ! Here's the butcher's dog a-coming out of the
garden — down, old fellow ! And Mr. Pinch a-going to his
organ — good by'e, sir ! And the terrier-bitch from over the
way — hie, then lass ! And children enough to hand down
human natur to the latest posterity — good by'e, boys and
girls ! ■ There's some credit in it now. I'm a-coming out
strong at last. These are the circumstances that would try a
ordinar)' mind ; but I'm uncommon jolly. Not quite as jolly
as I could wish to be, but very near. Good by'e ! good
by'e ! "

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

123

CHAPTER VIII.

ACCOMPANIES MR. PECKSNIFF AND HIS CHARMING DAUGH-
TERS TO THE CITY OF LONDON ; AND RELATES WHAl
FELL OUT, UPON THEIR WAY THITHER.

When Mr. Pecksnifif and the two young ladies got into the
heavy coach at the end of the lane, they found it empty, which
was a great comfort ; particularly as the outside was quite
full and the passengers looked very frosty. For as Mr. Peck-
sniff justly observed — when he and his daughters had burrowed
their feet deep in the straw, wrapped themselves to the chin,
and pulled up both windows — it is always satisfactory to feel,
in keen weather, that many other people are not as warm as
you are. And this, he said, was quite natural, and a very
beautiful arrangement ; not confined to coaches, but extending
itself into many social ramifications. " For " (he observed),
" if every one were warm and well-fed, we should lose the
satisfaction of admiring the fortitude with which certain con-
ditions 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
eyes, as he shook his fist at a beggar who wanted to get up
behind, " is one of the holiest feelings of our common na-
ture."

His children heard with becoming reverence these moral
precepts from the lips of their father, and signified their ac-
quiescence in the same, by smiles. That he might the better
feed and cherish that sacred flame of gratitude in his breast,
Mr. Pecksniff remarked that he would trouble his eldest daugh-
ter, even in this early stage of their journey, for the brandy-
bottle. And from the narrow neck of that stone vessel, he
imbibed a copious refreshment.

" What are we ? " said Mr. Pecksniff, " but coaches .'' Some
of us are slow coaches " —

" Goodness, Pa ! " cried Charity.

' Some of us, I say," resumed her parent with increased
emphasis, " are slow coaches ; some of us are fast coaches.
Our passions are the horses ; and rampant animals too ! " —

124

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Really, Pa ! " cried both the daughters at once. " How
very unpleasant."

" And rampant animals too ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff,
with so much determination, that he may be said to ha\e ex-
hibited, at the moment, a sort of moral rampancy JTimself :
" and Virtue is the drag. We start from The Mother's Arms,
and we run to The Dust Shovel."

When he had said this, Mr. Pecksniff, being exhausted,
took some further refreshment. When he had done that, he
corked the bottle tight, with the air of a man who had effect-
ually corked the subject also ; and went to sleep for three
stages.

The tendency of mankind when it falls asleep in coaches,
is to wake up cross ; to find its legs in its way ; and its corns
an aggravation. Mr. Pecksniff not being exempt from the
common lot of humanity, found himself, at the end of his nap,
so decidedly the victim of these infirmities, that he had an
irresistable inclination to visit them upon his daughters ; which
he had already begun to do in the shape of divers random
kicks, and other unexpected motions of his shoes, when the
coach stopped, and after a short delay, the door was opened.

" Now mind," said a thin sharp voice in the dark. " I and
my son go inside, because the roof is full, but you agree only
to charge us outside prices. It's quite understood that we
won't pay more. Is it .-• "

" AH right, sir," replied the guard.

" Is there anybody inside now ? " inquired the voice

' Three passengers," returned the guard.

" Then I ask the three passengers to witness this bargain,
if they will be so good," said the voice. " My boy, I think we
may safely get in."

In pursuance of which opinion, two people took their seats
in the vehicle, which was solemnly licensed by Act of Parlia-
ment to carry any six persons who could be got in at the door.

" That was lucky ! " whispered the old man, when they
moved on again. " And a great stroke of policy in you to
observe it. He, he, he ! We couldn't have gone outside. I
should have died of the rheumatism ! "

Whether it occurred to the dutiful son that he had in some
degree over-reached himself by contributing to the prolongation
of his father's days ; or whether the cold had affected his tem-
per ; is doubtful. But he gave his father such a nudge in
reply, that that good old gentleman was taken with a cough

MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

125

which lasted for full five minutes, without intermission, and
goaded Mr. Pecksniff to that pitch of irritation, that he said
at last, and very suddenly :

" There is no room ! There is really no room in this coach
for any gentleman with a cold in his head ! "

" Mine," said the old man, after a moment's pause, " is
upon my chest, Pecksniff."

The voice and manner, together, now that he spoke out ;
the composure of the speaker ; the presence of his son ; and
his knowledge of Mr. Pecksniff ; afforded a clue to his identity
which it was impossible to mistake.

" Hem ! I thought," said Mr. Pecksniff, returning to his
usual mildness, " that I addressed a stranger. I find that I
address a relative. Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son Mr.
Jonas — for they, my dear children, are our travelling com-
panions— will excuse me for an apparently harsh remark. It
is not my desire to wound the feelings of any person with
whom I am connected in family bonds. I may be a Hypo-
crite," said Mr. Pecksniff, cuttingly, "but I am not a Brute."

" Pooh, pooh ! " said the old man. "What signifies that
word, Pecksniff ? Hypocrite ! why, we are all hypocrites. We
Avere all hypocrites t'other day. I am sure I felt that to be
agreed upon among us, or I shouldn't have called you one.
We should not have been there at all, if we had not been
hypocrites. The only diiference between you and the rest was
— shall I tell you the difference between you and the rest now,
Pecksniff ? "

" If you please, my good sir ; if you please."

" Why, the annoying quality m you, is," said the old man,
" that you never have a confederate or partner in j'c;/^r juggling ;
you would deceive everybody, even those who practise the
same art ; and have a way with you, as if you — -he, he, he ! — as if
yo'.i really believed yourself. I'd lay a handsome wager now,"
said the old man, " if I laid wagers, w'hich I don't and never
did, that you keep up appearances by a tacit understanding,
even before your own daughters here. Now I, when I have
a business scheme in hand, tell Jonas what it is, and we discuss
it openly. You're not offended, Pecksniff? "

" Offended, my good sir ! " cried that gentleman, as if he
had received the highest compliments that language could
con\ey.

" Are you travelling to London, Mr. Pecksniff .'' " asked the
son.

126 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"Yes, Mr. Jonas, we are travelling to London. We shall
have the pleasure of your company all the way, I trust.-"'

"Oh ! ecod, you had better ask father that," said Jonas,
" I am not a going to commit myself."

Mr. PecksniiT was, as a matter of course, greatly entertained
by this retort. His mirth having subsided, Mr. Jonas gave
him to understand that himself and parent were in fact travel-
ling to their home in the metropolis : and that, since the
memorable day of the great family gathering, they had been
tarrying in that part of the countr};, watching the sale of certain
eligible investments, which they had had in their copartnership
eye when they came down ; for it was their custom, Mr. Jonas
said, whenever such a thing was practicable, to kill two birds
with one stone, and never to throw away sprats, but as bait for
whales. When he had communicated, to Mr. Pecksniff, these
pithy scraps of intelligence, he said, " That if it was all the
same to him, he would turn him over to father, and have a
chat with the gals ;" and in furtherance of this polite scheme,
he vacated his seat adjoining that gentleman, and established
himself in the opposite corner, next to the fair Miss Mercy.

The education of Mr. Jonas had been conducted from his
cradle on the strictest principles of the main chance. The
very first word he learnt to spell v/as "gain," and the second
(when he got into two syllables), " money." But for two
results, which were not clearly foreseen perhaps by his watch-
ful parent in the beginning, his training may be said to have
been unexceptionable. One of these flaws was, that having
been long taught by his father to over-reach everybody, he had
imperceptibly acquired a love of over-reaching that venerable
monitor himself. The other, that from his early habits of
considering everything as a question of property, he had
gradually come to look, with impatience, on his parent as a
certain amount of personal estate, which had no right what-
ever to be going at large, but ought to be secured in that par-
ticular description of iron safe which is commonly called a
coffin, and banked in the grave.

" Well, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas : " Because we are cousins,
you know, a few times removed : so you're going to London ? "

Miss Mercy replied in the affirmative, pinching her sister's
arm at the same time, and giggling excessively.

" Lots of beaux in London, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas,
slightly advancing his elbow.

" Indeed, sir ! " cried the young lady. " They won't hurt

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 127

US, sir, I dare say." And having given him this answer viith
great demureness, she was so overcome by her own liumor,
that she was fain to stifle her merriment in her sister's shawl.
" Merry," cried that more prudent damsel, " really I am
ashamed of you. How can you go on so ? You wild thing ! "
At which Miss Merry only laughed the more, of course.

" I saw a wildness in her eye, t'other day," said Mr. Jonas,
addressing Charity. " But you're the one to sit solemn ! I
say ! You were regularly prim, cousin ! "

" Oh ! The old-fashioned fright ! " cried Merry, in a whisper.
" Cherry, my dear, upon my word you must sit next him. I
shall die outright if he talks to me any more ; I shall, posi-
tively ! " To prevent which fatal consequence, the buoyant
creature skipped out of her seat as she spoke, and squeezed
her sister into the- place from which she had risen.

" Don't mind crowding me," cried Mr. Jonas. " I like to
be crowded by gals. Come a little closer, cousin."

"No, thank you, sir," said Charity.

" There's that other one a laughing again," said Mr. Jonas;
" she's a laughing at my father, I shouldn't wonder. If he puts
on that old flannel nightcap of his, I don't know what she'll
do ! Is that my father a snoring, Pecksniff ? "

" Yes, Mr. Jonas."

" Tread upon his foot, will you be so good ? " said the
young gentleman. " The foot next you's the gouty one."

Mr. Pecksniff hesitating to perform this friendly office,
Mr. 'Jonas did it himself ; at the same time crying :

" Come, wake up, father, or you'll be having the night-
mare, and screeching out, / know. — Do you ever have the
nightmare, cousin ? " he asked his neighbor, with character-
istic gallantry, as he dropped his voice again.

""Sometimes," answered Charity. " Not often."

"The other one," said Mr. Jonas, after a pause. " Does
she ever have the nightmare .-' "

"I don't know," replied Charity. "You had better ask
her."

" She laughs so," said Jonas, " there's no talking to her.
Only hark how she's a going on now ! You're the sensible
one, cousin ! "

" Tut, tut 1 " cried Charity.

" Oh ! But you are ! You know you are ! "

" Mercy is a little giddy," said Miss Charity. " But she'll
sober down in time."

128 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" It'll be a very long time, then, if she does at all, ' re-
joined her cousin. " Take a little more room."

" T am afraid of crowding you," said Charity. But she
took it notwithstanding ; and after one or two remarks on the
extreme heaviness of the coach, and the number of places it
stopped at, they fell into a silence which remained unbroken
by any member of the party until supper-time.

Although Mr. Jonas conducted Charity to the hotel and
sat himself beside her at the board, it was pretty clear that he
had an eye to " the other one " also, for he often glanced
across at Mercy, and seemed to draw comparisons between the
personal appearance of the two, which were not unfavorable
to the superior plumpness of the younger sister. He allowed
himself no great leisure for this kind of observation, however,
being busily engaged with the supper, which, as he whispered
in his fair companion's ear, was a contract business, and
therefore the more she ate, the better the bargain was. His
father and Mr. Pecksniff, probably acting on the same wise
principle, demolished everything that came within their reach,
and by that means acquired a greasy expression of counte-
nance, indicating contentment, if not repletion, which it was
veiy pleasant to contemplate.

When they could eat no more, Mr. Pecksniff and Mr.
Jonas subscribed for two sixpenny-worths of hot brandy-and-
water, which the latter gentleman considered a more politic
order than one shilling's-worth ; there being a chance of their
getting more spirit out of the innkeeper under this arrange-
ment than if it were all in one glass. Having swallowed his
share of the enlivening fluid, Mr. Pecksniff, under pretence of
going to see if the coach were ready, went secretly to the bar,
and had his own little bottle filled, in order that he might re-
fresh himself at leisure in the dark coach without being ob-
served.

These arrangements concluded, and the coach being ready,
they got into their old places and jogged on again. But before
he composed himself for a nap, Mr. Pecksniff delivered a kind
of grace after meat, in these words :

" The process of digestion, as I have been informed by
anatomical friends, is one of the most wonderful works of
nature. I do not know how it may be with others, but it is a
great satisfaction to me to know, when regaling on my humble
fare, that I am putting in motion the most beautiful machinery
with which we have any acquaintance. I really feel at such

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

129

times as if I was doing a public service. When I have wound
myself up, if I may employ such a term," said Mr. Pecksniff
with exquisite tenderness, " and know that I am Going, I feel
that in the lesson afforded by the works within me, I am a
Benefactor to my Kind ! "

As nothing could be added to this, nothing was said ; and
Mr. Pecksniff, exulting, it may be presumed, 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 oppo-
site corners of the coach and strangely tattooed the surface 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 canfe and went and came again, with scarcely any
interval between each team as it seemed to those w^ho were
dozing, and with a gap of a whole night between every one as
it seemed to those who were broad awake. At length they
began to jolt and rumble over horribly uneven stones, and
Mr. Pecksniff 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 which it was situated was already in a
bustle, that fully bore out Mr. Pecksniff's words about its
being morning, though for any signs of day yet appearing in
the sky it might have been midnight. There was a dense fog
too : as if it were a city in the clouds, which they had been
travelling to all night up a magic beanstalk ; and there was a
thick crust upon the pavement like oil-cake : which, one of the
outsides (mad, no doubt) said to another (his keeper, of
course), was Snow.

Taking a confused leave of Anthony and his son, and
leaving the luggage of himself and daugliters at the office to
be called 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 the
strangest allevs and under the blindest archwavs, in a kind of
frenzy : now skipping over a kennel, now running for his life
from a coach and horses ; now thinking he had lost his way,
now thinking he had found it ; now in a state of the highest
confidence, now despondent to the last degree, but always in
a great perspiration and flurry ; until at length they stopped

9

130 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT.

in a kind of paved yard near the Monument. That is to say,
Mr. Pecksniff told them so ;for as to anything they could see
of the Monument, or anything else but the buildings close at
hand, they might as well have been playing blindman's buff
at Salisbury.

Mr. Pecksniff looked about him for a moment, and then
knocked at the door of a very dingy edifice, even among the
choice collection of dingy edifices at hand ; on the front of
which was a little oval board like a tea-tray, with this inscrip-
tion: " Commercial Boarding-House. M. 'i'odgers."

It seemed that M. Todgers was not up yet, for Mr. Peck-
sniff knocked twice and rang thrice, without making any im-
pression on anything but a dog over the way. At last a chain
and some bolts were withdrawn with a rusty noise, as if the
weather had made the very fastenings 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 the nose just mentioned with the back of a
shoe-brush, and said nothing.

" Still a-bed, my man ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff.

" Still 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. 1 thought you was the Paper, and wondered why
you didn'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 some-
thing 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 in the meanwhile into a
room where there was a fire.

" Or if there's one in the eating parlor," said Mr. Peck-
sniff, " I can't find it myself." So he led his daughters, with-
out waiting for any further introduction, into a room on the
ground floor, where a tablecloth (rather a tight and scanty fit
in reference to the table it covered) w'as already spread for break-
fast : displaying a mighty dish of pink boiled beef ; an instance
of that particular style of loaf which is known to housekeepers
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 cleaned and turned with the soles
upwards to dry ; and a pair of short black gaiters, on one of

MAKThX CIIUZZLEIVIT. 131

which was chalked — in sport, it would appear, by some gentle-
man who had slipped down for the purpose, pending his toilet,
and gone up again — "Jinkins'o Particular," while the other
exhibited a sketch in jDrotile, claiming to be the portrait of
Jinkins himself.

M. Todgers's Commercial Boarding-House was a house of
that sort which is likely to be dark at any time ; but that morn-
ing it was especially dark. There was an odd smell m the pas-
sage, as if the concentrated essence of all the dinners that had
been cooked in the kitchen since the house was built, lingered
at the top of the kitchen stairs to that hour, and, like the
Black Friar in Don Juan, "wouldn't be driven away." In
particular, 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 parlor was wainscoted,
and communicated to strangers a magnetic and instin':ti\e
consciousness of rats and mice. The staircase was very
gloomy and very broad, with balustrades so thick and heavy
that they would have served for a bridge. In a sombre cor-
ner of the first landing, stood a gruff old giant of a clock,
with a preposterous coronet of three bras.-, balls on his 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 heedless people from running into him accidentally. It
had not been papered orpaiiited. hadn't Todgers's, within the
memory of man. It was verj^ black, begrimed, and mouldy.
And, at the top of the staircase, was an old, disjointed, rick-
ety, ill-favored skylight, patched and mended in all kinds of
ways, which looked distrustfully down at everything that
passed below, and covered Todgers's up as if it were a sort of
human cucumber-frame, and only people of a peculiar grow'th
were reared there.

Mr. Pecksniff and his fair daughters had not stood warm-
ing 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.

M. Todgers was a lady, rather a bony and hard-featured
lady, with a row of curls in front of her head, shaped like lit-
tle barrels of beer ; and on the top of it something made of
net — \-ou couldn't call it a cap exactly — winch liuiked like a
black coljweb. 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 flaming tallow candle, which, after surveying Mr.

132 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Pecksniff 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. Pecksniff ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, " Welcome 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 are younger than you
used to be ! "

" Vou are, I am sure ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " You're not
a bit changed."

" What do you say to this ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff, stretch-
ing out his hand towards the youiig ladies. " Does this make
me no older? "

"Not your daughters !" exclaimed the lady, raising her
hands and clasping them. " Oh, no, Mr. Pecksniff ! Your
second, and her bridesmaid ! "

Mr. Pecksniff smiled complacently ; shook his head ; and
said, "My daughters, Mrs. Todgers. Merely my daughters."

" Ah ! " sighed the good lady, " I must believe you, 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 ! "

She hugged them both ; and being by this time overpow-
ered by her feelings or the inclemency of the morning, jerked
a little pocket handkerchief out of the little basket, and applied
the same to her face.

" Now, my good madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, " I know
the rules of your establishment, and that you only receive
gentlemen boarders. But it occurred to me, when I left home,
that perhaps you would give my daughters house-room, and
make an exception in their favor."

" Perhaps ? " cried Mrs. Todgers ecstatically. " Perhaps ? "

" I may say then, that I was sure you would," said Mr.
Pecksniff. " I know that you have a little room of your own,
and that they can be comfortable there without appearing at
the general table."

" Dear girls ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " I must take that lib-
erty once more."

Mrs. Todgers meant by this that she must embrace them
once more, which she accordingly did, with great ardor.
But the truth was. that the house being full with the excep-
tion of one bed, which would now be occupied by Mr, Peck-

MA R TIN cm 'ZZL ElV/T.

nz

sniff, she wanted time for consideration ; and so 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
moments gazing at tlie sisters, with affection beaming in one
eye, and calculation shining out of the other.

" I think I know how to arrange it," said Mrs. Todgers,
at length. " A sofa bedstead in the little third room which
opens from my own parlor — Oh, you dear girls ! "

Thereupon she embraced them once more, observing that she
could not decide which was most like their poor mother (which
was highly probable : seeing that she had never beheld that
lady), but that she rather thought the youngest 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, the back parlor ; and
had, as Mrs. Todgers said, the great advantage (in London) of
not being overlooked; as they would see when the fog cleared
off. Nor was this a vain-glorious boast, for it commanded
at a perspective of two feet, a brown wall with a black cistern
on the top. The sleeping apartment designed for the young
ladies was approached from this chamber by a mightily con-
venient little door, which could 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 cis-
tern. " Not the damp side," said Mrs. Todgers. " 77ial is
Mr. Jinkins's."'

In the first of these sanctuaries a fire was speedily kindled
by the youthful porter, who, whistling at his work in the ab-
sence of Mrs. Todgers (not to mention his sketching figures
on his corduroys with burnt firewoodj, and being afterwards
taken by that lady in the fact, was dismissed with a box on his
ears. Having prepared breakfast for the young ladies with her
own hands, she withdrew to preside in the other room ; where
the joke at Mr. Jinkins's expense, seemed to be proceedmg
rather noisily,

" I won't ask you yet my dears," said Mr Pecksniff, look-
ing in at the door, " how you like London. Shall I .-■ "

" We haven't seen much of it. Pa ! " cried Merry.

" Nothing, I hope," said ("herry. (Both very miserably.)

" Indeed,'" said Mr, Pecksniff", " that's true. W'c have
our pleasure, and our business too, before us. All in good
time. All in good time ! "

134 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Whether Mr Pecksniff's business in London was as strictly
professional as he had given his new pupil to understand, we
shall see, to adopt that worthy man's phraseology-, " all in
good time."

CHAPTER IX.

TOWN AND TODGERS'S.

Surely there never was, in any other borough, or city,
or hamlet in the world, such a singular sort of place as Tocl-
gers's. And surely London, to judge from that part of it which
hemmed Todgers's round, and hustled it, and crushed it, and
stuck its brick-and-mortar elbows into it, and kept the air from
it, and stood perpetually between it and the light, was worthy
of Todgers's, and qualified to be on terms of close relationship
and alliance with hundreds and thousands of the odd family to
which Todgers's belonged.

You couldn't walk about in Todgers's neighborhood, as
you could in any other neighborhood. You groped your way
for an hour through lanes and bye-ways, and court-yards, and
passages ; and you never once emerged upon anything that
might be reasonably called a street. A kind of resigned dis-
traction came o\er the stranger as he trod those devious
mazes, and, gi\ing himself up for lost, went in and out and
round about and quietly turned back again when he came to
a dead wall or was stopped by an iron railing, and felt that
the means of escape might possibly present themselves in their
own good time, but that to anticipate them was hopeless. In-
stances were known of people who, being asked to dine at
Todgers's had travelled round and round for a weary time,
with its very chimney-pots in view ; and finding it, at Wst,
impossible of attainment, had gone home again with a gentle
melancholy on their spirits, tranquil and uncomplaining.
Nobody had ever found Todgers's on a verbal direction, though
given within a minute's walk of it. Cautious emigrants from
Scotland or the North 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

MAR TIX CHUZZL E WIT.

135

the rule that Toclgers's was in a labyrinth, whereof the mys-
tery 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 oranges— of damaged oranges, with blue and green
bruises on them, festering in boxes or moulding away in
cellars. All day long, a stream of porters from wharves beside
the river, each bearing on his back a bursting chest of oranges,
poured slowly through the narrow passages ; while underneath
the archway by the public-house, the knots of those who
rested and regaled within, were piled from morning until night.
Strange solitary pumps were found near Todgers's hiding them-
selves for the most part in blind alleys, and keeping company
with fire-ladders. There were churches also by dozens, with
many a ghostly little churchyard, all overgrown with such
straggling vegetafion as springs up spontaneously from damp,
and graves, and rubbish. In some of these dingy resting-
places, which bore much the same analogy to green church-
yards, as the pots of earth for mignonette and wall-flower in
the windows overlooking them, did to rustic gardens, there
were trees ; tall trees ; still putting forth their leaves in each
succeeding year, with such a languishing remembrance of their
kind (so one might fancy, looking on their sickly boughs)
as birds in cages have of theirs. Here, paralyzed old watch-
men guarded the bodies of the dead at night year after year,
until at last they joined that solemn brotherhood ; and, saving
that they slept below the ground a sounder sleep than e\en
they had ever known above it, and were shut up in another
kind of box, their condition can hardly be said to have under-
gone any material change when they in turn were watched
themselves.

Among the narrow thoroughfares at hand, there lingered,
here and there, an ancient doorway of carved oak, from which,
of old, the sounds of revelry and feasting often came ; but
now these mansions, only used for storehouses, were dark and
dull, and, being filled with wool, and cotton, and the like —
such heavy merchandise as stifles sound and stops the throat
of echo — had an air of palpable deadness about them which,
added to their silence and desertion, made them ver}' grim. In
like manner,, there were gloomy court-yards in these parts,
into which few but belated wayfarers ever strayed, and where
vast bags and packs of goods, upward or downward bound,
were for ever dangling between heaven and earth from lofty

I •; 6 MA R TLV CHUZZLE WIT.

cranes. There were more trucks near Todgers's than you
would suppose a whole city could ever need ; not active trucks,
but a vagabond race, for ever lounging in the narrow lanes be-
fore their masters' doors and stopping up the pass ; so that when
a stray hackney-coach or lumbering wagon came that way,
they were the cause of such an uproar as enlivened the whole
neighborhood, and made the bells in the next church-tower
vibrate again. In the throats and maws of dark no-thorough-
fares near Todgers's, individual wine-merchants and wholesale
dealers in grocery-ware had perfect little towns of their own ;
and, deep among the foundations of these buildings, the ground
was undermined and burrowed out into stables, where cart-
horses, troubled by rats, might be heard on a quiet Sunday
rattling their halters, as disturbed spirits in tales of haunted
houses are said to clank their chains.

To tell of half the queer old taverns that had a drowsy and
secret existence near Todgers's would fill a goodly book ; while
a second volume no less capacious might be devoted to an
account of the quaint old guests who frequent their dimly-
lighted parlors. These were, in general, ancient inhabitants
of that region ; born, and bred there from boyhood ; who had
long since become wheezy and asthmatical, and short of breath
except in the article of story-telling, in which respect they
were still marvellously long-winded. These gentry were much
opposed to steam and all new-fangled ways, and held ballooning
to be sinful, and deplored the degeneracy of the times ; which
that particular member of each little club who kept the keys
of the nearest church professionally, always attributed to the
prevalence of dissent and irreligion : though the major part
of the company inclined to the belief that virtue went out
with hair-powder, and that Old England's greatness had de-
cayed amain with barbers.

As to Todgers's itself — speaking of it only as a house in
that neighborhood, and making no reference to its merits as a
commercial boarding establishment — it was worthy to stand
where it did. There was one staircase-window in it at the
side of the house, on the ground-floor, which tradition said
had not been opened for a hundred years at least, and which,
abutting on an always dirty lane, was so begrimed and coated
with a century's mud, that no one pane of glass could jjossibly
fall out, though all were cracked and broken twenty times.
But the grand mystery of Tor'ger's was the cellarage, approach-
able only by a little back door and a rusty grating, which

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT.

137

cellarage within the memory of man had liad no connection with
the house, but had always been the freehold property of some-
body else, and was reported to be full of wealth : though in
what shape — whether in silver, brass, or gold, or butts of wine,
or casks of gunpowder — was a matter of profound uncertainty
and supreme indifference to Todgers's, and all its mmates.

The top of the house was worthy of notice. There was
a sort of terrace on the roof, with posts and fragments of rotten
lines, once intended to dry clothes upon ; and there were two
or three tea-chests out there, full of earth, with forgotten plants
in them, like old-walking-sticks. Whoever climbed to the ob-
servatory, was stunned at first from having knocked his head
against the little door in coming out ; and after that, was for
the moment choked from having looked, perforce, straight
down the kitcheA chimney ; but these two stages over, there
were things to gaze at from the top of Todgers's, well worth
your seeing too. For first and foremost, if the day were bright,
ypu observed upon the house-tops, stretching far away, a long
dark path — the shadow of the Monument — and turning round,
the tall original was close beside you, with eveiy hair erect
upon his golden head, as if the doings of the city frightened
him. Then there were steeples, towers, belfries, shining vanes,
and masts of ships — a very forest. Gables, housetops, garret-
windows, wilderness upon wilderness. Smoke and noise
enough for all the world at once.

After the first glance, there were slight features in the
midst of this crowd of objects, which sprung out from the
mass without any reason, as it were, and took hold of the at-
tention whether the spectator would or no. Thus, the revol-
ving chimney-pots on one great stack of buildings, seemed to
be turning gravely to each other every now and then, and
whispering the result of their separate observation of what
was going on below. Others, of a crook-backed shape, ap-
peared to be maliciously holding themselves askew, that they
might shut the prospect out and bafilie Todgers's. The man
wno was mending a pen at an upper window over the way,
became of paramount importance in the scene, and made a
blank in it, ridiculously disproportionate in its extent, when
he retired. The gambols of a piece of cloth upon the dyer's
pole had far more interest for the moment than all the chang-
ing motion of the crowd. Yet even while the looker-on felt
angry with himself for this, and wondered how it was, the
tumult swelled into a roar ; the hosts of objects seemed to

138

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

thicken and expand a hundred-fold ; and after gazing round
him, quite scared, he turned into Todgers's again, much more
rapidly than he came out ; and ten to one he told M. Todgers
afterwards tliat if he hadn't done so, he would certainly have
come into the street by the shortest cut — that is to say, head-
foremost.

So said the two Miss Pecksniffs, when they retired with
Mrs. Todgers from this place of espial, leaving the youthful
porter to close the door and follow them down stairs \ who
being of a playful temperament, and contemplating with a de-
light peculiar to his sex and time of life, any chance of dash-
ing himself into small fragments, lingered behind to walk upon
the parapet.

It being the second day of their stay in London, the Miss
Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers were by this time highly confi-
dential, insomuch that the last-named lady had already com-
municated the particulars of three early disappointments of a
tender nature ; and had furthermore possessed her young
friends with a general summary of the life, conduct, and char-
acter of Mr. Todgers. Who, it seemed, had cut his matri-
monial career rather short, by unlawfully running away from
his happiness, and establishing himself in foreign countries as
a bachelor.

" Your pa was once a little particular in his attentions, my
dears," said Mrs. Todgers : " but to be your ma was too much
happiness denied me. You'd hardly know who this was done
for, perhaps ? "

She called theirattention to an oval miniature, like a little
blister, which was tacked up over the kettle-holder, and in
which there was a dreamy shadowing forth of her own visage.

" It's a speaking likeness ! " cried the two Miss Pecksniffs.

" It was considered so once," said Mrs. Todgers warming
herself in a gentlemanly manner at the fire: "but I hardly
thought you would have known it, my loves."

They would have known it anywhere. If they could have
met with it in the street, or seen it in a shop window, they
would have cried : " Good gracious ! Mrs. Todgers ! "

" Presiding over an establishment like this, makes sad
havoc with the features, my dear Miss Pecksniffs," said Mrs.
Todgers. " The gravy alone, is enough to add twenty years
to one's age, I do assure you."

" Lor ! " cried tiie two Miss Pecksniffs.

"The anxiety of that one item, my dears," said Mrs. Tod-

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 13^

gers, " keeps the mind continually upon the stretch. There
is no such passion in human nature, as the passion »for gravy
among commercial gentlemen. It's nothing to say a joint
won't yield — a whole animal wouldn't yield— the amount of
gravy they expect each day at dinner. And what I have un-
dergone in consequence," cried Mrs. Todgers, raising her
eyes and shaking her head, "no one would believe ! "

" Just like Mr. Pinch, Merry ! " said Charity. "We have
always noticed it in him, you remember } "

" Yes, my dear," giggled Merry, " but we have ne\'er given
it him, you know."

"You, my dears, having to deal with your pa's pupils who
can't help themselves, are able to take your own way," said
Mrs. Todgers, " but in a commercial establishment, where any
gentleman may say, any Saturday evening, ' Mrs. Todgers,
this day week we'^part, in consequence of the cheese,' it is not
so easy to preserve a pleasant understanding. Your pa was
kind enough," added the good lady, " to invite me to take a
ride with you to-day ; and I think he mentioned that you
were going to call upon Miss Pinch. Any relation to the gen-
tleman you were speaking of just now, Miss Pecksniff ? "

" For goodness sake, Mrs. Todgers," interposed the lively
Merry, " don't call him a gentleman. My dear Cherry, Pinch
a. gentleman ! The idea. "

" What a wicked girl you are ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, em-
bracing her with great affection. " You are quite a quiz 1 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. Tod-
gers, in existence," resumed Merry: "quite an ogre. The
ugliest, awkwardest, frightfullest being, you can imagine. This
is his sister, so 1 leave you to suppose what she is. 1 shall be
obliged to laugh outright, 1 know I shall ! " cried the charm-
ing girl, " I never shall be able to keep my countenance. The
notion of a Miss Pinch presuming to exist at all is sufficient
to kill one, but to see her — oh my stars ! "

Mrs. Todgers laughed immensely at the dear love's humor,
and declared she was quite afraid of her, that she was. She
was so very severe.

" Who is severe ? " cried a \oice at the door. " There is
no such thing as severity in our family, I hope ! " And then
Mr. Pecksniff peeped smilingly into the room, and said, " May
I come in, Mrs. Todgers .'' "

1 40 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Mrs. 'iTodgers almost screamed, for the little door of com-
munication 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 confusion, " Oh yes, Mr. Peck-
sniff, you can come in, if you please."

" How are we to-day," said Mr. Pecksniff, jocosely ; "and
what are our plans ? Are we ready to go and see Tom
Pinch's sister? Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Thomas Pinch ! "

" Are we ready," returned Mrs. Todgers, nodding her
head with mysterious intelligence, " to send a favorable reply
to Mr. Jinkins's round-robin? That's the first question, Mr.
Pecksniff."

" Why Mr. Jinkins's robin, my dear madam ?" asked Mr.
Pecksniff, putting one arm round Mercy, and the other round
Mrs. Todgers, whom he seemed, in the abstraction of the
moment, to mistake for Charity. " Why Mr. Jinkins's? "

" Because he began to get it up, and indeed always takes
the lead in the house," said Mrs. Todgers, playfully. " That's
why, sir."

" Jinkins is a man of superior talents," observed Mr.
Pecksniff. " I have conceived a great regard for Jinkins. I
take Jinkins's desire to pay polite attention to my daughters,
as an additional proof of the friendly feeling of Jinkins, Mrs.
Todgers."

" Well now," returned that lady, " having said so much,
you must say the rest, Mr. Pecksniff : so tell the dear young
ladies all about it."

With these words, she gently eluded Mr. Pecksniff's grasp,
and took Miss Charity into her own embrace ; though whether
she was impelled to this proceeding solely by the irrepressible
affection she had conceived for that young lady, or whether it
had any reference to a lowering, not to say distinctly spiteful
expression which had been visible in her face for some
moments, has never been exactly ascertained. Be this as it
may, Mr. Pecksniff went on to inform his daughters of the
purport and history of the round-robin aforesaid, which was
in brief, that the commercial gentlemen who helped to make
?ip the sum and substance of that noun of multitude or signify-
ing many, called Todgers's, desired the honor of their pres-
ence at the general table, so long as they remained in the
house, and besought that they would grace the board at dinner-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 141

time next clay, the same being Sunday. He furtlier said, that
Mrs. Todgers being a consenting party to this invitation, he
was wilUng, for this part, to accept it ; and so left them that
he might write his gracious answer, the while they armed
themselves with their best bonnets for the utter defeat and
overthrow of Miss Pinch.

Tom Pinch's sister was governess in a family, a lofty
family ; perhaps the wealthiest brass and copper founders'
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 admira-
tion ; and a great lodge ; which being close to the house,
rather spoilt the Jook-out certainly, but made the look-in tre-
mendous. At this entr)', 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 per-
petually entangling and hooking himself among the chairs 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, dro\e gallantly in a one-horse
fly The foregoing ceremonies 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 instructing her eldest pupil :
to wit, a premature little woman of thirteen years old, who
had already arrived at such a pitch of whalebone and educa-
tion that she had nothing girlish about her, which was a
source of great rejoicing to all her relations and friends.

" Visitors for Miss Pinch !" said the footman. He must
have been an ingenious young man, for he said it very cleverly,
with a nice discrimination between the cold respect with
which he would have announced visitors to the family, and
the warm personal interest with which he would have an-
nounced visitors to the cook.

" Visitors for Miss Pinch ! "

Miss Pinch rose hastily, with such tokens or agitation as
plainly declared that her list of callers was not numerous.

142

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

At the same time, the Uttle pupil became alarmingly upright,
and prepared herself to take mental notes of all that might be
said and done. For the lady of the establishment was curious
in the natural history and habits of the animal called Gover-
ness, and encouraged her daughters to report thereon when-
ever occasion served ; which was, in reference to all parties
concerned, very laudable, improving, and pleasant.

It is a melancholy fact ; but it must be related, that Mr.
Pinch's sister was not at all ugly. On the contrary, she had
a good face, a very mild and prepossessing face, and ?.
pretty little figure — slight and short, but remarkable for its
neatness. There was something of her brother, much of him
indeed, in a certain gentleness of manner, and in her look of
timid trustfulness \ but she was so far from being a fright, or
a dowdy, or a horror, or anything else, predicted by the two
Miss Pecksniffs, that those young ladies naturally regarded
her with great indignation, feeling that this was by no means
what they had come to see.

Miss Mercy, as having the larger share of gayety, bore up
the best against this disappointment, and carried it off, in
outward show at least, with a titter ; but her sister, not caring
to hide her disdain, expressed it pretty openly in her looks.
As to Mrs. Todgers, she leaned on Mr. Pecksniff's arm and
preserved a kind of genteel grimness, suitable to any state of
mind, and involving any shade of opinion.

" Don't be alanned, Miss Pinch," said Mr. Pecksniff,
taking her hand condescendingly in one of his, and patting it
with the other. " I have called to see you, in pursuance of a
promise given to your brother, Thomas Pinch. My name —
compose yourself. Miss Pinch — is Pecksniff."

The good man emphasized these words as though he would
have said, " You see in me, young person, the benefactor of
your race ; the patron of your house ; the preser\'er of your
brother, who is fed with manna daily from my table ; and in
right of whom there is a considerable balance in my favor at
present standing in the books beyond the sky. But I ha\e
no pride, for I can afford to do without it ! "

The poor girl felt it all as if it had been Gospel Truth.
Her brother writing in the fulness of his simple heart, had
often told her so, and how much more ! As Mr. Pecksniff
ceased to speak, she hung her head, and dropped a tear upon
his hand.

"Oh very well, Miss Pinch !" thought the sharp pupil,

MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT.

'43

" cr}-ing before strangers, as if you didn't like the situa-
tion ! "

" Thomas is well," said Mr. Pecksniff ; " and sends his
love and this letter. I cannot say, poor fellow, that he will
ever be distinguished in our profession ; but he has the will
to do well, which is the next thing to having the power ; and,
therefore, we must bear with him. Eh ? "

" I know he has the will, sir," said Tom Pinch's sister,
" and 1 know how kindly and considerately you cherish it, for
which neither he nor 1 can ever be grateful enough, as we
very often say m writing to each other. The young ladies
too," she added, glancing gratefully at his two daughters, " I
know how much we owe to them."

"My dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning to them with a
smile ; " Thomas's sister is saying something you will be glad
to hear, I think."

" We can't take any merit to ourselves, papa ! " cried
Cherry, as they both apprised Tom Pinch's sister, with a
curtsey, that they would feel obliged if she would keep her
distance. " Mr. Pinch's being so well provided for is owing
to you alone, and we can only say how glad we are to hear
that he is as grateful as he ought to be."

" Oh very well, Miss Pinch ! " thought the pupil again.
" Got a grateful brother, living on other people's kindness ! "

" It was very kind of you," said Tom Pinch's sister, with
Tom's own simplicity, and Tom's own smile, " to come here :
very kind indeed : though how great a kindness you have
done me in gratifying my wish to see you, and to thank you
with my own lips, you, who make so light of benefits conferred,
can scarcely think."

" Very grateful ; very pleasant ; very proper," murmured
Mr. Pecksniff.

" It makes me happy too," said Ruth Pinch, who now
that her first surprise was over, had a chatty, cheerful way
with her, and a single-hearted desire to look upon the best
side of everything, which was the very moral and image of
Tom \ "very happy to think that you will be able to tell him
how more than comfortablv I am situated here, and how un-
necessarjMt is that he should ever waste a regret on my being
cast upon my own resources. Dear me ! So long as I heard
that he was happy, and he heard that I was," said Tom's sisier,
" we could both bear, without one impatient or complaining
thought, a great deal more than ever we have had to endure,

144

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,

I am veiy certain." And if ever the plain truth were spoken
on this occasionally false earth, Tom's sister spoke it when
she said that.

" Ah ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, whose eyes had in the mean-
time wandered to the pupil ; " certainl}'. And how do yoit
do, my very interesting child ? "

"Quite well, I thank you, sir," replied that frosty innocent.

"A sweet face this, my dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning
to his daughters. " A charming manner ! "

Both young ladies had been in ecstasies with the scion of
a wealthy house (through whom the nearest road and shortest
cut to her parents might be supposed to lie) from the first.
Mrs. Todgers vowed that anything one quarter so angelic she
had never seen. " She wanted but a pair of wings, a dear,"
said that good woman, " to be a young synip : " meaning, pos-
sibly, young sylph, or seraph.

" If you will give that to your distinguished parents, my
amiable little friend," said Mr. Pecksniff, producing one of
his professional cards, " and will say that I and my
daughters — "

"And Mrs. Todgers, pa," said Merry.

"And Mrs. Todgers, of London," added Mr. Pecksniff;
" that I and my daughters, and Mrs. Todgers, of London, did
not intrude upon them, as our object simply was to take some
notice of Miss Pinch, whose brother is a young man in my
employment ; but that 1 could not leave this very chaste man-
sion, without adding my humble tribute, as an Architect, to
the correctness and elegance of the owner's taste, and to his
just appreciation of that beautiful art to the cultivation of
which 1 have devoted a life, and to the promotion of whose
glory and advancement I have sacrificed a — a fortune — I
shall be very much obliged to you."

" Missis's compliments to Miss Pinch," said the footman,
suddenly appearing, and speaking in exactly the same key as
before, " and begs 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 compliments, 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,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 145

in addition 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
who had honored her with their favors, and begged they would
have the goodness, if satisfied with the table, to recommend
her to their friends. But Mr. Pecksniff, with admirable pres-
ence of mind, recovered this document, and buttoned it up in
his own pocket.

Then he said to Miss Pinch : with more condescension
and kindness than ever, for it was desirable the footman
should expressly understand that they were not friends of
hers, but patrons :

" Good-morning. Good-by. God bless you ! Vou may
depend upon my continued protection of your brother
Thomas. Keep your mind quite at ease, Miss Pinch ! "

"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, "farewell ! That fairy creature,"
said Mr. Pecksniff, looking in his pensive mood hard at the
footman, as if he meant him, " has shed a vision on my path,
refulgent in its nature, and not easily to be obliterated. My
dears, are you ready } "

They were not quite ready yet, for they were still caressing
the pupil. But they tore themselves 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 showing them
out ; for Mr. Pecksniff's delight in the tastefulness of the
house was such that he could not help often stopping (partic-
ularly when they were near the parlor door) and giving it ex-
pression, in a loud voice and ver)^ learned terms. Indeed, he
delivered between the study and the hall, a familiar 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
you look, my dears, at the cornice which supports the roof, and
observe the airiness of its construction, especially where it

10

1 46 ^lAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

sweeps the southern angle 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 gentleman at an upper window, to
whom he spoke, not because the gentleman could hear him,
(for he certainly could not), but as an appropriate accompani-
ment to his salutation.

" I have no doubt, my dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, feigning
to point out other beauties with his hand, " that this is the
proprietor. I should be glad to know him. It might lead to
something. Is he looking this way. Charity ? "

"He is opening the window, pa ! "

" Ha, ha ! '' cried Mr. Pecksniff softly. " All right ! He
has found I'm professional. He heard me inside just now, I
have no doubt. Don't look ! With regard to the fluted pil-
lars in the portico, my dears — "

" Hallo ! " cried the gentleman.

" Sir, your servant ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, taking off his
hat. " I am proud to make your acquaintance."

" Come off the grass, will you ! " roared the gentleman.

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, doubtful of
his having heard aright. " Did you — .-' "

" Come off the grass ! " repeated the gentleman, warmly.

"We are unwilling to intrude, sir," Mr. Pecksniff smilingly
began.

" But you are intruding," returned the other, " unwar-
rantably intruding. Trespassing. You see a gravel walk,
don't you? What do you think it's- meant for .'' Open the
gate there ! Show that party out ! "

With that he clapped down the window again, and dis-
appeared.

Mr. Pecksniff put on his hat, and walked with great de-
liberation and in profound silence to the fly, gazing at the
clouds as he went, with great interest. After helping his
daughters and Mrs. Todgers into that conveyance, he stood
looking at it for some moments, as if he were not quite certain
whether it was a carriage or a temple ; 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 tranquil-minded, burst into a tor-
rent of indignation. This came, they said, of cherishing such
creatures as the Pinches. This came of lowering themselves
to their level. This came of putting themselves in the hu-

MARTIA' CHUZZLEWIT.

147

miliating position of seeming to know such bold, audacious,
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 IMiss Pinch's
friends, had acted, in their opinion, quite correctly, and had
done no more than, under such circumstances, might reason-
al)ly have been expected. To that they added (with a triliing
inconsistency), that he was a brute and a bear ; and then they
merged into a flood of tears, which swept away all wandering
epithets before it.

Perhaps Miss Pinch was scarcely so much to blame in the
matter as the Seraph, who, immediately on the withdrawal of
the visitors, had hastened to report them at head-quarters,
with a full account of their having presumptuously charged her
with the delivery of a message afterwards consigned to the
footman ; which outrage, taken in conjunction with Mr. Peck-
sniff's unobtrusive remarks on the establishment, might pos-
sibly have had some share in their dismissal. Poor Miss
Pinch, however, had to bear the brunt of it with both parties ;
being so severely taken to task by the Seraph's mother for
having such vulgar acquaintances, that she was fain to retire
to her own room in tears, which her natural cheerfulness and
submission, and the delight of having seen Mr. Pecksniff, and
having received a letter from her brother, were at first in-
sufficient to repress.

As to Mr. Pecksniff, he told them in the fly, that a good
action was its own reward ; and rather gave them to under-
stand, that if he could have been kicked in such a cause, he
would have liked it all the better. Jiut this was no comfort
to the young ladies, who scolded violently the whole way back,
and even exhibited, more than once, a keen desire to attack
the devoted Mrs. Todgers, on whose personal appearance, but
particularly on whose offending card and hand-basket, they
were secretly inclined to lay the blame of half their failure.

Todgers's was in a great bustle that evening, partly owing
to some additional domestic preparations for the morrow, and
partly to the excitement always inseparable in that house from
Saturday night, when every gentleman's linen arrived at a
different hour in its own little bundle, with his private account
pinned on the outside. There was always a great clinking of
pattens down stairs, too, until midniglit, or so, on Saturdays j
together with a frequent gleaming of mysterious lights in the

1 48 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

area, much working at the pump, and a constant jangling of
the iron handle of the pail. Shrill altercations from time to
time arose between Mrs. Todgers and unknown females in re-
mote back kitchens ; and sounds were occasionally heard,
indicativ'e of small articles of ironmongery and hardware being
thrown at the boy. It was the custom of that youth on Satur-
days, to roll up his shirt sleeves to his shoulders, and pervade
all parts of the house in an apron of coarse green baize ; more-
over, he was more strongly tempted on Saturdays than on
other days (it being a busy time}, to make excursive bolts into
the neighboring alleys when he answered the door, and there
to play at leap-frog and other sports with vagrant lads, until
pursued and brought back by the hair of his head, or the lobe
of his ear ; thus, he was quite a conspicuous feature among
the peculiar incidents of the last day in the week at Todgers's.

He was especially so on this particular Saturday evening,
and honored the Miss Pecksniffs with a deal of notice ; seldom
passing the door of Mrs. Todgers's private room, where they
sat alone before the fire, working by the light of a solitary
candle, without putting in his head and greeting them with
some such compliments as, " There you are agin ! " " Ain't it
nice ? " and similar humorous attentions.

"I say," he whispered, stopping in one of his journeys to
and fro, "young ladies, there's soup to-morrow. She's a
making it now. Ain't she a putting in the water ? Oh ! not
at all neither ! "

In the course of answering another knock, he thrust in his
head again.

" I say ! There's fowls to-morrow. Not skinny ones. Oh
no!"

Presently he called through the key-hole :

" I'here's a fish to-morrow. Just come. Don't eat none
of him ! " And, with this special warning, vanished again.

By and by, he returned to lay the cloth for supj^er, it
having been arranged between Mrs. Todgers and the young
ladies, that they should partake of an exclusive veal-cutlet to-
gether in the privacy of that apartment. He entertained them
on this occasion by thrusting the lighted candle into his mouth,
and exhibiting his face in a state of transparency ; after the
performance of which feat, he went on with his professional
duties, brightening every knife as he laid it on the table, by
breathing on the blade and afterwards polishing the same on
the apron already mentioned. When he had completed his

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

149

preparations, he grinned at the sisters, and expressed his
belief that the approaching collation would be of " rather a
spicy sort."

"Will it be long before it's ready, Bailey ? " asked Mercy,

" No," said Bailey, ''it is cooked. When I come up, she
was dodging among the tender pieces with a fork, and eating
of 'em."

But he had scarcely achieved the utterance of these words,
when he received a manual compliment on the head, which
sent him staggering against the wall ; and Mrs. Todgers, dish
in hand, stood indignantly before him.

" Oh you little villain ! " said that lady. " Oh you bad, false
boy ! "

" No worse than yerself," retorted Bailey, guarding his
head, on a principle invented by Mr. Thomas Cribb. " Ah !
Come now ! Do that agin, will yer ? "

" He's the most dreadful child," said Mrs. Todgers, setting
down the dish, " I ever had to deal with. The gentlemen
spoil him to that extent, and teach him such things, that I'm
afraid nothing but hanging will ever do him any good."

" Won't it ! " cried ifailey. " Oh ! Yes ! Wot do you
go a lowerin the table-beer for then, and destroying my con-
stitooshun ? "

"Go down stairs, you vicious boy," said Mrs. Todgers,
holding the door open. " Do you hear me .'' Go along ! "

After two or three dexterous feints, he went, and was seen
no more that night, save once, when he brought up some
tumblers and hot water, and much disturbed the two Miss Peck-
sniffs by squinting hideously behind the back of the uncon-
scious Mrs. Todgers. Having done this justice to his wounded
feelings, he retired underground, where, in company with a
swann of black beetles and a kitchen candle, he employed his
faculties in cleaning boots and brushing clothes until the
night was far advanced.

Benjamin was supposed to be the real name of this young
retainer, but he was known by a great variety of names. Ben-
jamin, for instance, had been converted into Uncle Ben, and
that had been corrupted into Uncle ; which, by an easy tran-
sition, had again passed into Barnwell, in memor}^ of the
celebrated relative in that degree who was shot by his nephew
George, while meditating in his garden at Camberwcll. The
gentlemen at Todgers's had a merry habit, too, of bestowing
upon him. for the time being, the name of any notorious male-

150 MARTrN CHUZZLEWIT.

factor or minister ; and sometimes when current events were
flat, they even sought the pages of history for these distinc-
tions ; as Mr. Pitt, Young Brownrigg, and the like. At the
period of which we write, he was generally known among the
gentlemen as Bailey junior ; a name bestowed upon him in
contradistinction, perhaps, to Old Bailey ; and possibly as in-
\olviiig the recollection of an unfortunate lady of the same
name, who perished by her own hand early in life, and has
been immortalized in a ballad.

The usual Sunday dinner-hour at Todgers's was two
o'clock ; a suitable time it was considered, for all parties ;
convenient to Mrs. Todgers, on account of the baker's \ and
convenient to the gentlemen, with reference to their afternoon
engagements. But on the Sunday which was to introduce
the two Miss Pecksniffs to a full knowledge of Todgers's and
its society, the dinner was postponed until five, in order that
everything might be as genteel as the occasion demanded.

When the hour drew nigh, Bailey junior, testifying great
excitement, appeared in a complete suit of cast-off clothes
several sizes too large for him, and in particular, mounted a
clean shirt of such extraordinary magnitude, that one of the
gentlemen (remarkable for his ready wit) called him " collars "
on the spot. At about a quarter before five, a deputation,
consisting of Mr. Jinkins, and another gentleman whose name
was Gander, knocked at the door of Mrs. Todgers's room,
and, being formally introduced to the two Miss Pecksniffs by
their parent, who was in waiting, besought the honor of con-
ducting them up stairs.

The drawing-room at Todgers's was out of the common
style ; so much so indeed, that you would hardly have taken
it to be a drawing-room, unless you were told so by somebody
who was in the secret. It was lioor-clothed all over ; and the
ceiling, including a great beam in the middle, was papered.
Besides the three little windows with seats in them, commanding
the opposite archway there was another window looking point,
blank, without any compromise at all about it, into Jinkins's
bed-room ; and high up, all along one side of the wall, was a
strip of panes of glass, tvvo-deeix giving light to the staircase.
There were the oddest closets possible, with little casements in
them, like eight-day clocks, lurking in the wainscot and taking
the shape of the stairs ; and the very door itself (which was
painted black) had two great glass eyes in its forehead with an
inquisitive green pupil in the middle of each.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

151

Here, the gentlemen were all assembled. There was a
general cry of " Hear, hear ! " and '' Bravo Jink ! " when
Mr. Jinkins appeared with Charity on his arm ; which became
quite rapturous as Mr. Gander followed, escorting Mercy, and
Mr, Pecksniff brought up the rear with Mrs. Todgers.

Then, the presentations took place. They included a gen-
tleman of a sporting turn, who propounded questions on
jockey subjects to the editors of Sunday papers, which were
regarded by his friends as rather stiff things to answer ; and
they included a gentleman of a theatrical turn, who had once
entertained serious thoughts of " coming out," but had been
kept in by the wickedness of human nature ; and they included
a gentleman of a debating turn, who was strong at speech-
making ; and a gentleman of a literary turn, who wrote squibs
upon the rest, and knew the weak side of everybody's char-
acter but his own. There was a gentleman of a vocal turn,
and a gentleman of a smoking turn, and a gentleman
of a convivial turn ; some of the gentlemen had a turn
for whist, and a large proportion of the gentlemen had
a strong turn for billiards and betting. They had all, it
may be presumed, a turn for business ; being all connnercially
employed in one way or other ; and had, every one in his own
way, a decided turn for pleasure to boot. Mr. Jinkins was of
a fashionable turn ; being a regular frequenter of the Parks
on Sundays, and knowing a great many carriages by sight.
He spoke mysteriously, too, of splendid women, and was sus-
pected of having once committed himself with a Countess.
Mr. Gander was of a witty turn, being indeed the gentleman
who had originated the sally about "collars;" which spark-
ling pleasantry was now retailed from mouth to mouth, under
the title of Gander's Last, and was received in all parts of the
room with great applause. Mr. Jinkins, it may be added, was
much the oldest of the party ; being a fish-salesman's book-
keeper, aged forty. He was the oldest boarder also ; and in
right of his double seniority, took the lead in the house, as
Mrs. Todgers had already said.

There was considerable delay in the production of dinner,
and poor Mrs. Todgers, being reproached in confidence by
Jinkins, slipped in and out, at least twenty times, to see about
it ; always coming back as though she had no such thing upon
her mind, and hadn't been out at all. But there was no hitch
in the conversation, nevertheless ; for one gentleman, who
travelled in the perfumery line, exhibited an interesting nick-

152

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

nack, in the way of a remarkable cake of shaving soap which
he had lately met with in Germany ; and the gentleman of a
literary turn repeated (by desire) some sarcastic stanzas he
had recently produced on the freezing of the tank at the back
of the house. These amusements, with the miscellaneous con-
versation arising out of them, passed the time splendidly,
until dinner was announced by Bailey junior in these terms :

" The wittles is up ! "

On which notice they immediately descended to the ban-
quet-hall ; some of the more facetious spirits in the rear tak-
ing down gentlemen as if they were ladies, in imitation of the
fortunate possessors of the two Miss Pecksniffs.

Mr. Pecksniff said grace : a short and pious grace, invok-
ing a blessing on the appetites of those present, and commit-
ting all persons who had nothing to eat, to the care of Provi-
dence ; whose business (so said the grace, in effect) it clearly
was, to look after them. This done, they fell to, with less
ceremony than appetite ; the table groaning beneath the
weight, not only of the delicacies whereof the Miss Pecksniffs
had been previously forewarned, but of boiled beef, roast veal,
bacon, pies, and abundance of such heavy vegetables as are
favorably known to house-keepers for their satisfying qualities.
Besides which, there were bottles of stout, bottles of wine, bot-
tles of ale, and divers other strong drinks, native and foreign.

All this was highly agreeable to the two Miss Pecksniffs,
who were in immense request ; sitting one on either hand of
Mr. Jinkins at the bottom of the table ; and who were called
upon to take wine with some new admirer every minute. They
had hardly felt so pleasant, and so full of conversation, in
their lives ; Mercy, in particular, was uncommonly brilliant,
and said so many good things in the way of lively repartee
that she was looked upon as a prodigy. "In short," as that
young lady observed, " they felt now, indeed, that they were
in London, and for the first time too."

Their young friend Bailey sympathized in these feelings to
the fullest extent, and, abating nothing of his patronage, gave
them every encouragement in his power : favoring them, when
the general attention was diverted from his proceedings, with
many nods and winks and other tokens of recognition, and
occasionally touching his nose with a corkscrew, as if to
express the Bacchanalian character of the meeting. In truth,
perhaps even the spirits of the two Miss Pecksniffs, and the
hungry watchfulness of Mrs. Todgers, were less worthy of

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

153

note than the proceedings of this remarkable boy, whom noth-
ing disconcerted or put out of his way. If any piece of
crockery, a dish or otherwise, chanced to slip through his
hands (which happened once or twice), he let it go with per-
fect good breeding, and never added to the painful emotions
of the company by exhibiting the least regret. Nor did he,
by hurrying to and fro, disturb the repose of the assembly, as
many well-trained servants do ; on the contrary, feeling the
hopelessness of waiting upon so large a party, he left the gen-
tlemen to help themselves to what they wanted, and seldom
stirred from behind Mr. Jinkins's chair : where, with his hands
in his pockets, and his legs planted pretty wide apart, he led
the laughter, and enjoyed the conversation.

The dessert was splendid. No waiting either. The pud-
ding-plates had been washed in a little tub outside the door
while cheese was on, and though thev were moist and warm
with friction, still there they were again, up to the mark, and
true to time. Quarts of almonds, dozens of oranges, pounds
of raisins, stacks of biffins, soup-plates full of nuts. Oh,
Todgers's could do it when it chose ! Mind that.

Then more wine came on ; red wines and white wines ;
and a large china bowl of punch, brewed by the gentleman of
a convivial turn, who adjured the Miss Pecksniffs not to be
despondent on account of its dimensions, as there were mate-
rials in the house for the decoction of lialf a dozen more of
the same size. Good gracious, how they laughed ! How
they coughed when they sipped it, because it was so strong ;
and how they laughed again when somebody vowed that but
for its color it might have been mistaken, in regard of its
innocuous qualities, for new milk ! What a shout of " No ! "
burst from the gentlemen when they pathetically implored
Mr. Jinkins to suffer them to qualify it with hot water; and
how blushingly, by little and httle, did each of them drink her
whole glassful, down to its very dregs !

Now comes the trying time, 'llie sun, as Mr. Jinkins says
(gentlemanly creature, Jinkins — never at a loss ! ), is about to
leave the firmament. " Miss Pecksniff! " says Mrs. Todgers,
softly, "will you — ?" "Oh dear, no more, Mrs. Todgers."
Mrs. Todgers rises ; the two Miss Pecksniffs rise ; all rise.
Miss Mercy Pecksniff looks downward for her scarf. Where
is it ? Dear me, where am it be ? Sweet girl, she has it on ;
not on her fair neck, but loose upon her flowing figure. A
dozen hands assist her. She is all confusion. The youngest

154

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

gentleman m company thirsts to murder Jinkiris. She skips
and joins her sister at the door. Her sister has an arm about
the waist of Mrs. Todgers. She winds her arm around her
sister. Diana, what a picture ! The hist things visible are a
shape and a skip. " Gentlemen, let us drink the ladies ! "

The enthusiasm is tremendous. The gentleman of a
debating turn rises in the midst, and suddenly lets loose a tide
of eloquence which bears down everything before it. He is
reminded of a toast : a toast to which they will respond.
There is an individual present — he has him in his eye — to
whom they owe a debt of gratitude. He repeats it, a debt of
gratitude. Their rugged natures have been softened and
ameliorated that day, by the society of lovely woman. There
is a gentleman in company whom two accomplished and
delightful females regard with veneration, as the fountain of
their existence. Yes, when yet the two Miss Pecksniffs lisped
in language scarce intelligible, they called that indi\iclual
" Father ! " There is great applause. He gives them " Mr,
Pecksniff, and God bless him ! " They all shake hands with
Mr. Pecksniff, as they drink the toast. The youngest gentle-
man in company does so with a thrill ; for he feels that a mys-
terious influence pervades the man who claims that being in
the pink scarf for his daughter.

What saith Mr. Pecksniff in reply ? Or rather let the
question be, What leaves he unsaid .'' Nothing. More punch
is called for, and produced, and drunk. Enthusiasm mounts
still higher. Every man comes out freely in his own charac-
ter. The gentleman of a theatrical turn recites. The vocal
gentleman regales them with a song. Gander leaves the
Gander of all former feasts whole leagues behind. He rises
to propose a toast. It is, The Father of Todgers's. It is
their common friend Jink. It is Old Jink, if he may call him
by that familiar and endearing appellation. The youngest
gentleman in company utters a frantic negative. He won't
have it, he can't bear it, it mustn't be. But his depth of feel-
ing is misunderstood. He is supposed to be a little elevated ;
and nobody heeds him.

■Mr. Jinkins thanks them from his heart. It is, by many
degrees, the proudest day in his humble career. When he
looks around him on the present 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 that, an opportunity arising, it can come

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 155

out quite as strong as its neighbors — perhaps stronger. He
reminds them, amidst tliunders of encouragement, that they
have heard of a somewhat simiUir establisliment in Cannon
Street ; and that they have heard it praised. 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 produce such a combination of wit and beauty as has
graced that board that day, and shall be able to serve up (all
things considered) such a dinner as that of which they have
just partaken, he will be happy to talk to it. Until then, gen-
tleman, he will stick to Todgers's.

More punch, more enthusiasm, more speeches. Eveiy-
body's health is drunk, saving the youngest gentleman's in
company. He sits apart, with his elbows on the back of a
vacant chair, aifd glares disdainfully at Jinkins. Gander, in
a convulsing speech, gives them the health of Bailey junior ;
hiccups are heard; and a glass is broken. Mr. Jinkins feels
that it is time to join the ladies. He proposes, as a final senti-
ment, Mrs. Todgers. She is worthy to be remembered sepa-
rately. Hear, hear. So she is : no doubt of it. They all
find fault with her at other times ; but every man feels, now,
that he could die in her defence.

They go up stairs, where they are not expected so soon ;
for Mrs. Todgers is asleep, Miss Charity is adjusting her
hair, and Mercy, who has made a sofa of one of the window-
seats, is in a gracefully recumbent attitude. She is rising
hastily, when Mr. jinkins implores her, for all their sakes, not
to stir ; she looks too graceful and too lovely, he remarks, to
be disturbed. She laughs, and yields, and fans herself, and
drops her fan, and there is a rush to pick it up. Being now
installed, by one consent, as the beauty of the party, she is
cruel and capricious, and sends gentlemen on messages to
other gentlemen, and forgets all about ihem before they can
return with the answer, and invents a thousand tortures, rend-
ing their hearts to pieces. Bailey brings up the tea and
coffee. There is a small cluster of admirers round Charity ;
but they are only those who cannot get near her sister. 'I"he
youngest gentleman in company is pale, but collected, and
still sits apart; for his spirit loves to hold communion wilh
itself, and his soul recoils from noisy revellers. She has a
consciousness of his presence and adoration. He sees it
flashing sometimes in the corner of her eye. Have a care,
Jinkins, ere you provoke a desperate man to frenzy !

lefi MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Pecksniff had followed his younger friends up stairs,
and taken a chair at the side of Mrs. Todgers. He had also
spilt a cup of coffee over his legs without appearing to be
aware of the circumstance ; nor did he seem to know that there
was muffin on his knee.

" And how have they used you down stairs, sir ? " asked
the hostess.

" Their conduct has been such, my dear madam," said Mr.
Pecksniff, "as I can never think of without emotion, or
remember without a tear. Oh, Mrs. Todgers ! "

" My goodness ! " exclaimed that lady. " How low you
are in your spirits, sir ! "

"I am a man, my dear madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, shed-
ding tears, and speaking with an imperfect articulation, " but
I am also a father. ' I am also a widower. My feelings, Mrs.
Todgers, will not consent to be entirely smothered, like the
young children in the Tower. They are grown up, and the
more I press the bolster on them, the more they look round
the corner of it."

He suddenly became conscious of the bit of muffin, and
stared at it intently, shaking his head the while, in a forlorn
and imbecile manner, as if he regarded it as his evil genius,
and mildly reproached it.

" She was beautiful, Mrs. Todgers," he said, turning his
glazed eye again upon her, without the least preliminary notice.
" She had a small property."

"So I have heard," cried Mrs. Todgers with great sympa-
thy.

"Those are her daughters," said Mr. Pecksniff, pomtmg
out the young ladies, with increased emotion,

Mrs. Todgers had no doubt of it.

" Mercy and Charity," said Mr. Pecksniff, " Charity and
Mercv. Not unholy names, I hope ? "

" Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried Mrs. Todgers. " What a ghastly
smile ? Are you ill, sir ? "

He pressed his hand upon her arm, and answered in a
solemn manner, and a faint voice, " Chronic."

" Cholic ? " cried the frightened Mrs. Todgers.

" Chron-ic," he repeated with some difficulty. " Chron-ic
A chronic disorder. I have been its victim from childhood.
It is carrying me to my grave."

" Heaven forbid ! " cried Mrs. Todgers.

"Yes it is," said Mr. Pecksniff, reckless with despair. "I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

157

am rather glad of it, upon the whole. You are like her, Mrs.
Todgers."

" Don't squeeze me so tight, pray, Mr. Pecksniff. If any
of the gentlemen should notice us."

" For her sake," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Permit me. In
honor of her memory. For the sake of a voice from the tomb.
You are very like her, Mrs. Todgers ! What a world this
is!"

" Ah ! Indeed you may say that ! " cried Mrs. Todgers.

"I'm afraid it is a vain and thoughtless world," said Mr.
Pecksniff, overflowing with despondency. " These young
people about us. Oh ! what sense have they of their respon-
sibilities ? None. Give me your other hand, Mrs. Todgers."

That lady hesitated, and said " she didn't like."

"Has a voice from the grave no mfluence ?" said Mr.
Pecksniff, with dismal tenderness. " This is irreligious ! My
dear creature."

" Hush ! " urged Mrs. Todgers. " Really you mustn't."

" It's not me," said Mr. Pecksniff. "Don't suppose it's
me : it's the voice ; it's her voice."

Mrs. Pecksniff deceased, must have had an unusually
thick and husky voice for a lady, and rather a stuttering voice,
and to say the truth somewhat of a drunken voice, if it had
ever borne much resemblance to that in which Mr. Pecksniff
spoke just then. But perhaps this was delusion on his part.

" It has been a day of enjoyment, Mrs. Todgers, but still
it has been a day of torture. It has reminded me of my
loneliness. What am I in the world 1 "

" An excellent gentleman, Mr. Pecksniff," said Mrs. Tod-
gers.

"There is consolation in that too," cried Mr. Pecksniff.
" Am I ? "

"There is no better man living," said Mrs. Todgers, " I
am sure."

Mr. Pecksniff smiled through his tears, and slightly shook
his head. "You are very good," he said, "thank you. It is
a great happiness to me, Mrs. Todgers, to make young people
happy. The happiness of my pupils is my chief object. I dote
upon 'em. They dote upon me too. Sometimes."

" Always," said Mrs. Todgers.

"When they say they haven't inproved, ma'am," whispered
Mr. Pecksniff, looking at her with profound mystery, and
motioning to her to advance her ear a little closer to -^is

158

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

mouth. " When they say they haven't impro\'ecl, ma'am, and
the premium was too high, they lie ! I shouldn't wish it to be
mentioned ; you will understand me ; but I say to you as to
an old friend, they lie."

" Base wretches they must be ! " said Mrs. Todgers.

" Madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, "you are right. I respect
you for that observation. A word in your ear. To Parents
and Guardians. This is in confidence, Mrs. Todgers ? "

" The strictest, of course ! " cried that lady.

" To Parents and Guardians," repeated Mr. Pecksniff.
" An eligible opportunity now offers, which unites the advan-
tages of the best practical architectural education with the
comforts of a home, and the constant association with some,
who, however humble their sphere and limited their capacity
— observe ! — are not unmindful of their moral responsibili-
ties."

Mrs. Todgers looked a little puzzled to know what this
might mean, as well she might ; for it was, as the reader may
perchance remember, Mr. Pecksniff's usual form of advertise-
ment when he wanted a pupil ; and seemed to have no partic-
ular reference, at present, to anything. But Mr. Pecksniff
held up his finger as a caution to her not to interrupt him.

" Do you know any parent or guardian, Mrs. Todgers,"
said Mr. Pecksniff, "who desires to avail himself of such an
opportunity for a young gentleman ? An orphan would be
preferred. Do you know of any orphan with three or four
hundred pound ? "

Mrs. Todgers reflected, and shook her head.

" When you hear of an orphan with three or four hun-
dred pound," said Mr. Pecksniff, " let that dear orphan's
friends apply, by letter post-paid, to S. P., Post-office, Salis-
bury. I don't know who he is, exactly. Don't be alarmed,
Mrs. Todgers," said Mr. Pecksniff, falling heavily against her :
" Chronic — chronic ! Let's have a little drop of something
to drink."

" Bless my life. Miss Pecksniffs ! " cried Mrs. Todgers,
aloud, " your dear pa's took very poorly ! "

Mr. Pecksniff straightened himself by a surprising effort,
as every one turned hastily towards him ; and standing on his
feet, regarded the assembly with a look of ineffable wisdom.
Gradually it gave place to a smile ; a feeble, helpless, melan-
choly smile ; bland, almost to sickliness. *' Do not repine,
my friends," said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. "Do not weep for

c

V.

PI

2

2

o

>

►3
W

n

•H
M

O

w

r

Pi

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 159

me. It is chronic." And with these words, after making a
futile attempt to pull off his shoes, he fell into the fire-place.

The youngest gentleman in company had him out in a
second. Yes, before a hair upon his head was singed, he had
him on the hearth-rug. — Her father !

She was almost beside herself. So was her sister. Jin-
kins consoled them both. They all consoled them. Every-
body had something to say, except the youngest gentleman in
company, who with a noble self-devotion did the heavy w^ork,
and held up Mr. Pecksniff's head without being taken notice
of by anybody. At last they gathered round, and agreed to
carry him up stairs to bed. The youngest gentleman in com-
pany was rebuked by Jinkins for tearing Mr. Pecksniff's coat !
Ha, ha ! Put no matter.

They carried him up stairs, and crushed the youngest gentle-
man at every step. His bedroom was at the top of the house,
and it was a long way ; but they got him there in course of
time. He asked them frequently on the road for a little drop
of something to drink. It seemed an idiosyncrasy. The
youngest gentleman in company proposed a draught of water,
Mr. Pecksniff called him opprobrious names for the sugges-
tion.

Jinkins and Gander took the rest upon themselves, and
made him as comfortable as they could, on the outside of his
bed; and when he seemed disposed to sleep, they left him.
But before they had all gained the bottom of the staircase, a
vision of Mr. Pecksniff, strangely attired, was seen to flutter
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 banis-
ters, " let us improve our minds by mutual inquiry and discus-
sion. Let us be moral. Let us contemplate existence.
Where is Jinkins ? "

"Here," cried that gentleman. "Go to bed again ! "

" To bed ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ped ! 'Tis the voice
of the sluggard, I hear him complain, you have woke me too
soon, I must slumber again. If any young orphan will repeat
the remainder of that simple piece from Doctor Watts's collec-
tion an eligible opportunity now offers."

Nobody \-oluntecred.

" This is very^ soothing," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a pause.
" Extremely so. Gool and refreshing ; particularly to the legs !
The legs of the human subject, my friends, are a beautiful

i6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

production. Compare them with wooden legs, and observe
the difference between the anatomy of nature and the anatomy
of art. Do you know," said Mr. Pecksniff, leaning over the
banisters, with an odd recollection of his famihar manner
among new pupils at home, "that I should very much like to
see Mrs. Todgers's notion of a wooden leg, if perfectly agree-
able to herself ! "

As it appeared impossible to entertain any reasonable
hopes of him after this speech, Mr. Jinkins and Mr. Gander
went up stairs again, and once more got him into bed. But
they had not descended to the second floor before he was out
again ; nor when they had repeated the process, had they
descended the first flight, before he was out again. In a word,
as often as he was shut up in his own room, he darted out
afresh, charged with some new moral sentiment, which he
continually repeated over the banisters, with extraordinary
relish, and an irrepressible desire for the improvement of his
fellow-creatures that nothing could subdue.

Under these circumstances, when they had got him into
bed for the thirtieth time or so, Mr. Jinkins held him, while
his companion went down stairs in search of Bailey junior,
with whom he presently returned. That youth, having been
apprised of the service required of him, was in great spirits,
and brought up a stool, a candle, and his supper ; to the end
that he might keep watch outside the bedroom door with tolera-
ble comfort.

When he had completed his arrangements, they locked Mr.
Pecksniff in, and left the key on the outside ; charging the
young page to listen attentively for symptoms of an apoplectic
nature, with which the patient might be troubled, and, in case
of any such presenting themselves, to summon them without
delay. To which Mr. Bailey modestly replied that " he hoped
he knowed wot o'clock it wos in gineral, and didn't date his
letters to his friends, from Todgers's, for nothing."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. i6i

CHAPTER X,

CONTAINING STRANGE MATTER ; ON WHICH MANY EVENTS IN
THIS HISTORY MAY, FOR THEIR GOOD OR EVIL INFLUENCE,
CHIEFLY DEPEND.

But Mr. Pecksniff came to town on business. Had he
forgotten that ? Was he always taking his pleasure with
Todgers's jovial brood, unmindful of the serious demands,
whatever they might be, upon his calm consideration ? No.

Time 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 lead 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 al-
ready, stood the worthy 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 parent'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 necessity in-
cluded 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 breakfast, he repaired
to the post-ofhce and inquired for letters. That task performed,
his business for the day was over ; and he again relaxed, vmtil
the rising of another sun proclaimed the advent of another
post.

This went on, for four or five days. At length, one morn-
ing, Mr. Pecksniff returned with a breathless rapidity, strange
to observe in him, at other times so calm ; and, seeking im-
mediate speech 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 words of Mr. Pecksniff's
utterance are known. 1 1

1 62 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" How 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 vnll not be proud, resent-
ful, or unforgiving. If he wants our friendship, 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, in-
quired for a letter addressed 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 Mr. Pecksniff's seal.

It was very short, containing indeed nothing more than an
address " with Mr. Pecksniff's respectful, and (notwithstanding
what has passed) sincerely affectionate regards." The old
gentleman tore off the direction — scattering the rest in frag-
ments 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
alighted, and dismissed the vehicle, and walked towards Tod-
gers'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 wrong, just now) such as in
other days might have survived the rack, and had its strong-
est life m weakest death ; still there were grains of hesitation
in his mind, which made him now avoid the house he sought,
and loiter to and fro in a gleam of sunlight, that brightened
the little churchyard 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 wavering ; but there he
walked, awakening 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 his meditation.
Shaking off his incertitude as the air parted with the sound of
the bells, he walked rapidly to the house, and knocked at the
door.

Mr. Pecksniff was seated in the landlady's little room, and
his visitor found him reading — by an accident ; he apologized
for it — an excellent theological work. There were cake and
wine upon a little table— by another accident, for which he
also apologized. Indeed he said, he had given his visitor up,

MARTIN CHUZZLElVfT.

163

and was about to partake of that simple refreshment with his
children, when he knocked at the door.

" Your daughters are well ? " said old Martin, laying down
his hat and stick.

Mr. Pecksniff endeavored to conceal his agitation as a
father, when he answered. Yes, they were. They were good
girls, he said, very good. He would not venture to recom-
mend Mr. Chuzzlewit to take the easy-chair, or to keep out of
the draught from the door. If he made any such suggestion,
he would expose himself, he feared, to most unjust suspicion.
He would, therefore, content himself with remarking that
there was an easy-chair in the room ; and that the door was
far from being air-tight. This latter imperfection, he might
perhaps venture to add, was not uncommonly 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 coming to London
so promptly, at my almost unexplained request ; I need
scarcely add, at my cost."

" At your cost, my good sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in a
tone of great surprise.

" It is not,'" said Martin, waving his hand impatiently,
" my habit to put my — well ! my relatives — to any personal
expense to gratify my caprices."

" Caprices, my good sir! " cried Mr. Pecksniff.

" That IS scarcely the proper word either, in this instance,"
said the old man. " No. You are right."

Mr. Pecksniff was inwardly very much relieved to hear it,
though he didn'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. Ca-
prices 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 know it now. You are to test and prove it, in
time to come. You and yours are to find that I can be con-
stant, and am not to be diverted from my end. Do you
hear ? "

" Perfectly," said Mr. Pecksniff.

" I very much regret," Martin resumed, looking steadily
at him, and speaking in a slow and measured tone ; " I very

164 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

much regret that you and I held such a conversation together,
as that which passed between us, at our last meeting. I
very much regret that I laid open to you what were then my
thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The intentions that I
bear towards you, now, are of another kind ; 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. I
confide in you to be my ally ; to attach yourself to me by ties
of Interest and Expectation ; " he laid great stress upon these
words, though Mr. Pecksniff particularly begged him not to
mention it ; " and to help me to visit the consequences of the
very worst species of meanness, dissimulation, and subtlety,
on the right heads."

" My noble sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, catching at his
outstretched hand. " And you regret the having harbored
unjust thoughts of me ! you with those gray hairs ! "

" Regrets," said Martin, " are the natural property of gray
hairs ; and I enjoy, in common with all other men, at least
my share of such inheritance. And so enough of that. I
regret having been severed from you so long. If I had known
you sooner, and sooner used you as you well deserve, I might
have been a happier man."

Mr. Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and clasped his
hands in rapture.

" Your daughters," said Martin, after a short silence. " I
don't know them. Are they like you .-* "

" 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 don't mean in person," said the old man. " Morally,
morally."

"' 'Tis not for me to say," retorted Mr. Pecksniff with a
gentle smile. " I have done my best, sir."

" I could wish to see them," said Martin ; "are they near
at hand ? "

They were ver}^ near ; for they had in fact been listening
at the door from the beginning of this conversation until now,
when they precipitately retired. Having wiped the signs of
weakness from his eyes, and so given them time to get up
stairs, Mr. Pecksniff opened he door, and mildly cried in the
passage,

" My own darlings, where are you ? "

*' Here, my dear pa ! " replied the distant voice of Charity.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 165

*' Come clown into the back parlor, if you please, my
love," said Mr. Pecksniff, " and bring your sister with you."

"Yes, my dear pa," cried Merry; and down they came
directly (being all obedience), singing as they came.

Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two Miss
Pecksniffs when they found a stranger with their dear papa.
Nothing could surpass their mute amazement when he said,
" My children, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " But when he told 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 this ! " and fell upon the old man's neck.
And when they had embraced him with such fervor of affec-
tion that no words can describe it, they grouped themselves
about his chair, arid hung over him ; as figuring to themselves
no earthly 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, from infancy, if he — •
dear obdurate ! — had but consented to receive the precious
offering.

The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and
then at Mr. Pecksniff, several times.

" What," he asked of Mr. Pecksniff, happening to catch
his eye in its descent, for until now it had been piously
upraised, with something of that expression which the poetry
of ages has ^.ttributed to a domestic bird, when breathing its
last amid the ravages of an electric storm — " What are their
names ? "

Mr. Pecksniff told him, and added, rather hastily; his ca-
lumniators would have said, with a view to any testamentary
thoughts that might be flitting through old Martin's mind ;
" Perhaps, my dears, you had better write them down. Your
humble autographs are of no value in themselves, but affec-
tion may prize them."

" Affection," said the old man, " will expend itself on the
living originals. Do not trouble yourselves, my girls, I shall
not so easily forget vou. Charity and Mercy, as to need such
tokens of remembrance. Cousin ! "

" Sir ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, with alacrity.

" Do you never sit down ? "

"Why, yes; occasionally, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, who
had been standing all this time.

" Will you do so now ? "

1 66 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"Can you ask me," returned Mr. Pecksniff, slipping into
a chair immediately, " whether I will do anything that you
desire ? "

" You talk confidently," said Martin, " and you mean well ;
but I fear you don't know what an old man's humors are.
You don't know what it is to be required to court his likings
and dislikings ; to adapt yourself to his prejudices ; to do his
bidding, be it what it may ; to bear with his distrusts and jeal-
ousies ; and always still be zealous in his service. When I
remember how numerous these failings are in me, and judge of
their occasional enormity by the injurious thoughts I lately
entertained of you, I hardly dare to claim you for my friend."

" My worthy sir," returned his relative, "how can you talk
in such a painful strain ! What was more natural than that
you should make one slight mistake, when in all other re-
spects you were so very correct, and have had such reason,
such very sad and undeniable reason, to judge of ever^' one
about you in the worst light ! "

" True," replied the other. " You are very lenient with
me."

" We always said, my girls and I," cried Mr. Pecksniff
with increasing obsequiousness, " that while we mourned the
heaviness of our misfortune in being confounded with the base
and mercenary', still we could not wonder at it. My dears,
you remember.'' "

Oh vividly ! A thousand times !

" We uttered no complaint," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Occa-
sionally we had the presumption to console ourselves with the
remark that Truth would in the end prevail, and Virtue be
triumphant ; but not often. My loves, you recollect ? "

Recollect ! Could he doubt it ? Dearest pa, what strange
unnecessary questions !

"And when I saw you," resumed Mr. Pecksniff, with still
greater deference, " in the little, unassuming village where we
take the liberty of dwelling, I said you were mistaken in me,
my dear sir : that was all, I think ? "

"No, not all," said Martin, who had been sitting with his
hand upon his brow for some time past, and now looked up
again : " you said much more, which, added to other circum-
stances that have come to my knowledge, opened my eyes.
You spoke to me, disinterestedly, on behalf of — I needn't
name him. You know whom I mean."

Trouble was expressed in Mr. Pecksniff's visage, as he

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 167

pressed his hot hands together, and repUed, with humility,
"Quite disinterestedly, sir, I assure j^ou."

" I know it," said old Martin, in his quiet way. " I am
sure of it. I said so. It was disinterested too, in you, to
draw that herd of harpies off from me, and be their victim
yourself ; most other men would have suffered them to display
themselves in all their rapacity, and would have striven to
rise, by contrast, in my estimation. You felt for me, and drew
them off, for which I owe you many thanks. Although I left
the place, I know what passed behind my back, you see ! "

" You amaze me, sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff ; which was
true enough.

" My knowledge of your proceedings," said the old man,
" does not stop at this. You have a new inmate in your
house."

"Yes, sir," rejoined the architect, " I have."

" He must quit it," said Martin.

" For — for yours ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff, with a quiver-
ing mildness.

"For any shelter he can find," the old man answered.
" He has deceived you."

" I hope not," said Mr. Pecksniff, eagerly. " I trust not.
I have been extremely well disposed towards that young man.
I hope it cannot be shown that he has forfeited all claim to
my protection. Deceit, deceit, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, would
be final. I should hold myself bound, on proof of deceit, to
renounce him instantly:"

The old man glanced at both his fair supporters, but espec-
ially at Miss Mercy, whom, indeed, he looked full in the face,
with a greater demonstration of interest than had yet appeared
in his features. His gaze again encountered Mr. Pecksniff",
as he said, composedly :

" Of course you know that he has made his matrimonial
choice ? "

" Oh dear! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, rubbing his hair up very
stiff upon his head, and staring wildly at his daughters. " This
is becoming tremendous ! "

" You know the fact ? " repeated Martin.

" Surely not without his grandfather's consent and appro-
bation, my dear sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " T3on't tell me
that. For the honor of human nature, say you're not about
to tell me that ! "

" I thought he had suppressed it," said the old man.

I OS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

The indignation felt by Mr. Pecksniff at this terrible dis-
closure, was only to be equalled by the kindling anger of his
daughters. What ! Had they taken to their hearth and home
a secretly contracted serpent ; a crocodile, who had made a
furtive offer of his hand; an imposition on society; a bank-
rupt bachelor with no effects, trading with the spinster world
on false pretences ! And oh, to think that he sliould have
disobeyed and practised on that sweet, that venerable gentle-
man, whose name he bore ; that kind and tender guardian ;
his more than father (to say nothing at all of mother), horri-
ble, horrible ! To turn him out with ignominy would be treat-
ment, much too good. Was there nothing else that could be
done to him? Had he incurred no legal pains and penalties?
Could it be that the statutes of the land were so remiss as to
have affixed no punishment to such delinquency ? Monster ;
how basely had they been deceived !

" I am glad to find you second me so warmly," said the
old man, holding up his hand to stay the torrent of their
wrath. " I will not deny that it is a pleasure to me to find
you so full of zeal. We will consider that topic as disposed
of."

"No, my dear sir," cried Mr. PecksniiT, "not as disposed
of, until I have purged my house of this pollution."

"That will follow," said the old man, "in its own time. I
look upon that as done."

" You are ver}^ good, sir," answered Mr. Pecksniff, shak-
ing his hand. " You do me honor. You may look upon it as
done, I assure you."

" There is another topic," said Martin, "on which I hope
you will assist me. You remember Mary, cousin ? "

" The young lady that I mentioned to you, my dears, as hav-
ing interested me so very much," remarked Mr. Pecksniff.
" Excuse my interrupting you, sir."

"I told you her history," said the old man.

"Which I also mentioned, you will recollect, my dears,"
cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Silly girls, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Quite
moved by it, they were ! "

" Why look now ! " said Martin, evidently pleased : " I
feared I should have had to urge her case upon you, and ask
you to regard her favorably for my sake. But I find you have
no jealousies ! Well ! You have no cause for any, to be
sure. She has nothing to gain from me, my dears, and she
knows it."

,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 169

The two Miss Pecksniffs murmured their approval of this
wise arrangement, and their cordial sympathy with its inter-
esting object.

" If I could have anticipated what has come to pass be-
tween us four," said the old man, thoughtfully : " but it is too
late to think of that. You would receive her courteously,
young ladies, and be kind to her, if need were ? "

Where was the orphan whom the two Miss Pecksniffs
would not have cherished in their sisterly bosom ! But when
that orphan was commended to their care by one on whom
the dammed-up love of years was gushing forth, what exhaust-
less stores of pure affection yearned to expend themselves
upon her !

An interval ensued, during which Mr. Chuzzlewit, in an
absent frame of fnind, sat gazing at the ground, without utter-
ing a word ; and as it was plain that he had no desire to be
interrupted in his meditations, Mr. Pecksniff and his daugh-
ters were profoundly silent also. During the whole of the
foregoing dialogue, he had borne his part with a cold, pas-
sionless promptitude, as though he had learned and painfully
rehearsed it all, a hundred times. Even when his expressions
were warmest and his language most encouraging, he had
retained the same manner, without the least abatement. But
now there was a keener brightness in his eye, and more ex-
pression in his voice, as he said, awakening from his thought-
ful mood :

" You know what will be said of this t Have you re-
flected .? "

" Said of what, my dear sir .'' " Mr. Pecksniff asked.

" Of this new understanding between us."

Mr. Pecksniff looked benevolently sagacious, and at the
same time far above all earthly misconstruction, as he shook
his head, and observed that a great many things would be
said of it, no doubt.

"A great many," rejoined the old man. "Some will say
that I dote in my old age ; that illness has shaken me ; that
I have lost all strength of mind ; and have grown childish.
You can bear that ? "

Mr. Pecksniff' answered that it would be dreadfully hard
to 'bear, but he thought he could, if he made a great effort.

" Others will say — I speak of disappointed, angry people
only — that you have lied, and fawned, and wormed yourself
through dirty ways into my favor ; by such concessions and

170

MA J? TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

such crooked deeds, such meannesses and vile endurances, as
nothing could repay : no, not the legacy of half the world
we live in. You can bear that ? "

Mr. Pecksniff made reply that this would be also very
hard to bear, as reflecting, in some degree, on the discern-
ment of Mr. Chuzzlewit. Still he had a modest confidence
that he could sustain the calumny, with the help of a good
conscience, and that gentleman's friendship.

" With the great mass of slanderers," said old Martin,
leaning back in his chair, " the tale, as I clearly foresee,
will run thus : That to mark my contempt for the rabble
whom I despised, I chose from among them the very worst,
and made him do my will, and pampered and enriched him
at the cost of all the rest. That, after casting about for the
means of a punishment which should rankle in the bosoms
of these kites the most, and strike into their gall, I devised
this scheme at a time when the last link in the chain of
grateful love and duty, that held me to my race, was roughly
snapped asunder ; roughly, for I loved him well ; roughly,
for I had ever put my trust in his affection ; roughly, for
that he broke it when I loved him most, God help me ! and
he without a pang could throw me off, while I clung about his
heart ! Now," said the old man, dismissing this passionate
outburst, as suddenly as he had yielded to it, " is your mind
made up to bear this likewise } Lay your account with hav-
ing it to bear, and put no trust in being set right by me."

" My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," cried Pecksniff in an ecstasy,
" for such a man as you ha\'e shown yourself to be this day ;
for a man so injured, yet so very humane ; for a man so — I
am at a loss what precise term to use — yet at the same time
so remarkably — I don't know how to express my meaning :
for such a man as I have described, I hope it is no presump-
tion to say that I, and I am sure I may add my children also
(my dears, we perfectly agree in this, I think ?), would bear
anything whatever ! "

" Enough," said Martin. " You can charge no conse-
quences on me. When do you return home ? "

" Whenever you please, my dear sir. To-night if you
desire it."

" I desire nothing," returned the old man, " that is un-
reasonable. Such a request would be. Will you be ready to
return at the end of this week ? "

The very time of all others that Mr. Pecksniff would have

MARTIN CITUZZLEWIT. 171

su2:2;ested if it had been left to him to make his own choice.
As to his daughters, the words, " Let us be at home on Satur-
day, dear pa," were actually upon their lips.

"Your expenses, cousin," said Martin, taking a folded
slip of paper from his pocket-book, " may possibly exceed
that amount. If so, let me know the balance that I owe you,
when we next meet. It would be useless if I told you where
I live just now : indeed, I have no fixed abode. When I
have, you shall know it. You and your daughters may expect
to see me before long : in the meantime I need not tell you,
that we keep our own confidence. What you will do when
you get home, is understood between us. Give me no ac-
count of it at any time ; and never refer to it in any way. I
ask that as a favor. I am commonly a man of few words,
cousin ; and all fliat need be said just now is said, I think."

" One glass of wine, one morsel of this homely cake .'' "
cried Mr. Pecksniff, venturing to detain him. " My dears !"

The sisters fiew to wait upon him.

" Poor girls ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " You will excuse
their agitation, my dear sir. They are made up of feeling.
A bad commodity to go through the world with, Air. Chuzzle-
wit I My youngest daughter is almost as much of a woman
as my eldest, is she not, sir ? "

" Which is the youngest .-' " asked the old man.

"Mercy, by five years," said Mr. Pecksniff. "We some-
times venture to consider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speak-
ing as an artist, I may perhaps be ]:)ermitted to suggest, that
its outline is graceful and correct. 1 am naturally," said Mr.
Pecksniff, drying his hands upon his handkerchief, and look-
ing anxiously in his cousin's face at almost every word,
" proud, if I may use the expression, to have a daughter who
is constructed on the best models."

" She seems to have a lively disposition," observed
Martin.

" Dear me !" said Mr. Pecksniff. "That is quite remark-
able. You have defined her character, my dear sir, as cor-
rectly as if you had known her from her birth. She has a
lively disposition. I assure you, my dear sir, that in our un-
pretending home, her gayety is delightful."

" No doubt," returned the old man.

" Charity, upon the other hand," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is
remarkable for strong sense, and for rather a deep tone of
sentiment, if the partiality of a father may be excused in say-

172

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ing so. A wonderful affection between them, my dear sir !
Allow me to drink your health. Bless you ! "

" I little thought," retorted Martin, "but a month ago, that
I should be breaking bread and pouring wine with you. I
drink to you."

Not at all abashed by the extraordinary abruptness 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 ! "

But this distant form of farewell was by no means tender
enough for the yearnings of the young ladies, who again em-
braced him with all their hearts — with all their arms at any
rate — to which parting caresses their new-found friend sub-
mitted with a better grace than might have been expected
from one who, not a moment before, had pledged their parent
in such a ver}^ uncomfortable manner. These endearments
terminated, he took a hasty leave of Mr. Pecksniff, and with-
drew, followed to the door by both father and daughters, who
stood there, kissing their 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 un-
usual amount of gayety ; insomuch that they clapped their
hands, and laughed, and looked with roguish aspects and a
bantering 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 ! "

This admonition had so little effect on Mercy, that she
was obliged to hold her handkerchief before her rosy lips, and
to throw herself back in her chair, with eveiy demonstration
of extreme amusement ; 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 solitude and contempla-
tion. But at that juncture they were disturbed by the sound
of voices in dispute ; and as it proceeded from the next room,

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 7 3

the subject matter of the altercation quickly reached their
ears.

" I don't care that ! Mrs. Todgers," said the young gen-
tleman who had been the youngest gentleman in company on
the day of the festival ; " I don't care that, ma'am," said he,
snapping his fingers, " for Jinkins. Don't suppose I do."

" I am quite certain you don't, sir," replied Mrs. Todgers.
" You have too independent a spirit, I know, to yield to any
body. And quite right. There is no reason why you should
give way to any gentleman. Everybody must be well aware
of that."

" I should think no inore 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 mat-
ter 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 gentleman. " I
give him warning. No man shall 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 yo ingest gen-
tleman, " but now my soul rebels against it, and 1 won't stand
it any longer. I left home originally, because I had that
within me which wouldn't be domineered over by a sister ;
and do you think I'm going to be put down by him ? 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 ! " cried the youngest gentleman. " Don't
he interrupt and contradict me on every occasion ? Does he
ever fail to interpose himself between me and an3'tiiing 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 bragging remarks about
his razors, and insulting allusions to people who have no ne-

174

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

cessity to shave more than once a week ? But let him look
out ! He'll find himself shaved, pretty close, before long, and
so 1 tell him."

The young gentleman was mistaken in this closing sen-
tence, inasmuch as he never told it to Jinkins, but always to
Mrs. 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, you may think your-
self 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 house's right-hand. So popular as you are among
the gentlemen ; so generally looked up to ; and so much
liked ! I do hope you'll think better of it ; if on nobody else's
account, on mine."

"There's Jinkins," said the youngest gentleman, moodily.
"Your favorite. He'll console you, and the gentlemen too,
for the loss of twenty such as me. I'm not understood in this
house. I never have been."

" Don't run away with that opinion, sir ! " cried Mrs. Tod-
gers, with a show of honest indignation. " 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 remark you
please against the gentlemen, or against me ; but don't say
you're not understood in this house."

" I'm not treated as if I was," said the youngest gentle-
man.

" There you make a great mistake, sir," returned 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. Jinkins, I must
beg of you, if we are to part, to understand that I don't abet
Mr. Jinkins, by any means. Far from it. I could wish that
Mr. Jinkins would take a lower tone in this establishment,
and would not be the means of raising differences between me
and gentlemen that I can much less bear to part with, than I
could with Mr. Jinkins. Mr. Jinkins is not such a boarder,
sir," added Mrs. Todgers. "that all considerations of private

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 7 5

feeling and respect give way before him. Quite the contrar)',
I assure you."

The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and
similar speeches on the part of Mrs. Todgers, that he and that
lady gradually changed positions ; so that she became the
injured party, and he was understood to be the injurer ; but
in a complimentar}', not in an offensive sense ; his cruel con-
duct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to that
alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his no-
tice, and assured Mrs. Todgers of his unalterable regard : and
having done so, went back to business.

'* Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs ! " cried that lady, as
she came into the back room, and sat wearily down, with
her basket on hgr knees, and her hands folded upon it, "what
a trial of temper it is to keep a house like this ! You must
have heard most of what has just passed. Now did you ever
hear the like ? "

" Never ! " said the two Miss Pecksniffs.

" Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to
deal with," resumed Mrs. Todgers, " that is the most ridicu-
lous and unreasonable. Mr. Jinkins is hard upon him some-
times, but not half as hard as he deserves. To mention such
a gentleman as Mr. Jinkins in the same breath with Imn.
You know it's too much ! And yet he's as jealous of him,
bless you, as if he was his equal."

The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs. Tod-
gers's account, no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative
of the youngest gentleman's character, which she went on to
tell them. But Mr. Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry :
and when she had concluded, said in a solemn voice :

" Pray, Mrs. Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that
young gentleman contribute towards the support of these
premises 'i "

" Why, sir, for what he has, he pays about eighteen shil-
lings a week ! " said Mrs. Todgers.

" Eighteen shillings a week ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff.

" Taking one week with another ; as near that as possi-
ble," said Mrs. Todgers.

Mr. Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked
at her, and shook his head.

"And do you mean to say, ma'am, is it possible, Mrs.
Todgers, that for such a miserable consideration as eighteen
shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far

1 76 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

demean herself as to wear a double face, even for an in-
stant ? "

" I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir,"
faltered Mrs. Todgers. " I must preserve peace among them,
and keep my connection together, if possible, Mr. Pecksnil^f.
The profit is very small."

" The profit ! " cried that gentleman, laying great stress
upon the word. " The profit, Mrs. Todgers ! You amaze me ! "

He was so severe, that Mrs. Todgers shed tears.

" The profit ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff. " The profit of
dissimulation ! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eigh-
teen 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 mournfully. " Oh,
Baal, Baal ! Oh my friend, Mrs. Todgers ! To barter away
that precious jewel, self-esteem, and cringe to any mortal
creature — for eighteen shillings a week ! "

He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that
he immediately took down his hat from 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 figure teemed with a con-
sciousness of the moral homily he had read to Mrs. Todgers.

Eighteen shillings a week ! Just, most just, thy censure,
upright Pecksniff ! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon,
star, or garter ; sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in
parliament, a tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword ; a
place, a party, or a thriving lie, or eighteen thousand pounds,
or even eighteen hundred ; — but to worship the golden calf
for eighteen shillings a week ! Oh pitiful, pitiful !

CHAPTER XI.

WHEREIN A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN BECOMES PARTICULAR IN
HIS ATTENTIONS TO A CERTAIN LADY ; AND MORE COMING
EVENTS THAN ONE, CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.

The family were within two or three days of their depart-
ure from Mrs. Todgers's, and the commercial gentlemen were
to a man despondent and not to be comforted, because of the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 177

approaching separation, when Bailey junior, at the jocund time
of noon, presented himself before Miss Charity Pecksniff, then
sitting with her sister in the banquet chamber, hemming six new
pocket-handkerchiefs for Mr. Jinkins ; and having expressed a
hope, preliminar}- and pious, that he might be blest, gave her
in his pleasant way to understand that a visitor attended to
pay his respects to her, and was at that moment waiting in the
drawing-room. Perhaps this last announcement showed in a
more striking point of view than many lengthened speeches
could have done, the trustfulness and faith of Bailey's nature j
since he had, in fact, last seen the visitor on the door-mat,
where, after signifying to him that he would do well to
go up stairs, he had left him to the guidance of his own
sagacity. Hence,.it was at least an even chance that the
visitor w^as then wandering on the roof of the house, or vainly
seeking to extricate himself from a maze of bedrooms ; Tod-
gers's being precisely that kind of establishment in which an
unpiloted stranger is pretty sure to find himself in some place
where he least expects and least desires to be.

" A gentleman for me ! " cried Charity, pausing in her
work ; " my gracious, Bailey ! "

" Ah ! " said Bailey. " It is my gracious, a'nt it t "
Wouldn't I be gracious neither, not if I wos him ! "

The remark was rendered somewhat obscure in itself, by
reason (as the reader may have observed) of a redundancy of
negatives ; but accompanied by action expressive of a faithful
couple walking arm-in-arm towards a parochial church, mutu-
ally exchanging looks of love, it clearly signified this youth's
conviction that the caller's purpose was of an amorous tend-
ency. Miss Charity affected to reprove so great a liberty ;
but she could not help smiling. He was a strange boy to be
sure. There was always some ground of probability and like-
lihood mingled with his absurd behavior. That was the best
of it !

"But I don't know any gentleman, Bailey," said Miss
Pecksniff. " I think you must have made a mistake."

Mr. Bailey smiled at the extreme wildness of such a sup-
position, and regarded the young ladies with unimpaired affa-
bility.

" My dear Merry," said Charity, "who can it be ? Isn't it
odd ? I have a great mind not to go to him really. So very
strange you know ! "

The younger sister plainly considered that this appeal had

12

1 7 8 ^/^ R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

its origin in the pride of being called upon and asked for ; and
that it was intended as an assertion of superiority, and a re-
taliation upon her for having captured the commercial gentle-
men. Therefore, she replied, with great affection and polite-
ness, that it was, no doubt, very strange indeed ; and that
she was totally at a loss to conceive what the ridiculous jDer-
son 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 afraid your head is turned, you silly thing," said
Cherry.

" Do you know, my dear," said Merr^-, with engaging can-
dor, " that I have been afraid of that, myself, all along ! So
much incense and nonsense, and all the rest of it, is enough
to turn a stronger head than mine. What a relief it must be
to you, my dear, to be so very comfortable in that respect, and
not to be worried by those odious men ! How do you do it.
Cherry ? "

This artless inquiry might have led to turbulent results,
but for the strong emotions of delight evinced by Bailey junior,
whose relish in the turn the conversation had lately taken was
so acute, that it impelled and forced him to the instantaneous
performance of a dancing step, extremely difficult in its na-
ture, and only to be achieved in a moment of ecstasy, which is
commonly called The Frog's Hornpipe. A manifestation so
lively, brought to their immediate recollection the great
virtuous precept, " Keep up appearances whatever you do,"
in which they had been educated. They forbore at once, and
jointly signified to Mr. Bailey that if he should presume to
practice 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 that lady.
The young gentleman having expressed the bitterness of his
contrition by affecting to wipe away 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 damsel went in state up stairs
to receive her mysterious adorer.

By some strange occurrence of favorable circumstances he
had found out the drawing-room, and was sitting there alone.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 179

" Ah, cousin ! " he said. " Here I am, you see. You
thought I was lost, I'll be bound. Well ! how do you find
yourself by this time } "

Miss Charity replied that she was quite well, and gave Mr.
Jonas Chuzzlewit her hand.

" That's right," said Mr. Jonas, " and you've got over the
fatigues of the journey, have you ? I say. How's the other
one ? "

" My sister is very well, I believe," returned the young
lady. " I have not heard her complain of any indisposition,
sir. Perhaps you would like to see her, and ask her your-
self ? "

" No, no, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas, sitting down beside
her on the window-seat. " Don't be in a hurry. There's no
occasion for that', you know. What a cruel girl you are ! "

"It's impossible iox you to know," said Cherry, "whether
I am or not."

" Well, perhaps it is," said Mr. Jonas. " I say ! Did
you think I was lost ? You haven't told me that."

" I didn't think at all about it," answered Cheny.

" Didn't you, though ? " said Jonas, pondering upon this
strange reply. " — Did the other one? "

" I am sure it's impossible for me to say what my sister
may, or may not have thought on such a subject," cried
Cherry. " She never said anything to me about it, one way
or other."

" Didn't she laugh about it .? " inquired Jonas.

" No. She didn't even laugh about it," answered Charity.

" She's a terrible one to laugh, an't she ? " said Jonas,
lowering his voice.

■" She is very lively," said Cherr}'.

" Liveliness is a pleasant thing — when it don't lead to
spending money. An't it .'' " asked Mr. Jonas.

" Very much so, indeed," said Cherry, with a demureness
of manner that gave a very disinterested character to her
assent.

" Such liveliness as yours I mean, you know," observed
Mr. Jonas, as he nudged her with his elbow. " 1 should have
come to see you before, but I didn't know where you was.
How quick you hurried off, that morning ! "

" I was amenable to my papa's directions," said Miss
Charity.

" I wish he had given me his direction," returned her

1 8 o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

cousin, " and then I should have found you out before. Why,
I shouldn't have found you even now, if I hadn't met him in
the street this morning. What a sleek, sly chap he is ! Just
like a tom-cat, an't he ? "

" I must trouble you to have the goodness to speak more
respectfully of my papa, Mr. Jonas," said Charity. " I can't
allow such a tone as that, even in jest."

" Ecod, you may say what you like of my father, then, and
so' I give you leave," said Jonas. " I think it's liquid aggrava-
tion that circulates through his veins, and not regular blood.
How old should you think my father was, cousin .-* "

"Old, no doubt," replied Miss Charity; "but a fine old
gentleman."

" A fine oldgentleman ! " repeated Jonas, giving the crown
of his hat an angry knock. " Ah ! It's time he was thinking
of being drawn out a little finer too. Why, he's eighty ! "

" Is he, indeed ? " said the young lady.

" And ecod," cried Jonas, " now he's gone so far without
giving in, I don't see much to prevent his being ninety ; no,
nor even a hundred. Why, a man with any feeling ought to
be ashamed of being eighty let alone more. Where's his
religion I should like to know, when he goes flying in the face
of the Bible like that .-' Three-score-and-ten's the mark ; and
no man with a conscience, and a proper sense of what's
expected of him, has any business to live longer."

Is any one surprised at Mr. Jonas making such a reference
to such a book for such a purpose 1 Does any one doubt the
old saw, that the Devil (being a lajanan) quotes Scripture for
his own ends ? If he will take the trouble to look about him,
he may tind a greater number of confirmations of the fact, in
the occurrences of any single day, than the steam-gun ' can
discharge balls in a minute.

" But there's enough of my father," said Jonas ; " it's of no
use to go putting one's-self out 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 house after-
wards, and have a bit of something. Pecksniff will most
likely look in in the evening, he says, and bring you home.
See, here's his writing ; I made him put it down this morning,
when he told me he shouldn't be back before I came here ;
in case you wouldn't believe me. There's nothing like proof,
is there ? Ha, ha ! I say — you'll bring the other one, you
know ! "

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 8 1

Miss Charity cast her eyes upon her father's autograph,
which merely said : " Go, my children, with your cousin. Let
there be union among us when it is possible ; " and after
enough of hesitation to impart a proper value to her consent,
withdrew, to prepare her sister and herself for the excursion.
She soon returned, accompanied by Miss Mercy, who was by
no means pleased to leave the brilliant triumphs of Todgers's
for the societ}' 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 anywhere else, I assure you."

"You don't mean that," cried Mr. Jonas. "You can't,
you know. It isn't possible."

"You can have what opinion you like, fright," retorted
Mercy. " I am content to keep mine ; and mine is that you
are a very unpleasant, odious, disagreeable person." Here
she laughed heartily, and seemed to enjoy herself very much.

" Oh, you're a sharp gal ! " said Mr. Jonas. " She's a
regular teazer, an't she, cousin ? "

Miss Charity replied in effect, that she was unable to say
what the habits and propensities of a regular teazer might be ;
and that even if she possessed such information, it would ill
become 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," added Cherry with an angry
glance, "whatever her real nature may be."

"Well, my dear," said Meny, " the only observation I
have to make, is, that if we don't go out at once, 1 shall cer-
tainly take my bonnet off again, and stay at home."

This threat had the desired effect of preventing any far-
ther altercation, for Mr. Jonas immediately proposed an ad-
journment, 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 be-
ing observed by Bailey junior, from the garret window, was
by him saluted with a loud and \iolent fit of coughing, to which
paroxysm he was still the victim when they turned the corner.

Mr. Jonas inquired in the first instance if they were good
walkers, and being answered, "Yes," submitted their pedes-
trian powers to a pretty severe test ; for he showed them as
many sights, in the way of bridges, churches, streets, outsides
of theatres, and other free spectacles, in that one forenoon, as
most people see in a twelvemonth. It was observable in this

1 8 2 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

gentleman, that he had an insurmountable distaste to the in-
sides of buildings ; and that he was perfectly acquainted with
the merits of all shows, in respect of which there was any
charge for admission, which it seemed were every one detesta-
ble, and of the very lowest grade of merit. He was so thor-
oughly possessed with this opinion, that when Miss Charity
happened to mention the circumstance of their having been
twice or thrice to the theatre with Mr. Jinkins and party, he
inquired, as a matter of course, " where the orders came
from ? " and being told that Mr. Jinkins and party paid, was
beyond description entertained, observing that " they must be
nice flats, certainly ; " and often in the course of the walk,
bursting out again into a perfect convulsion of laughter at the
surpassing silliness of those gentlemen, and (doubtless) at his
own superior wisdom.

When they had been out for some hours and were thor-
oughly fatigued, it being by that time twilight, Mr. Jonas in-
timated that he would show them one of the best pieces of
fun with which he was acquainted. This joke was of a prac-
tical kind, and its humor lay in taking a hackney-coach to the
extreme limits of possibility for a shilling. Happily it brought
them to the place where Mr. Jonas dwelt, or the young ladies
might have rather missed the point and cream of the jest.

The old-established firm of Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son,
Manchester Warehousemen, and so forth, had its place of busi-
ness in a very narrow street somewhere behind the Post Of-
fice ; where eveiy house was in the brightest summer morn-
ing very gloomy ; and where light porters watered the pave-
ment, each before his own emploj^er's premises, in fantastic
patterns, in the dog-days ; and where spruce gentlemen with
their hands in the pockets of symmetrical trousers, were al-
ways to be seen in warm weather, contemplating their unde-
niable boots in dusty warehouse doorways : which appeared
to be the hardest work they did, except now and then carr}^-
ing pens behind their ears. A dim, dirty, smoky, tumble-
down, rotten old house it was, as anybody would desire to
see ; but there the firm of Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son trans-
acted all their business and their pleasure too, such as it
was ; for neither the young man nor the old had any other
residence, or any care or thought beyond its narrow limits.

Business, as may be readily supposed, was the main thing
in this establishment ; insomuch indeed that it shouldered com-
fort out of doors, and jostled the domestic arrangements at

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

183

every turn. Thus in the miserable bed-rooms there were files
of moth-eaten letters hanging up against the walls ; and linen
rollers, and fragments of old patterns, and odds and ends of
spoiled goods, strewed upon the ground ; while the meagre
bedsteads, washing-stands, and scraps of carpet, were hud-
dled away into corners as objects of secondary consideration,
not to be thought of but as disagreeable necessities, furnish-
ing no profit, and intruding on the one affair of life. The
single sitting-room was on the same principle, a chaos of
boxes and old papers, and had more counting-house stools
in it than chairs ; not to mention a great monster of a
desk straddling over the middle of the floor, and an iron safe
sunk into the wall above the fire-place. The solitary little
table for purposes of refection and social enjoyment, bore as
fair a proportion to the desk and other business furniture, as
the graces and harmless relaxations of life had ever done, in
the persons of the old man and his son, their pursuit of wealth.
It was meanly laid out now, for dinner ; and in a chair before
the fire, sat Anthony himself, who rose to greet his son and
his fair cousins as they entered.

An ancient proverb warns us that we should not expect to
find old heads upon young shoulders ; to which it may be
added that we seldom meet with that unnatural combination,
but we feel a strong desire to knock them off ; merely from
an inherent love we have of seeing things in their right places.
It is not improbable that many men, in no wise choleric by
nature, felt this impulse rising up within them, when they first
made the acquaintance of Mr. Jonas; but if they had known
him more intimately in his own house, and had sat with him
at his own board, it would assuredly have been paramount to
all other considerations.

" Well, ghost ! " said Mr. Jonas, dutifully addressing his
parent by that title. " Is dinner nearly ready "i "

" I should think it was," rejoined the old man.

" What's the good of that t " rejoined the son. " /should
think it was. I want to know."

" Ah ! I don't know for certain," said Anthony.

"You don't know for certain," rejoined his son in a lower
tone. " No. You don't know anything for certain, you don't.
Give me your candle here. I want it for the gals."

Anthony handed him a battered old office candlestick,
with which Mr. Jonas preceded the young ladies to the near-
est bed-room, where he left them to take off their shawls and

1 8 4 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

bonnets ; and returning, occupied himself in opening a bottle
of wine, sharpening the carving-knife, and muttering compli-
ments to his father, until they and the dinner appeared to-
gether. The repast consisted of a hot leg of mutton with
greens and potatoes ; and the dishes having been set upon
the table by a slipshod old w^oman, they were left to enjoy it
after their own manner.

" Bachelor's Hall you know, cousin," said Mr. Jonas to
Charity. "I say — the other one will be having a laugh at this
when she gets home, won't she ? Here ; you sit on the right
side of me, and I'll have her upon the left. Other one, will
you come here ? "

"You're such a fright," replied Mercy, " that I know I
shall have no appetite if I sit so near you : but I suppose I
must."

" An't she lively ? " whispered Mr. Jonas to the elder sis-
ter, with his favorite elbow emphasis.

" Oh I really don't know ! " replied Miss Pecksniff, tartly.
"I am tired of being asked such ridiculous questions."

" What's that precious old father of mine about now ? "
said Mr. Jonas, seeing that his parent was travelling up and
down the room, instead of taking his seat at table. " What
are you looking for ? "

" I've lost my glasses, Jonas," said old Anthony.

" Sit down without your glasses, can't you .-• " returned his
son. " You don't eat or drink out of 'em, I think ; and
where's that sleepy-headed old Chuffey got to ! Now, stupid.
Oh ! you know your name, do you ? "'

It would seem that he didn't, for he didn't come until the
father called. As he spoke, the door of a small glass office,
which was partitioned off from the rest of the room, was slowly
opened, and a little blear-eyed, weazen-faced, ancient man
came creeping out. He was of a remote fashion, and dusty,
like the rest of the furniture ; he was dressed in a decayed
suit of black ; with breeches garnished at the knees with rusty
whisps of ribbon, the ver)' paupers of shoe-strings; on the
lower portion of his spindle legs were dingy w'orsted stock-
ings of the same color. He looked as if he had been put
away and forgotten half a centur}' before, and somebody had
just found him in a lumber-closet.

Such as he was, he came slowly creeping on towards the
table, until at last he crept into the vacant chair, from which, as
his dim faculties became conscious of the presence of strangers,

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 185

and those strangers ladies, he rose again, apparently intend-
ino" to make a bow. But he sat down once more, without hav-
in'^ made it, and breathing on his shrivelled hands to warm
them, remained with his poor blue nose immovable about his
plate, looking at nothing, with eyes that saw nothing, and a
face that meant nothing. Take him in that state, and he was
an embodiment of nothing. Nothing else.

"Our clerk," said Mr. Jonas, as host and master of the
ceremonies: "Old Chuffey."

" Is he deaf ? " inquired one of the young ladies.

" No, I don't know that he is. He an't deaf, is he,
father ? "

" I never heard him say he was," replied the old man.

" Blind ? " inquired the young ladies.

" N — no. I never understood that he was at all blind,"
said Jonas, carelessly. " You don't consider him so, do you
father ? "

"Certainly not," replied Anthony.

"What is he then.?"

"Why, I'll tell you what he is," said Mr. Jonas, apart to
the young ladies, " he's precious old for one thing \ and I
an't best pleased with him for that, for I think my father must
have caught it of him. He's a strange old chap, for another,"
he added in a louder voice, " and don't understand any one
hardly, but Jihn ! " He pointed to his honored parent with
the carving-fork, in order that they might know whom he
meant.

" How very strange ! " cried the sisters.

"Why, you see," said Mr. Jonas, " lie's been addling his
old brains with figures and book-keeping all his life ; and
twenty years ago or so he went and took a fever. vVlI the
time he was out of his head (which was three weeks) he never
left off casting up ; and he got to so many million at last that
I don't believe he's ever been quite right since. We don't do
much business now though, nnd he an't a bad clerk."

" A very good one," said Anthony.

" Well ! He an't a dear one at all events," observed
Jonas ; " and he earns his salt, which is enough for our look-
out. I was telling you that he hardly understands any one
except my father ; he always understands him though, and
wakes up quite wonderful. He's been used to his ways so
long, you see ! Why, I've seen him play whist, with my father
for a partner j and a good rubber too ; when he had no more

1 86 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

notion what sort of people he was playing against, than you
have."

" Has he no appetite ? " asked Merry.

" Oh yes," said Jonas, plying his own knife and fork ver}'
fast. " He eats — when he's helped. But he don't care
whether he waits a minute or an hour, as long as father's here :
so when I'm at all sharp set, as I am to-day, I come to him
after I've taken the edge off my own hunger, you know. Now,
Chuff ey, stupid, are you ready ? "

Chuffey remained immovable.

" Always a perverse old file, he was," said Mr. Jonas,
coolly helping himself to another slice, '*ask him, father."

" Are you ready for your dinner, Chuffey ? " asked the old
man.

" Yes, yes," said Chuffey, lighting up into a sentient human
creature at the first sound of the voice, so that it was at
once curious and quite a moving sight to see him. " Yes,
yes. Quite ready, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Quite ready, sir. All
ready, all ready, all ready." With that he stopped, smilingly,
and listened for some further address ; but being spoken to
no more, the light forsook his face by little and little, until he
was nothing again. ^

" He'll be very disagreeable, mind," said Jonas, address-
ing his cousins as he handed the old man's portion to his
father. " He always chokes himself when it an't broth. Look
at him now ! Did you ever see a horse with such a wall-eyed
expression as he's got } If it hadn't been for the joke of it, I
wouldn't have let him come in to-day ; but I thought he'd
amuse you."

The poor old subject of this humane speech, was, happily
for himself, as unconscious of its purport, as of most other
remarks that were made in his presence. But the mutton
being tough, and his gums weak, he quickly verified the
statement relative to his choking propensities, and underwent
so much in his attempts to dine, that Mr. Jonas was infinitely
amused : protesting that he had seldom seen him better com-
pany in all his life, and that he was enough to make a man
split his sides with laughing. Indeed, he went so far as to
assure the sisters, that in this point of view he considered
Chuffey superior to his own father ; which, as he significantly
added, was saying a great deal.

It was strange enough that Anthony Chuzzlewit, himself
so old a man, should take a pleasure in these gibings of his

MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 187

estimable son, at the expense of the poor shadow at their
table. But he did, unquestionably : though not so much — to
do him justice — with reference to their ancient clerk, as in
exultation at the sharpness of Jonas. For the same reason,
that young man's coarse allusions, even to himself, filled him
with a stealthy glee : causing him to rub his hands and chuckle
covertly, as if he said in his sleeve, '' /taught him. /trained
him. This is the heir of my bringing-up. Sly, cunning, and
covetous, he'll not squander my money. I worked for this ; I
hoped for this ; it has been the great end and aim of my life."

What a noble end and aim it was to contemplate in the
attainment, truly ! But there be some who manufacture idols
after the fashion of themselves, and fail to worshijD them
when they are niade ; charging their deformity on outraged
nature. Anthony was better than these at any rate.

Chuffey boggled over his plate so long, that Mr. Jonas,
losing patience, took it from him at last with his own hands,
and requested his father to signify to that venerable person
that he had better " peg away at his bread ; " which Anthony
did.

" Ay, ay ! " cried the old man, brightening up as before,
when this was communicated to him in the same voice : " quite
right, quite right. He's your own son, Mr. Chuzzlewit !
Bless him for a sharp lad ! Bless him, bless him ! "

Mr. Jonas considered this so particularly childish (perhaps
with some reason), that he only laughed the more, and told
his cousins that he was afraid one of these fine days, Chuffey
would be the death of him. The cloth was then removed, and
the bottle of wine set upon the table, from which Mr. Jonas
filled the young ladies' glasses, calling on them not to spare
it, as they might be certain there was plenty more where that
came from. But he added with some haste after this sally,
that it was only his joke, and they wouldn't suppose him to be
in earnest, he was sure.

" I shall drink," said Anthony, " to Pecksniff. Your fa-
ther, my dears. A clever man, Pecksniff. A wary man ! A
hypocrite, though, eh } A hypocrite, girls, eh ? Ha, ha, ha !
Well, so he is. Now, among friends, he is. I don't think the
worse of him for that, unless it is that he overdoes it. You
may overdo anything, my darlings. You may overdo even
hypocrisy. Ask Jonas ! "

"You can't overdo taking care of yourself," observed that
hopeful gentleman with his mouth full.

l88 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Do you hear that, my dears ? " cried Anthony, quite en-
raptured. Wisdom, wisdom ! A good exception, Jonas. No.
It's not easy to overdo that."

" Except," whispered Mr. Jonas to his favorite cousin,
" except when one lives too long. Ha, ha ! Tell the other
one that. I say ! '

" Good gracious me ! " said Cherry, in a petulant manner.
"You can tell her, yourself, if you wish, can't you ? "

" She seems to make such game of one," replied Mr.
Jonas.

" Then why need you trouble yourself about her ? " said
Charity. " I am sure she doesn't troubte herself much about
you."

" Don't she though ? " asked Jonas.

" Good gracious me, need I tell you that she don't ? "
returned the young lady.

Mr. Jonas made no verbal rejoinder, but he glanced at
Mercy with an odd expression in his face ; and said that
wouldn't break his heart, she might depend upon it. Then he
looked on Charity with even greater favor than before, and
besought her, as his polite manner was, " to come a little
closer."

" There's another thing that's not easily overdone, father,"
remarked Jonas, after a short silence.

" What's that } " asked the father ; grinning already in an-
ticipation.

" A bargain," said the son. " Here's the rule for bargains.
' Do other men, for they would do you.' That's the true busi-
ness precept. All others are counterfeits."

The delighted father applauded this sentiment to the echo ;
and was so much tickled by it, that he was at the pains of im-
parting the same to his ancient clerk, who rubbed his hands, nod-
ded his palsied head, winked his watery eyes, and cried in his
whistling tones, " Good ! Good ! Your own son, Mr. Chuzzle-
wit ! " with every feeble demonstration of delight that he was ca-
pable of making. But this old man's enthusiasm had the re-
deeming quality of being felt in sympathy with the only creature
to whom he was linked by ties of long association, and by his
present helplessness. And if there had been anybody there,
who cared to think about it, some dregs of better nature
unawakened, might perhaps have been descried through that
very medium, melancholy though it was, yet lingering at the
bottom of the worn-out cask, called Chuffey.

MARTIiX CHUZZLEWTT. ign

As matters stood, nobody tliought or said anything upon
the subject ; so Chuffey fell hack into a dark corner on one
side of the fire-place, where he always spent his evenings, and
was neither seen nor heard again that night ; save once, when
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 these seasons, or that he heard, or saw, or
felt, or thought. He remained, as it were, frozen ujd — if any
term expressive of such a vigorous process can be applied to
him — until he was again thawed 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 confusio.p imaginable ; the more so, from Mr. Jonas
sitting close beside her, and whispering a variety of admiring
expressions in her ear. Miss Alercy, for her part, felt the
entertainment of the evening to be so distinctly and exclu-
sively theirs, that she silently deplored the commercial gentle-
men— at that moment, no doubt, wearying for her return —
and yawned over yesterday's newspaper. As to Anthony,
he went to sleep outright, so Jonas and Cheriy had a clear
stage to themselves as long as they chose to keep possession
of it.

When the tea tray was taken away, as it 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 decoy somebodv into
laying a wager with you that you couldn't do it ; and were then
immediately to win and pocket his money. Mr. Jonas informed
them that these accomplishments were in high 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 knaver}^ and meanness was required as the
ground-work of belief, Mr. Jonas was one of the most credu-
lous of men. His ignorance, which was stupendous, may
be taken into account, if the reader pleases, separately.

This fine young man had all the inclination to be a profli-
gate of the first waler, and only lacked the one good trait in
the common catalogue of debauched vices — open-handedness
— to be a notable vagabond. But there his griping and pen-
urious habits stepped in ; and as one poison will sometimes

I go MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

neutralize another, when wholesome remedies would not avail,
so he was restrained by a bad passion from quaffing his full
measure of evil, when virtue might have sought to hold him
back in vain.

By the time he had unfolded all the peddling schemes he
knew upon the cards, it was growing late in the evening ;
and Mr. Pecksniff not making his appearance, the young
ladies expressed a wish to return home. But this, Mr. Jonas,
in his gallantry, would by no means allow, until they had par-
taken of some bread and cheese and porter ; 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 peti-
tions 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 Tod-
gers's \ remarking that he knew they would rather walk thither
than ride \ and that for his part he was quite of their opinion.

"Good-night," said Anthony, "Good-night; remember
me to — ha, ha, ha ! — 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 quarrel-
ling for /«';;/ ! You may take him, Cherry, my love, all to your-
self. I make you a present of my share."

" What ! I'm a sour grape, am I, cousin ? " said Jonas.

Miss Charity was more entertained by this repartee than
one would have supposed likely, considering its advanced age
and simple character. But in her sisterly affection she took
Mr. Jonas to task for leaning so very hard upon a broken
reed, and said that he must not be so cruel to poor Merr}' any
more, or she (Charity) would positively be obliged to hate him.
Mercy, who really had her share of good humor, only retorted
with a laugh ; and they walked home in consequence without
any angry passage of words upon the way. Mr. Jonas being
in the middle and having a cousin on each arm, sometimes
squeezed the WTong one ; so tightly 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 they arrived at Tod-
gers's, and the door was opened, Mercy broke hastily from
them, and ran up stairs ; but Charity and Jonas lingered on
the steps talking together for more than five minutes ; so, as

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

191

Mrs. Todgers observed next morning, to a third party, " It
was pretty clear what was going on there, and she was glad of
it, for it really was high time Miss Pecksniff thought of set-
tling."

And now the day was coming on, when that bright vision
which had burst on Todgers's so suddenly, and made a sun-
shine in the 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 gentleman, or any other
dull reality of life, in a stage-coach, and carried down into the
country !

" Never, my dear Miss Pecksniffs," said Mrs. Todgers,
when they retired to rest on the last night of their stay ;
" never have I seen an establishment so perfectly broken-
hearted as mine Is at this present moment of time.' I don't
believe the gentlemen will be the gentlemen they were, or any-
thing 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 dis-
astrous state of things, and regretted it veiy much.

" Your pious Pa, too," said Mrs. Todgers. " There's a
loss ! My dear Miss Pecksniffs, your Pa is a perfect mission-
ary of peace and love."

Entertaining an uncertainty as to the particular kind of
love supposed to be comprised in Mr. Pecksniff's mission, the
young ladies received the compliment rather coldly.

" If I dared," said Mrs. Todgers, perceiving this, " to vio-
late a confidence which has been reposed 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 in-
terested. 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 lY'cksniffs," said the lady of
the house ; "my own loves, if you will allow mc the privilege
of taking that freedom on the eve of our separation, Mr. Jin-
kins and the gentlemen have made up a little musical parly
among themselves, and do intend, in the dead of this night to
perform a serenade upon the stairs outside the door. I could
have wished, I own," said Mrs. Todgers, with her usual fore-
sight, " 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're not so musical perhaps, as when they

1^2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

don't. But this is the arrangement ; and I know you will be
gratified, my dear ]\Iiss Pecksniffs, by 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, un-
til the serenade was over. But half an hour of cool waiting;
so altered their opmion that they not only went to bed, but
fell asleep ; and were moreover not ecstatically charmed to be
awakened some time afterwards by certain dulcet strains
breaking in upon the silent watches of the night.

It was very effecting, veiy. Nothing more dismal could
have been desired bv the most fastidious taste. The gentle-
man of a vocal turn was head mute, or chief mourner ; Jin-
kins took the bass ; and the rest took anything they could get.
The youngest gentleman blew his melancholy into a flute. He
didn't blow much out of it, but that was all the better. If the
two Miss Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers had perished by spon-
taneous combustion, and the serenade had been in honor of
their ashes, it would have been impossible to surpass the un-
utterable despair expressed in that one 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 sor-
rowful and hideous in sound. The flute of the youngest
gentleman was wild and fitful. 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. Todgers and
the young ladies, that, overcome by his feelings, he had retired
in tears, he unexpectedly turned up again at the \qx\ top of
the tune, gasping for breath. He was a tremendous performer.
There was no knowuig where to ha\e him ; and exactly when
you thought he was doing nothing at all, then was he doing
the very thing that ought to astonish you most.

There were several of these concerted pieces ; perhaps
two or three too many, though that, as Mrs. Todgers said, was
a fault on the right side. But even then, even at that solemn
moment, when the thrilling 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.
Pie asked him distinctly, before the second song began — as a
personal favor too, mark the villain in that — not to play.
Yes ; he said so ; not to play. The breathing of the youngest
gentleman was heard through the key-hole of the door. He
didn't play. What vent was a flute for the passions swelling

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 93

up within his breast ? A trombone would have been a world
too mild.

The serenade approached its close. Its crowning interest
was at hand. The gentleman of a literary turn had written a
song on the departure of the ladies, and adapted it to an old
tune. They all joined, except the youngest gentleman in
company, who, for the reasons aforesaid, maintained a fearful
silence. The song (which was of a classical nature) invoked
the oracle of Apollo, and demanded to know what would be-
come of Todgers's when Charity and Mercy were banished
from its walls. The oracle delivered no opinion particularly
worth remembering, according to the not infrequent practice
of oracles from the earliest ages down to the present time. In
the absence of enjightenment on that subject, the strain de-
serted it, and went on to show that the Miss Pecksniffs were
nearly related to Rule Britannia, and that if Great Britain
hadn't been an island, there could have been no Miss Peck-
sniffs. And being now on a nautical tack, it closed with this

verse ;

" All hail to tlie vessel of Pecksniff the sire !
And favoring breezes to fan ;
While Tritons flock round 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 repose.

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, packing up, and treated them to
an imitation of the voice of a young dog, in trying circum-
stances : when that animal is supposed by persons of a lively
fancy, to relieve his feelings by calling for pen and ink.

" Well, young ladies," said the }'outh, " so you're agoing
home, are you, worse luck ? "

" Yes, Bailey, we're going home," returned Mercy.

"A'nt you a going to leave none of 'em a lock of your
hair ? " inquired the youth. " It's real, a'nt 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. Hers an't. Why, I see it hanging up once, on
that nail by the winder. Besides, I have gone behind her at
dinner-time and pulled it ; and she never know'd. I say,

^3

194

MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT.

young ladies, I'm a going to leave. I ain'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 intimated that he thought
of going, either into top-boots, or into the army.

" Into the army ! " cried the young ladies, with a laugh.

" Ah ! " said Bailey, "why not? There's a many drum-
mers in the Tower. I'm acquainted with 'em. Don't their
country set a valley on 'em, mind you ! Not at all ! "

"You'll be shot, I see," observed Mercy.

" Well ! " cried Mr. Bailey, " Wot if I am ? There's some-
thing gamey in it, young ladies, a'nt there ? I'd sooner be hit
with a connon-ball than a rolling pin, and she's always a
catching up something of that sort, and throwing it at me, wen
the gentlemans appetites is good. Wot," said Mr. Bailey,
stung by the recollection of his wrongs, " wot, if they do con-
sume the per-vishuns. It an't m' fault, is it ? "

" Surely no one says it is," said Mercy.

"Don't they though ?" retorted the youth. "No. Yes.
Ah ! Oh ! No one mayn't say it is ! but some one knows it
is. But I an't a going to have 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, relenting
into a smile, " wotever yQu mean to giv^e me, 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, /
know."

The young ladies, on behalf of Mr. Pecksniff and them-
selves, acted on this thoughtful advice ; and in consideration
of their private friendship, presented Mr. Bailey w*ith a gratu-
ity so liberal, that he could hardly do enough to show his
gratitude ; which found but an imperfect vent, during the
remainder of the day, in divers secret slaps upon his pocket,
and other such facetious pantomime. Nor was it contined to
these ebullitions ; for besides crushing a bandbox, with a
bonnet in it, he seriously damaged Mr. Pecksniff's luggage,
by ardently hauling it down from the top of the house ; and
in short evinced, by every means in his jDower, a lively sense
of the favors he had received from that gentleman and his
family.

Mr. Pecksniff and Mr. Jinkins came home to dinner, arm-
in-arm ; for the latter gentleman had made half-holiday, on
purpose ; thus gaining an immense advantage over the young-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

'95

est gentleman and the rest, whose time, as it perversely
chanced, was all bespoke, until the evening. The bottle of
wine was Mr. Pecksniff's treat, and they were very sociable
indeed ; though full of lamentations on the necessity of part-
ing. VVhile 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 Jinkins.

"Come to say good bye, you see," said Anthony, 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 you and me ? VVe are the two
halves of a pair of scissors, when apart, Pecksniff ; but to-
gether we are something. Eh .'' "

" Unanimity, .my good sir," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff, " is
always delightful."

" I don't know about that," said the old man, " for there
are some people I would rather differ 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. " Complimentary, upon
my word. It was an involuntar}' 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, quite ! " assented Mr. Pecksniff, in a manner which
implied that he himself was misunderstood most cruelly, but
would not complain.

Anthony glanced at his son as he sat besides Miss Charity,
and then at Mr. Pecksniff, and then at his son again, very
many times. It happened that Mr. Pecksniff's glances took
a similar direction ; but when he became aware of it, he first
cast down his eyes, and then closed them ; as if he were de-
termined that the old man should read nothing 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 doul)t," returned Mr. Pecksniff.

" Lookye ! " said Anthony in his ear. " 1 think he is sweet
upon your daughter."

" Tut, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his eyes still

ig6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

closed ; " young people, young people. A kind of cousins,
too. No more sweetness than is in that, sir."

" Why, there is very little sweetness in that, according to
our experience," returned Anthony, " Isn't there a trifle
more here .-' "

" Impossible to say," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff. " Quite im-
possible ! You surprise me."

" Yes, I know that," said the old man, dr}-ly. " It may
last \ I mean the sweetness, not the surprise ; and it may die
off. Supposing it should last, perhaps (you having feathered
your nest pretty well, and I having done the same) we might
have a mutual interest in the matter."

Mr. Pecksniff, smiling gently, was about to speak, but
Anthony stopped him.

" I know what you are going to say. It's quite unneces-
sary. You have never thought of this for a moment ; and in
a point so nearly affecting the happiness of your dear child,
you couldn't as a tender father, express 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 up the joke of pretending not
to see this, one of us might possibly be placed in a position of
disadvantage ; and as I am very unwilling to be that party
myself, you will excuse my taking the liberty of putting the
matter beyond a doubt, thus early ; 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
footing : 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 sitting : leaving that good man somewhat puzzled and
discomfited by such ver)' plain dealing, and not quite free
from a sense of having been foiled in the exercise of his
familiar weapons.

But the night-coach had a punctual character, and it was
time to join it at the office ; which was so near at hand, that
they had already sent their luggage, and arranged to walk.
Thither the whole party repaired, therefore, after no more 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 commercial gentlemen, including the youngest, who was
visibly agitated, and in a state of deep mental dejection.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 197

Nothing could equal the distress of Mrs. Todgers in
parting from the young ladies, except the strong emotions with
which she bade adieu to Mr. Pecksniff. Never surely was a
pocket-handkerchief taken 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 commercial
gentleman : and by the light of the coach-lamps caught such
brief snatches and glimpses of the good man's face, as the
constant interposition of Mr. Jinkins allowed. For Jinkins,
to the last the youngest gentleman's rock a-head in life, stood
upon the coach-step talking to the ladies. Upon the other
step was Mr. Jonas, who maintained that position in right of
his cousinship; whereas the youngest gentleman, who had
been first upon 1,he 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 hea\-y baggage.
This false position, combined with his nervous excitement,
brought about the very consummation and catastrophe of his
miseries ; for when in the moment of parting, he aimed a
flower, a hot-house flower, that had cost money, at tlie fair
hand of Mercy, it reached, instead, the coachman on the box,
who thanked him kind]}^ 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, re-
signed themselves to their own regretful thoughts. Rut Mr.
Pecksniff, dismissing all ephemeral considerations of social
pleasure and enjoyment, concentrated his meditations on the
one great virtuous purpose before him, of casting out that
ingrate and deceiver, whose presence yet troubled his domestic
hearth, and was a sacrilege upon the altars of his household
gods.

198

MARTIN cnrzzLEivir.

CHAPTER XII.

WILL BE SEEN IN THE LONG RUN, IF NOT IN THE SHORT
ONE, TO CONCERN MR. PINCH AND OTHERS, NEARLY.
MR. PECKSNIFF ASSERTS THE DIGNITY OF OUTRAGED VIR-
TUE. YOUNG MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT FORMS A DESPERATE
RESOLUTION.

Mr. Pinch and Martin, little dreaming of the stormy wea-
ther that impended, made themselves very comfortable in the
Pecksniffian halls, and improved their friendship daily. Mar-
tin's facility, both of invention and execution, being remarka-
ble, the grammar-school proceeded with great vigor ; and Tom
repeatedly declared, that if there were anything like certainty
in human affairs, or impartiality in human judges, a design so
new and full of merit could not fail to carry off the first prize
when the time of competition arrived. Without being quite
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 architect, Tom," said the
new pupil one day, as he stood at a little distance from his
drawing, and eyed it with much complacency, " I'll tell you
what should be one of the things I'd build."

" Ay ! " cried Tom. " What ? "

" Why, your fortune."

" No ! " said Tom Pinch, quite as much delighted as if
the thing were done. " W'ould you though .-' How kind of
you to say so."

" I'd build it up, Tom," returned Martin, " on such a strong
foundation, that it should last your life — ay, and your chil-
dren's lives too, and their children's after them. I'd be your
patron, Tom. I'd take you under my protection. Let me see
the man who should give the cold shoulder to anybody I
chose to protect and patronize, if I were at the top of the tree,
Tom ! "

"Now, I don't think," said Mr. Pinch, "upon my word,
that I was ever more gratified than by this. I really don't."

" Oh ! I mean what I say," retorted Martin, with a man-
ner as free and easy in its condescension to, not to say in its
compassion for, the other, as if he were alread}- First Architect

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

199

in Ordinary to all the Crowned Heads in Europe. " I'd do it.
I'd provide for you."

" I am afraid," said Tom, shaking his head, " that I should
be a mighty awkward person to provide for."

" Pooh, pooh ! " rejoined Martin. " Never mind that. If
I took it in my head to say, ' Pinch is a clever fellow \ I ap-
prove of Pinch ; ' I should like to know the man who would
venture to put himself in opposition to me. Besides, con-
found 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 that my ideas were
properly carried out ; and to overlook the works in their pro-
gress before they were sufficiently advanced to be very inter-
esting to me ; and to take all that sort of plain sailmg. Then
you'd be a splendid fellow to show people over my studio, and
to talk about Art to 'em when I couldn't be bored myself, and
all that kind of thing. For it would be devilish creditable,
Tom (I'm quite in earnest, I give you my word), to have a
man of your information about one, instead of some ordinary
blockhead. Oh, I'd take care of you. You'd be useful, rely
upon it ! "

To say that Tom had no idea of playing first fiddle in any
social orchestra, but was always quite satisfied to be set down
for the hundred and fiftieth violin in the band, or thereabouts,
is to express his modesty in very inadequate terms. He was
much delighted, therefore, by these observations.

" I 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 : bringing the blood into his
honest cheeks, and a remorseful feeling to his honest heart, as
if he were unworthy of his friend's regard ?

" I should be married to her then," said Martin, looking
with a smile towards 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 found a life more spirtual in
self-denying thoughts.

"All the children hereabouts arc fond of you, Tom, and
mine would be, of course," pursued Martin. " Perhaps I

2 00 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

might name one of 'em after you. Tom, eh ? Well, I don't
know. Tom's not a bad name. Thomas Pinch Chuzzlewit.
T. P. C. on his pinafores. No objection to that, I should
sav."

Tom cleared his throat, and smiled.

" She would like you, Tom, 1 know," said Martin.

" Aye ! " 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 ; " J know
her so well. She would smile, Tom, often at first when you
spoke to her, or when she looked at you — merrily too — but you
wouldn't mind that. A brighter smile you never saw."

" No, no," said Tom. " I wouldn't mind that."

"She would be as tender with you, Tom," said Martin,
*' as if you were a child yourself. So you are almost, in some
things, an't you, Tom 1 "

Mr. Pinch nodded his entire assent.

" She would always be kind and good-humored, 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
would pretend to give you little commissions to execute, and
to ask little services of you, which she knew you were burning
to render ; so that when she really pleased you most, she
would try to make you think you most pleased her. She would
take to you uncommonly, Tom ; and would understand you
far more delicately than I ever shall ; and would often say, I
know, that you were a harmless, gentle, well-intentioned, good
fellow."

How silent Tom Pinch was !

" In honor of old times," said Martin, " and of her having
heard you play the organ in this damp little church down here
— for nothing too — we will have one in the house. I shall
build an architectural music-room 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 shall h' 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 serenity and grateful feehng painted
on his face ; it may have required a stronger effort to perform

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 20i

this simple act with a pure heart, than to achieve many and
many a deed to which the douI:)tful trumpet l)lown by Fame
has lustily resounded. Doubtful, because from its long hover-
ing over scenes of violence, the smoke and steam of death
have clogged the keys of that brave instrvmient ; and it is not
always that its notes are either true or tuneful.

"It's a proof of the kindness of human nature," said Tom,
characteristically putting himself quite out of sight in the mat-
ter, " that everybody who comes here, as you have done, is
more considerate and affectionate to me than I should have
any right to hope, if 1 were the most sanguine creature in the
world ; or should have 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."

" That'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 heard 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."

" Westlock," rejoined Tom, in rather a louder tone than
usual.

" Ah ! 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 Tom,
nodding his head, and smiling.

" He's a lucky dog," said Martin. " I wish it were mine
instead. Is that all the mystery you were to tell me ? "

"No," said Tom: not all."

" What's 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 veiy pleasant to me.
John always used to say when he was here, ' Mark my words,
Pinch. When my father's executors cash up ' — he used strange
expressions now and then, but that was his way."

" Cash-up's a very good expression," observed Martin,
"when other people don't apply it to you. Well? What a
slow fellow you are, Pinch ! ''

202 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Yes, I am I know," said Tom ; " but you'll make me
nervous if you tell me so. I'm afraid you have put me out a
little now, for I forget what I was going to say."

" When John's father's executors cashed up," said Martin
impatiently.

"Oh yes, to be sure," cried Tom; "yes. 'Then,' says
John, ' I'll give you a dinner, Pinch, and come down to Salis-
bury on purpose.' Now, when John wrote the other day —
the morning Pecksniff left, you know — he said his business
was on the point of being immediately settled, and as he was
to receive his money directly, when could I meet him at Salis-
bury- } I wrote and said, any day this week ; and I told him
besides, that there was a new pupil here, and what a fine
fellow you were, and what friends we had become. Upon
which John writes back this letter " — Tom produced it — "fixes
to-morrow ; sends his compliments to you ; and begs that we
three may have the pleasure 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 with his cus-
tomary coolness : " much obliged to him. Vm agreeable.' '

Tom could have wished him to be a little more astonished,
a little more pleased, or in some form or other a little more
interested m such a great event. But he was perfectly self-
possessed : and falling into his favorite solace of whistling,
took another turn at the grammar-school, as if nothing at all
had happened.

Mr. Pecksniff's horse being regarded in the light of a sacred
animal, only to be driven by him, the chief priest of that temple,
or by some person distinctly nominated for the time being to
that high office by himself, the two young men agreed to walk
to Salisbury ; and so, when the time came, they set off on
foot ; which was, after all, a better mode of travelling than in
the gig, as the weather 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 1 Why, the two
things "will not admit of comparison. It is an insult to the
walk, to set them side by side. Where is an instance of a gig
having ever circulated a man's blood, unless wnen, putting him
in danger of 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 sharpen anybody's wits

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 2 03

and energies, unless it was when the horse bolted, and, crash-
ing madly down a steep hill with a stone wall at the bottom,
his desperate circumstances suggested to the onl}^ gentleman
left inside, some novel and unheard-of mode of dropping out
behind ? Better than the gig !

The air was cold, Tom ; so it was, there was no denying
it ; but would it have been more genial in the gig ? The black-
smith's fire burned very brignt, and leaped up high, as though
it wanted men to warm ; but would it have been less tempting,
looked at from the clantmy cushions of a gig ? The wind blew
keenly, nipping the features of the hardy wight who fought his
way along ; blinding him with his own hair if he had enough
of it, and wintry dust if he hadn't ; stopping his breath as
though he had b,een soused in a cold bath ; tearing aside his
wrappings-up, and whistling m the ver\' marrow of his bones \
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 !

Better than the gig ! When were travellers by wheels and
hoofs seen with such red-hot cheeks as those ? when were
they so good humoredly and merrily bloused ? when did their
laughter ring upon the air, as they turned them round, what
time the stronger gviests 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 with, but the high
spirits it engendered ? Better than the gig ! Why, here is a
man in a gig coming the same way now. Look at him as he
passes his whip into his left hand, chafes his numbed right
fingers on his granite leg, and beats those marble toes of his
upon the foot-board. Ha, ha, 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 such
interest in the 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 flight
in darkening 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 winter's day, how beautiful the
shadows are ! x^las ! it is the nature of their kind to be so.
The loveliest things in life, Tom. are but shadows ; and they
come and go, and change and fade away, as 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

2 04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

wind, a blot of ink upon tlie landscape. But though it drives
and drifts against them as they walk, stiffening on their skirts,
and freezing in the lashes of their eyes, they wouldn't have it
fall more sparingly, no, not so much as by a single flake, al-
though they had to go a score of miles. And, lo ! the towers
of the Old Cathedral rise before them, even now ! and by and
by they come into the sheltered streets, made strangely silent
by their white carpet ; and so to the Inn for which they are
bound ; where they present such flushed and burning faces to
the cold waiter, and are so brimful 6f vigor, that he almost
feels assaulted by their presence ; and, having nothing to op-
pose to the attack (being fresh, or rather stale, from the
blazing fire in the coffee-room), is quite put out of his pale
countenance.

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, developing cold fowls and noble joints,
and tarts wherein the raspberr\' jam coyly withdrew itself, as
such a precious creature should, behind a lattice 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 sih^er
and glass enough for thirty — John Westlock ! Not the old
John of Pecksniff's, but a proper gentleman ; looking another
and a grander person, with the consciousness of being his own
master and having money in the bank : and yet in some re-
spects the old John too, for he seized Tom Pinch by both his
hands the instant he appeared, and fairly hugged him, in his
cordial welcome.

" And this," said John, " is Mr. Chuzzlewit. I am very
glad to see him! " John had an off-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 arm's 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 me," cried John \ " and so it ought to
seem to you, you dog." And then he pushed Tom down into
the easiest chair, and clapped him on the back so heartily, and
so like his old self in their old bed-room at old Pecksniff's that

MARTIX CIIUZZLEIVIT. 205

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 ? "

" Everything. Don't laugh, if you can help it, before the
waiters. / couldn't when 1 was ordering it. It's like a
dream."

John was wrong there, because nobody ever dreamed such
soup as was put upon the table directly afterwards ; or such
fish J or such side-dishes ; or such a top and bottom ; or such
a course of birds and sweets ; or in short anything approach-
ing the reality of that entertainment at ten-and-sixpence a head,
exclusive of win.ps. As to them, the man who can dream such
iced champagne, such claret, port, or sl^erry, had better go to
bed and stop there.

JJut perhaps the finest feature of the banquet was, that
nobody was half so much amazed by every thing as John him-
self, who in his high delight, was constantly bursting into
fits of laughter, and then endeavoring to appear preternatur-
ally 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 impossible
to stand it ; and when Tom Pinch insisted, in spite of the de-
ferential advice of an attendant, not only breaking down the
outer wall of a raised pie with a tablespoon, but on trying to
eat it afterwards, John lost 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 demonstrated when
they had all three gathered round the fire, and the dessert
was on the table ; at which period, the head waiter inquired
with respectful solicitude whether that port, being a light and
tawny wine, was suited to his taste, or whether he would wisii
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 vintage : for
which the waiter thanked him and withdrew. And then John
told his friends, with a broad grin, that he supposed it was all
right, but he didn't know ; and went off into a perfect shout.

They were very merry and full of enjoyment the whole
time, but not the least pleasant part of the festival was when
they all three sat about the fire, cracking nuts, drinking wine,

2o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

and talking cheerfully. It happened that Tom Pinch had a
word to say to his friend the organist's assistant, and so de-
serted his warm corner for a few minutes at this season, lest
it should grow too late ; leaving the other two young men
together.

They drank his health in his absence, of course ; and John
Westlock took that opportunity of saying, that he had never
had even a peevish word with Tom during the whole term
of their residence in Mr. Pecksniff's house. This naturally
led him to dwell upon Tom's character, and to hint that Mr.
Pecksniff understood it pretty well. He only hinted this, and
very distantly : knowing that it pained Tom Pinch to have
that gentleman disparaged, and thinking it would be as well
to leave the new pupil to his own discoveries.

" Yes," said Mactin. " It's impossible to like Pinch
better than I do, or to do greater justice to his good qualities.
He is the most willing fellow I ever saw."

" He's rather too willing," observed John, who was quick
in observation. " It's quite a fault in him."

" So It is," said Martin. " Very true. There was a fellow
only a week or so ago — a Mr. Tigg — who borrowed all the
money he had, on a promise to repay it in a few days. It
was but half a sovereign, to be sure ; but it's well it was no
more, for he'll never see it again."

" Poor fellow ! " said John, who had been very attentive to
these few words. " Perhaps you have not had an opportunity
of observing that, in his own pecuniary transactions, Tom's
proud."

" You don't say so ! No, I haven't. What do you mean ?
Won't he borrow ? "

John Westlock shook his head.

" That's very odd," said Martin, setting down his empty
glass. " He's a strange compound, to be sure."

"As to receiving money as a gift," resumed John West-
lock ; " I think he'd die first."

" He's made up of simplicity," said Martin. " Help
yourself."

" You, however," pursued John, filling his own glass, and
looking at liis companion with some curiosity, "who are older
than the majority of Mr. Pecksniff's assistants, and have evi-
dently had much more experience, understand him, I have no
doubt, and see how liable he is to be imposed upon.

"Certainly," said Marun, stretching out his legs, and

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 207

holding his wine between his eye and the light. " Mr. Peck-
sniff knows that too. So do his daughters. Eh ? "

John Westlock smiled, but made no answer.

" By 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 ? Coolly, 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, 1 assure you-"

" No, no," said Martin, " I'd rather have them from you.

"But Pinch says they are unjust," urged John with a
smile.

" Oh ! well ? ,. Then I know what course they take before
hand," said Martin ; " and, therefore, you can have no deli-
cacy in speaking plainly. Don't mind me, I beg. I don't
like him, I tell you frankly. I am with him because it happens
from particular circumstances to suit my convenience. I have
some ability, I believe, in that way ; and the obligation, if any,
will most 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 mc, as \i 1 had no connection with
him."

" If you press me to give my opinion " — returned John
Westlock.

" Yes, I do," said 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
called upon me to express my opinion of him to his face, I
would do so in the very same terms, without the least qualiii-
cation. His treatment of Pinch is in itself enough to justify
them ; but when I look back upon the five years I passed in
that house, and remember the hypocrisy, the knavery, the
meannesses, the false pretences, the lip service of that fellow,
and his trading in saintly semblances for the very worst
realities ; when I remember how often I was the witness of
all this, and how often I was made a kind of party to it, by
the fact of being there, with him for my teacher ; 1 swear to
you, that I almost despise myself."

Martin drained his glass, and looked at the fire.

2o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I don't mean to say, that is a right feeUng," pursued
John Westlock, " because it was no fault of mine ; and I can
quite understand — you, for instance, fully appreciating him,
and yet being forced by circumstances to remain there. I tell
you simply what my feeling is, and even now, when, as you
say, it's all over ; and when I have the satisfaction of knowing
that he always hated me, and we always quarrelled, and I
always told him my mind ; even now, I feel sorry that I didn't
yield to an impulse I often had, as a boy, of running away
from him and going abroad."

" Why abroad ? " asked Martin, turning his eyes upon the
speaker.

" In search," replied John Westlock, shrugging his
shoulders, " of the livelihood I couldn't have earned at home.
There would have been something spirited in that. But,
come ! Fill your glass, and let us forget him."

" As soon as you please," said Martin. " In reference to
myself and my connection with him, I have only to repeat
what I said before. I have taken my own way with him so
far, and shall continue to do so, even more than ever ; for 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 first going there. 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 fortunate youth, born under an auspicious star,"
returned John Westlock, laughing ; " whose parents, or guard-
ians, are destined to be hooked 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 news-
paper. I know it to be his ; having some reason to remember
the style. Hush ! Here's Pinch. 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 enjoyment."

Tom entered as the words were spoken, with a radiant
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 only Tom Pinch could be. There is no other simile
that will express his state of mind.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2og

" 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 sure ! "

" Trying to be, Tom ; trying to be," he rejoined good-
humoredly. " There is no sa}'ing what I may turn out, in
time."

",I suppose you wouldn't carry your own box to the mail
now ? " said Tom Pinch, smiling : " although you lost it alto-
gether 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 told you so.
The great fault in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff.
You mustn't mind a word he says on that subject. His
prejudice is most 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 proper colors, Tom
has that knowledge of Mr, Pecksniff,"

"Why, of course I have," cried Tom. "That's exactly
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. Oh, how you wounded his feelings when you went
away ! "

" If I 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 lias not, and in what he knows nothing of,
except in his ability to prol^e 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 discussion which
might possibly corrupt Martin, fore bore to say anything in re-
ply to this speech ; but John Westlock, whom nothing short of
an iron gag would have silenced wdien Mr. Pecksniff's merits
were once in question, continued nothwithstanding.

" i^/i- feelings ! Oh, he's a tender-hearted man. ///.<• feel-
ings ! Oh, he's a considerate, conscientious, self-exami.iing,
moral vagabond, he is ! His feelings ! Oh ! — what's the mat-
ter, Tom .? " 14

2IO MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug,
buttoning his coat with great energy.

" I can't bear it," said Tom, shaking his head. " 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 perfectly cliarmed and over-joyed to-day, to find
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 ex-
cuse me John. I cannot, really ; I will not. It's very wrong ;
you should be more guarded 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 can-
not, indeed."

*' You are quite right ! " exclaimed the other, exchanging
looks with Martin ; " and I quite wrong, Tom. I don't know
how the deuce we fell on this unlucky theme. I beg your par-
don with all my heart."

" You have a free and manly temper, I know," said Pinch ;
" and therefore, your being so ungenerous in this one solitary
instance, only grieves me the more. It's not my pardon you
have to ask, John. You have done me nothing but kindnesses."

"Well! Pecksniff's pardon, then," said young Westlock.
" Anything, Tom, or anybody. Pecksniff's pardon. Will that
do .'' Here ! let us drink Pecksniff's health ! "

"Thank you," cried Tom, shaking hands with him eagerly,
and filling a bumper. " Thank you ; I'll drink it with all my
heart, John. Mr. Pecksniff's health, and prosperity to him ! "

John Westlock echoed the sentiment, or nearly so ; for he
drank Mr Pecksniff's health, and something to him : but what,
was not quite audible. The general unanimity being then
completely restored, they drew their chairs closer round the
fire, and conversed in perfect harmony and enjoyment until
bed-time.

No slight circumstance, perhaps, could have better illus-
trated the difference of character between 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 pupil could not do enough to show Tom how cordially
he felt towards him, and his friendly regard seemed of a graver

I

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 i £

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 extreme absurdity ; and mingled with his amuse-
ment there was something slighting and contemptuous, indi-
cative, as it appeared, of his opinion that Mr Pinch was much
too far gone iu simplicity, to be admitted as the friend, on seri-
ous and equal terms, of any rational 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 evening, they retired.- Mr. Pinch was
sitting on the side of his bed with his cravat and shoes off,
ruminating on the manifold good qualities of his old friend,
when he was interrupted by a knock at his chamber door, and
the voice of Johi> himself.

" You are not asleep yet, are you, Tom ? "

" Bless you, no ! not I, I was thinking of you," replied
Tom, opening the door. " Come in."

"I am not going to detain you," said John ; "but I have
forgotten all the evening a little commission I took upon my
self ; and I am afraid I may forget it again, if 1 fail to dis-
charge it at once. You know a Mr. Tigg, Tom, I believe ? "

" Tigg ! " cried Tom. " Tigg ! The gentleman who bor^
rowed some money of me ? "

" Exactly," said John Westlock. " He begged me to pre-
sent his compliments, and to return it with many thanks.
Here it is. I suppose it's a good one, but he is rather a doubt-
ful kind of customer, Tom."

Mr. Pinch 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 honorable in his dealings ; ver)' glad.

"Why, to tell you the truth, Tom," replied his friend, "he
is not always so. If you '11 take my advice, you'll avoid him
as much as you can, in the 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 ! " said Tom, with his eyes wide open.

" He is very far from being a reputable acquaintance," re-
turned young Westlock ; " and the more you let him know
you think so, the better for you, Tom."

" I say, John," quoth Mr. Pinch, as his countenance ffll,
and he shook his head in a dejected manner, " 1 hope you
are not getting into bad company."

212 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

*' No, no," he replied laughing. " Don't be uneasy on
that score."

" Oh but I am uneasy," said Tom Pinch ; " I can't help it,
Avhen I hear you talking in that way.' If Mr. Tigg is what
you describe him to be, you have no business to know him,
John. You may laugh, but I don't consider 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 know, John," said Mr. Pinch, " your very good na-
ture and kindness of heart make you thoughtless ; and you
can't be too careful on such a point as this. Upon my word,
if 1 thought you were falling among bad companions, i should
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
terms."

" I tell you, my dear good old fellow," cried his friend, shak-
ing him to and fro with both hands, and smiling at him
with a cheerful, open countenance, that M'ould have car-
ried conviction to a mind much more suspicious than Tom's ;
*' I tell you there is no danger."

" Well ! " cried Tom, " I am glad to hear it ; I am over-
joyed to hear it. I am sure there is not, when you say so in
that manner. You won't take it ill, John, that I said what I
did iust now ! "

" 111 ! " said the other, giving his hand a hearty squeeze ;
" why what do you think I am made of .'' Mr. Tigg and I are
not on such an intimate footing that you need be at all un-
easy, I give you my solemn assurance of that, Tom. You are
quite comfortable now .'' "

" Quite," said Tom.

"Then once more, good-night ! "

" Good-night !" cried Tom ;" and such pleasant dreams
to you, as should attend the sleep of the best fellow in the
world ! "

" — 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 Westlock full of
light-heartedness and good humor, and poor Tom Pinch quite
satisfied ; though still, as he turned over on his side in bed,

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 1 3

he muttered to 'himself, " I really do wish, for all that,
though, that he wasn't acquainted with Mr. Tigg."

They breakfasted together very early next morning, for the
two young men desired to get back again in good season ; and
John Westlock was to return to London by the coach that
day. As he had some hours to spare, he bore them company
for three or four miles on their walk, and only parted from
them at last in sheer necessity. The parting was an unusually
hearty one, not only as between him and Tom Pinch, but on
the side of Martin also, who had found in the old pupil a very
dil^erent sort of person from the milksop he had prepared
himself to expect.

Young Westlock stopped upon a rising ground, when he
had gone a little distance, and looked back. They were walk-
ing at a brisk pace, and Tom appeared to be talking earnestly.
Martin had taken off his great-coat, the wind being now be-
hind them, and carried it upon his arm. As he looked, he
saw Tom relieve him of it, after a faint resistance, and, throw-
ing it upon his own, encumber 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, as if he were troubled by
some uneasy reflection, and thoughtfully retraced his steps to
Salisbury.

In the meantime, Martin and Tom pursued their way, until
they halted, safe and sound, at Mr. Pecksniff's house, where a
brief epistle from that good gentleman to Mr. Pinch, an-
nounced the family'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-post about that time, together with a cart
for the luggage. And to the end that he might be received
with the greater honor, the young men agreed to rise early,
and be upon the spot themselves.

It was the least cheerful day they had yet passed together.
Martin was out of spirits and out of humor, and took ever}'
opportunity of comparing his condition and prospects with
those of young Westlock : much to his own disadvantage
always. This mood of his depressed Tom : and neither that
morning's parting, nor yesterday's dinner, 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 get up again at half-past

214 MARTIN CIJUZZLEWIT.

four o'clock, in all the shivering discomfort of a dark winter's
morning ; but they turned out punctually, and were at the
finger-post full iialf-an-hour before the appointed time. It
was not by any means a lively morning, for the sky was 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. Pecksniff's Arab steed) getting very wet ; and that
he rejoiced, on his account, that it rained so fast. From this
it may be inferred, that Martin's spirits had not improved, as
mdeed they had not ; for while he and Mr. Pinch stood wait-
ing under a hedge, looking at the rain, the gig, the cart, and
Its reeking driver, he did nothing but grumble , and, but that
it is indispensable to any dispute that there should be two
parties to it, he would certainly have picked a quarrel with
Tom.

At length the noise of wheels was faintly audible in the
distance, and presently the coach came splashing through the
mud and mire, with one miserable outside passenger crouch-
ing down among wet straw, under a saturated umbrella ; and
the coachman, guard, and horses, in a fellowship of dripping
wretchedness. Immediately on its stopping, 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. Chuzzle-
wit and I, sir."

" Oh ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, looking, not so much at Martin
as at the spot on which he stood. " Oh ! Indeed ! Do me
the favor to see to the trunks, if you please, Mr. Pinch."

Then Mr. Pecksniff descended, and helped his daughters
to alight ; but neither he nor the young ladies took the
slightest notice of Martin, who had advanced to offer his
assistance, but was repulsed by Mr. Pecksniff's standing
immediately before his person, with his back towards him. In
the same manner, and in profound silence, Mr. Pecksniff
handed his daughters into the gig ; and following himself and
taking the reins, drove off home.

Lost in astonishment, Martin stood staring at the coach,
and when the coach had driven awav, at Mr. Pinch and the
luggage, until the cart moved off too ; when he said to Tom :

" Now will you have the goodness to tell me what this
portends .'' "•

" What ? " asked Tom.

MA A' TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

215

" This fellow's behavior. Mr. Pecksniff's, I mean. You
saw it t "

" No. Indeed 1 did not," cried Tom. " I was busy with
the trunks."

" It is no matter," said Martin. "Come! Let us make
haste back." And without another word he started off at
such a pace, that Tom had some difficulty in keeping up with
him.

He had no care where he went, but walked through little
heaps of mud and little pools of water with the utmost in-
difference ; looking straight before him,, and sometimes laugh-
ing in a strange manner within himself. Tom felt that anything
he could say would only render him the more obstinate, and
therefore trusted to Mr. Pecksniff's manner when they
reached the house, to remove the mistaken impression under
which he felt convinced so great a favorite as the new pupil
must unquestionably be laboring. But he was not a little
amazed himself, \vhen they did reach it, and entered the
parlor where Mr. Pecksniff' was sitting alone before the fire,
drinking some hot tea, to find, that instead of taking favorable
notice of his relative, and keeping him, Mr. Pinch, in the
background, he did exactly the reverse, and was so lavish in
his attentions to Tom, that Tom was thoroughly confounded.

"Take some tea, Mr. Pinch, take some tea," said Peck-
sniff, stirring the fire. " You must be very cold and damp.
Pray take some tea, 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 opposite that gentleman at the table, regarded him
attentively.

" Take a chair, Pinch," said Pecksniff. "Take a chair, if
you please. How have things gone on in our absence, Mr.
Pinch ? "

" You — you will be very much pleased with the griunmar
school, sir," said Tom. " It's nearly finished."

" If you will have the goodness, Mr. Pinch," said Peck-
sniff, waving his hand and smiling, "we will not discuss any-
thing 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

2 1 6 ^''^■^ A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

interval, Mr. Pecksniff (who was perfectly conscious of
Martin's gaze, though he had never once glanced towards
him) poked the fire very much, and when he couldn't do that
any more, drank tea assiduously.

" Now, Mr. Pecksniff," said Martin at last, in a very quiet
voice, " if you have sufficiently refreshed and recovered your-
self, 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 placidly and gently than before, " what have
you been doing, Thomas, humph ? "

When he had repeated this inquiry, he looked round the
walls of the room as if he were curious to see whether any
nails had been left there by accident in former times.

Tom was almost at his wit's ends 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
Inm, when Martin saved him further trouble, by doing so him-
self.

" 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 favor to reply, if you please. I ask
you : " he raised his voice a little here : " what do you mean

?

by thi

" I will talk to you, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff in a severe
voice, as he looked at him for the first time, " presently."

"You are veiy obliging," returned Martin; "presently
will not do. I must trouble you to talk to me at once."

Mr. Pecksniff made a feint of being deeply interested in
his pocket-book, but it shook in his hands ; he trembled so.

"Now," retorted Martin, rapping the table again. "Now.
Presently will not do. Now ! "

"Do you threaten me, sir? " cried Mr. Pecksniff.

Martin looked at him, and made no answer ; but a curi-
ous observer might have detected an ominous twitching at his
mouth, and perhaps an involuntary attraction of his right
hand in the direction of Mr. Pecksniff's cravat.

" I lament to be obliged to say, sir," resumed Mr. Peck-
sniff, "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
unsuspicious. You have obtained admission, sir," said Mr.

MARTIN CnUZZLEWIT.

217

Pecksniff rising, " to this house, on perverted statements, and
on false f)retences."

"Goon," said Martin, with a scornful smile. "I under-
stand you now. What more .'' "

" I'hus much more, sir," cried Mr. Pecksniff, trembling
from head to foot, and trjdng to rub his hands, as though he
were only cold. "Thus much more, if you force me to pub-
lish your shame before a third party, which I was unwilling
and indisposed to do. This lowly roof, sir, must not be con-
taminated by the presence of one, who has deceived, and
cruelly deceived, an honorable, beloved, venerated, and vener-
able gentleman ; and who wisely suppressed that deceit from
me when he sought my protection and favor knowing that,
humble as I am, \ 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 Mr.
Pecksniff ; " I mourn over your corruption, I pity your volun-
tary withdrawal of yourself from the flowery paths of purity
and peace ; " here he struck himself upon his breast, or moral
garden ; " but I cannot have a leper and a serpent for an in-
mate. Oo forth," said Mr. Pecksniff, stretching out his hand :
"go forth, young man ! Like all who know you, I renounce
you !

With what intention Martin made a stride forward at these
words, it is impossible to say. It is enough to know that Tom
Pinch caught him in his arms, and that, at the same moment,
Mr. Pecksniff stepped back so hastily, that he missed his foot-
ing, tumbled over a chair, and fell in a sitting posture on the
ground ; where he remained without an effort to get up again,
with Ms head ni a corner ; perhaps considering it the safest
place.

" 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 creature than he is.'' Do you think that if
I spat upon him, I could degrade him to a lower level than
his own? Look at him. Look at him. Pinch ! "

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 detri-
ment of an uncomfortable journey aljout him, was not exactly
a model of all that is prepossessing and dignified in man, cer-
tainly. Still he 7<yai' Pecksniff; it was impossible to deprive
him of that unique and paramount appeal to Tom. And he

2 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

returned Tom's glance, as if he would have said, " Ay, Mr.
Pinch, look at me ! Here I am ! You know what J^e 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 ! "

" 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 me. Pinch ! The
day will come — he knows it : see it written on his face, 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, Pinch, and be the wiser for the recol-
lection ! "

He pointed at him as he spoke, with unutterable 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 breathlessly
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 didn't so much mean that, as were you going now at
once, in this bad weather, on foot, without your clothes, with
no money 1 " 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. I'll go to Amer-
ica ! "

" No, no," cried Tom, in a kind of agony. " Don't go
there. Pray don't ! Thmk better of it. Don't be so dread-
fully 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 haste back, and can't say
anything I would. Heaven be with you. Look at the leaf I
have turned down. Good-by, good-by ! "

The simple fellow wrung him by the hand, with tears
stealing down his cheeks; and they parted hurriedly upon
their separate ways.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

219

CHAPTER XIII.

SHOWING WHAT BECAME OF MARTIN AND HIS DESPERATE
RESOLVE AFTER HE LEFT MR. PECKSNIFF'S HOUSE ; WHAT
PERSONS HE ENCOUNTERED ; WHAT ANXIETIES HE SUF-
FERED ; AND WHAT NEWS HE HEARD.

Carrying Tom Pinch's book quite unconsciously under his
arm, and not even buttoning his coat as a protection against
the heavy rain, Martin went doggedly forward at the same
quick pace, until he had passed the iinger-post, and was on
the high road to London. He slackened veiy little 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 per-
ceptions. The day was dawning from a patch of watery light
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 among the grass ;
and made a muddy kennel of every furrow in the ploughed
fields. No living creature was anywhere to be seen. The
prospect could hardly have been more desolate if animated
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 quite
as cheerless as the scene without. Friendless and penniless ;
incensed to the last degree ; deeply wounded in his pride and
self-love ; full of independent schemes, and perfecdy destitute
of any means of realizing them ; his most vindictive enemy
might have been satisfied with the extent of his troubles. 'I o
add to his other miseries, he was 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

2 2 o ^^A A' TIN CIIUZZLE WIT.

looked at the ding}' lettering on the back, and finding it to be
an odd volume of the " Bachelor of Salamanca," in the French
tongue, cursed Tom Pinch's folly, twenty limes. He was on
the point of throwing it away, in his ill-humor and \'e\ation,
when he bethought himself that Tom had referred him to a
leaf, turned down ; and opening it, at that place, that he might
have additional cause of complaint against him for supposing
that any cold scrap of the Bachelor's wisdom could cheer him
in such circumstances, found —

Well, well ! not much, but Tom's all. The half-sovereign.
He had wrapped it hastily in a piece of paper, and pinned it
to the leaf. These words were scrawled in pencil on the in-
side : " I don't want it, indeed. I should not know what to
do with it, if I had it."

There are some falsehoods, Tom, on which men mount, as
on bright wings, towards Heaven. There are some truths,
cold bitter taunting truths, wherein your worldly scholars are
very apt and punctual, which bind men down to earth with
leaden chains. Who would not rather have to fan him, in his
dying hour, the lightest feather of a falsehood such as thine,
than all the quills that have been plucked from the sharp por-
cupine, reproachful truth, since time began !

Martin felt keenly for himself, and he felt this good deed
of I'om's keenly. After a few minutes it had the effect of
raising his spirits, and reminding him that he was not alto-
gether destitute, as he had left a fair stock of clothes behind
him, and wore a gold hunting-watch in his pocket. He found
a curious gratification, too, in thinking what a winning fellow
he must be to have made such an impression on Tom ; and in
reflecting how superior he was to Tom ; and how much more
likely to make his way in the world. Animated by these
thoughts, and strengthened in his design of endeavoring to
push his fortune in another country, he resolved to get to
London as a rallying-point, in the best way he could ; and to
lose no time about it.

He was ten good miles from the village made illustrious
by being the' abiding-place of Mr. Pecksniff, when he stopped
to breakfast at a little road-side ale-house ; and resting upon
a high-backed settle before the fire, pulled off his coat, and
hung it before the cheerful blaze, to dry. It was a ver}' dif-
ferent place from the last tavern in which he had regaled :
boasting no greater extent of accommodation than the brick-
floored kitchen yielded : but the mind so soon accommodates

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 221

itself to the necessities of the body, that this poor wagoner's
house-of-call, which he would have despised yesterday, became
now quite a choice hotel ; while his dish of eggs and bacon,
and his mug of beer, were not by any means the coarse fare
he had supposed, 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^colored
scripture pieces on the wall, in little black frames like common
shaving-glasses, and saw how the Wise Men (with a strong
family likeness among them) worshipped in a pink manger ;
and how the Prodigal Son came home in red rags to a purple
father, and already feasted his imagination on a sea-green
calf. Then he glanced through the window at the falling rain,
coming down aslant upon the sign-post over against the house,
and overflowing the horse-trough ; and then he looked at the
fire again, and seejned to descry a doubly-distant London, re-
treating 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 necessity, when the sound of
wheels called his attention to the window, out of its regular
turn ; and there he beheld a kind of Hglit 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 aloncy stopped
at the door to water his team, and presently came stamping
and shaking 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 crood-humored countenance. As he advanced
towards the fire, he touclied his shining forehead with the
forefinger of his stiff leather glove, by way of salutation ; and
said (rather unnecessarily) that it was an uncommon wet day.

" Very wet," said Martin.

" I don't know as ever 1 see a wetter."

" I never felt one," said Martin.

The driver glanced at Martin's soiled dress, and his damp
shirt sleeves, and his coat hung up to dry : and said, after a
pause, as he warmed his hands :

" You have been caught in il, sir ? "

"Yes," was the short re]jly.

" Out riding, maybe ? " said the driver.

222 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" 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 said he didn't with
aU 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 ; that he was above pretending to be her
favorite when he was not ; and that he snapped his fingers at
her, the driver, and everybody else.

The driver looked at him stealthily for a minute or so ; and
in the pauses of his warming, whistled too. At length he
asked, as he pointed his thumb 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 care-
less 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 up," observed the driver ; " Hounslow, ten
miles this side London."

" Are you ? " cried Martin, stojDping short and looking at
him.

The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed
again, and answered, " Ay, to be sure he was."

" Why, then," said Martin, " I'll be plain with you. You
may suppose from my dress that I have money to spare. I
have not. All I can afford for coach-hire is a crown, for I
ha\e but two. If you can take me for that, and my waistcoat,
or this silk handkerchief, do. If you can't, leave it alone."

" 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." Where-
upon he began to whistle again.

" I didn't say I wanted more, did 1 1 " asked the driver,
with something like indignation.

" You didn't say my olTer was enougli," rejoined Martin.

" Why how could I, when you wouldn't let me ? In regard
to the waistcoat, I wouldn't have a man's waistcoat, much less

MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 223

a gentleman's waistcoat, on my mind, for no consideration ;
but the silk handkerchief's another thing ; and if you was
satisfied when we got to Hounslow, I 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, handing 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 ih the right direction with a most satisfactory
and encouraging briskness.

The driver's name, as he soon informed Martin, was Wil-
liam Simmons, better known as liill ; and his spruce appear-
ance was sufficiently explained by his connection with a large
stage-coaching establishment at Hounslow, whither he was
conveying his load 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 animals 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 keybugle in his pocket,
on which, whenever the conversation flagged, he played the
first part of a great many tunes, and regularly broke down in
the second.

" Ah ! " said Bill, with a sigh, as he drew the back of his
hand across his lips, and put this instrument in his pocket,
after screwing off the mouth-piece to drain it ; " Lummy Ned
of the Light Salisbury, he was the one for musical talents. He
was a guard. What you may call a Guard'an Angel, was
Ned."

" Is he dead ? " asked Martin.

" Dead ! " replied the other, with a contemptuous emphasis.
" Not he. You won't catch Ned a dying easy. No, no. He
knows better than that."

" You spoke of him in the past tense," observed Martin,
" so I supposed he was no more."

" He's no more in England," said Bill, " if that's what
you mean. He went to the U-nited States."

224

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Did he ? " asked Martin, with sudden interest. " When ? "

" Five 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 Liverpool one day, without saying anything
about it, and went and shipped himself for the U-nited States."

" Well ? " said Martin.

" Well ! as he landed there without a penny to bless him-
self with, of course they wos very glad to see him in the U-nited
States."

" What do you mean ? " asked Martin, with some scorn.

" What do I mean .? " said Bill. " Why, that. All men
are alike in the U-nited States, an't they ? It makes no odds
whether a man has a thousand pound, or nothing, there. Par-
ticular in New York, I'm told, where Ned landed."

" New York, was it ? " asked Martin, thoughtfully,

" Yes," said Bill. " New York. I know that, because he
sent word home that it brought Old York to his mind, quite
wivid, in consequence of being so exactly unlike it in every
respect. I don't understand wot particular business Ned
turned his mind to, when he got there ; but he wrote home
that him and his friends was alwas a singing. Ale Columbia,
and blowing up the President, 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, because he lost
it all, the day after, in six-and-twenty banks as broke. He
settled a lot of the notes on his father, when it was ascertained
that they was really stopped, and sent 'em over with a dutiful
letter. I know that, because they was shown down our yard
for the old gentleman's benefit, that he might treat himself
with tobacco in the workus."

" He was a foolish fellow not to take care of his money
when he h"ad it," said Martin, indignantly.

" There you're right," 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."

Martin said nothing in reply, but soon afterwards 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
fortunate guard of the Light Salisbury been in crossing the
Atlantic ; at what time of the year had he sailed ; what was

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 225

the name of the ship in which he made the voyage ; how much
had he paid for passage-money ; did he suffer greatly from
sea-sickness ? and so forth. But on these points of detail,
his friend was possessed of little or no information ; either
answering obviously at random, or acknowledging that he had
never heard, or had forgotten ; nor, although he returned to
the charge very often, could he obtain any useful intelligence
on these essential particulars.

They jogged on all day, and stopped 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 another, connected with the coaching on that
line of road — that it was midnight when they reached Houns-
low. A little short of the stables for which the van was
bound, Martin got down, paid his crown, and forced his silk
handkerchief upon his honest friend, notwithstanding the
many protestations 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 a pretty strong sense of being shut out,
alone, upon the dreary world, without the key of it.

But in this moment of despondency, and often afterwards,
the recollection of Mr. Pecksniff operated as a cordial to him ;
awakening in his breast an indignation that was very whole-
some in nerving him to obstinate endurance. Under the
influence of this fiery dram he started off for London without
more ado. Arriving there in the middle of the night, and not
knowing where to find a tavern open, he was fain to stroll
about the streets and market-places until morning.

He found himself, about an hour before clawn, in the
humbler regions of the Adelphi ; and addressing himself to a
man in a fur-cap who was taking down the shutters of an
obscure public-house, informed him that he was a stranger, and
inquired if he could have a bed there. It happened by good
luck that he could. Though none of the gaudiest, it was
tolerably clean, and Martin felt very glad and grateful when
he crept into it, for wamith, rest, and forgetfulness.

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
now a matter of absolute necessity that he should part with his
watch to some obliging pawnbroker. He would have waited

15

2 26 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

until after dark for this purpose, though it had been the longest
day in the year, and he had begun it without a breakfast.

He passed more Golden Balls than all the jugglers in
Europe have juggled with, in the course of their united per-
formances, before he could determine in favor of any particu-
lar 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 tJie three balls, with the legend
" Money Lent," were repeated in a ghastly transparency,
passed into one of a series of little closets, or private boxes,
erected for the accommodation of the more bashful and unin-
itiated customers. He bolted himself in ; pulled out his
watch ; and laid it on the counter.

" 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 ! You 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."

Martin drew back involuntarily, for he knew the voice at
once.

"You're always full of your chaff," said the shopman, roll-
ing up the article (which looked like a shirt) quite as a matter
of course, and nibbing his pen upon the counter.

"I shall never be full of my wheat," said Mr. Tigg, "as
long as I come here. Ha, ha ; Not bad ! Make it two-and-
six, my dear friend, positively for this occasion only. Half-a-
crown is a delightful coin. Two-and-six ! Going at two-
and-six ! For the last time at two-and-six ! "

" It'll never be the last time till it's quite worn out,"
rejoined the shopman. " It's 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 ; " in the patriotic service of
an ungrateful country. You are making it two-and-six, I
think } "

" I'm making it," returned the shopman, "what it always
has been — two shillings. Same name as usual, I suppose .'' "

" Still the same name," said Mr. Tigg ; "my claim to the
dormant peerage not being yet established by the House of
Lords."

" The old address ? "

" Not at all," said Mr. Tigg ; " I have removed my town

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

227

establishment from thirty-eight Mayfair, to number fifteen-
hundred-ancl-forty-two, Park Lane."

" Come, I'm not going to put down that, you know," said
the shopman M'ith a grin.

" You may put down what you please, my friend," quoth
Mr. Tigg. " The fact is still the same. The apartments for
the under-butler and the fifth footman being of a most con-
founded low and vulgar kind at thirty-eight Mayfair, I have
been compelled, in my regard for the feelings which do them
so much honor, to take on lease, for seven, fourteen, or twenty-
one years, renewable at the option of the tenant, the elegant
and commodious family mansion, number fifteen-hundred-and-
forty-two. Park Lane. Make it two-and-six, and come and
see me ! "

The shopman was so highly entertained by this piece of
humor, that Mr. Tigg himself could not repress some little
show of exultation. It vented itself, \\\ part, in a desire to
see how the occupant of the next box received his pleasantry ;
to ascertain which, he glanced round the partition, and im-
mediately, by the gaslight, recognized Martin.

" I wish I may die," said Mr. Tigg, stretchuigout his body
so far that his head was as much in Martin's little cell as
Martin's own head was, " but this is one of the most tremen-
dous meetings in Ancient or Modern History ! How are you ?
What is the news from the agricultural districts .-' How are
our friends the P.'s ? Ha, ha ! David, pay particular attention
to this gentleman, immediately, as a friend of mine, I beg."

" Here ! Please to give me the most you can for this,"
said Martin, handing the watch to the shopman, " I want
money sorely."

" He wants money sorely ! " cried Mr. Tigg with exces-
sive sympathy. " David, you will have the goodness to do
your very utmost for my friend, who wants money sorely.
You will deal with my friend as if he were myself. A gold hunt-
ing-watch, David, engine-turned, capped and jewelled in four
holes, escape movement, horizontal lever, and warranted to
perform correctly, upon my personal reputation, who have
observed it narrowly for many years, under the most trying
circumstances : " here he winked at Martin, that he might
understand this recommendation would have an immense
effect upon the shopman : "what do you say, David, to my
friend ? Be very particular to deserve my custom and recom-
mendation, David."

2 28 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I can lend you three pound on this, if you like," said the
shopman to Martin, confidentially. " It's very old-fashioned.
I couldn't say more."

" And devilish handsome, too," cried Mr. Tigg. " Two-
twelve-six for the watch, and seven-and-six for personal regard.
I am gratified : it may be weakness, but I am. Three pound
will do. We take it. The name of my friend is Smivey :
Chicken Smivey, of Holborn, twenty-six-and-a-half B : lodger."
Here he winked at Martin again, to apprise him that all the
forms and ceremonies prescribed by law were now complied
with, and nothing remained but the receipt of the money.

In point of fact, this proved to be the case, for Martin,
who had no resource but to take what was offered him, signi-
fied his acquiescence by a nod of his head, and presently
came out with the cash in his pocket. He was joined in the
entry by Mr. Tigg, who warmly congratulated him, as he took
his arm and accompanied him into the street, on the success-
ful issue of the negotiation.

" As for my part in the same," said Mr. Tigg, " don't men-
tion it. Don't compliment me, for I can't bear it ! "

" I have no such intention, I assure you," retorted Martin,
releasing his arm and stopping.

•'You oblige me very much," said Mr. Tigg. "Thank
you."

" Now, sir," observed Martin, biting his lip, " this is a
large town, and we can easily find different ways in it. If you
will show me which is your way, I will take another."
Mr. Tigg was about to speak, but Martin interposed :
" I need scarcely tell you, after what you have just seen,
that I have nothing to bestow upon your friend, Mr. Slyme.
And it is quite as unnecessary for me to tell you that I don't
desire the honor of your company."

" Stop ! " cried Mr. Tigg, holding out his hand. " Hold !
There is a most remarkably long-headed, flowing-bearded, and
patriarchal proverb, which observes that it is the duty of a
man to be just before he is generous. Be just now, and you
can be generous presently. Do not confuse me with the man
Slyme. Do not distinguish the man Slyme as a friend of mine,
for he is no such thing. I have been compelled, sir, to aban-
don the party whom you call Slyme. I have no knowledge
of the party whom you call Slyme. I am, sir," said Mr. Tigg,
striking himself upon the breast, " a premium tulip, of a very
different growth and cultivation from the cabbage Slyme, sir."

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 229

"It matters very little to me," said Martin coolly,
" whether you have set up as a vagabond on your own account,
or are still trading on behalf of Mr. Slyme. I wish to hold
no correspondence with you. In the devil's name, man," said
Martin, scarcely able despite his vexation to repress a smile,
as Mr. Tigg stood leaning his back against the shutters of a
shop window, adjusting his hair with great composure, " will
you go one way or other ? "

"You will allow me to remind you, sir," said Mr. Tigg,
with sudden dignity, " that you— not I — that you — I say
emphatically, you — have reduced the proceedings of this even-
ing to a cold and distant matter of business, when I was
disposed to place them on a friendly footing. It being made
a matter of business, sir, I beg to say that I expect a trifle
(which I shall bestow in charity) as commission upon the
pecuniary advance, in which I have rendered you my humble
services. After the terms in which you have addressed me,
sir," concluded Mr. Tigg, " 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 its goodness, spun it in the air after the
manner of a pieman, and buttoned it up. Finally, he raised
his hat an inch or two from his head, with a military air, and,
after pausing a moment with deep gravity, as to decide in
which direction he should go, and to what Earl or Marquis
among his friends he should give 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 content, they parted company.

It was with a bitter sense of humiliation that he cursed,
again and again, the mischance of ha\ing encountered this
man in the pawnbroker's shop. The only comfort he had in
the recollection was, Mr. Tigg's voluntary avowal of a separa-
tion between himself and Slyme, that would at least prevent
his circumstances (so Martin argued) 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 supposing any declaration of Mr.
Tigg's to be false, than for attaching the least credence to it ;
but remembering the terms on which the intimacy between
that gentleman and his bosom friend had subsisted, and the
strong probability of Mr, Tigg's having established an inde-

230

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

pendent business of his own on Mr. Slyme's connection, it had
a reasonable appearance of probabiUty ; 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 further notice, and to write a formal note to Tom
Pinch (for he knew Pecksniff would see it) requesting to have
his clothes forwarded to London by coach, with a direction
to be left at the office until called for. These measures
taken, he passed the interval before the box arrived — three
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 wharv^es, with the faint hope of stumbling
upon some engagement for the voyage, as clerk or supercargo,
or custodian of something or somebody, which would enable
him to procure a free passage. But, finding, soon, that no
such means of employment were likely to present themselves,
and dreading the consequences of delay, he drew up a short
advertisement, 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 narrowest limits consistent with decent re-
spectability, and carried the overplus at different times to the
pawnbroker's shop, for conversion into money.

And it was strange, very strange, even to himself, to find,
how by quick though almost imperceptible degrees he 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 agam as if the whole human tide
he stemmed, knew well where he had come from. When did
he care to think of their discernment now ! In his first wan-
derings up and down the wear}' streets, he counterfeited the
walk of one who had an object in his view ; but, soon there
came upon him the sauntering, slipshod gait of listless idle-
ness, and the lounging at street-corners, and plucking and
biting of stray bits of straw, and strolling up and down the
same place, and looking into the same shop-windows, with a
miserable indifference, fifty times a day. At first, he came
out from his lodging with an uneasv sense of being obser\-ed
— even by those chance passers-by, on whom he had never

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 231

looked before, and hundreds to one would never see again —
issuing in the morning from a public-house ; but now, in his
comings-out and goings-in he did not mind to lounge about
the door, or to stand sunning himself in careless thought
beside the wooden stem, studded from head to heel with pegs,
on which the beer-pots dangled like so many boughs upon a
pewter-tree. And yet it took but five weeks to reach the low-
est round of this tall ladder !

Oh, moralists, who treat of happiness and self-respect,
innate in every sphere of life, and shedding light on ever}'
grain of dust in God's highway, so smooth below your car-
riage-wheels, 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 thou-
sands breathing "^now, and breathing thick with painful toil,
who in that high respect have never lived at all, nor had a
chance of life ! Go ye, who rest so placidly upon the 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 the mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid depths 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 soul's bright torch as fast as it is kindled 1
And, oh ! ye Pharisees of the nineteen hundredth year of
Christian Knowledge, who soundingly appeal to human
nature, see first that it be human. Take heed it has not
been transformed, during your slumber and the sleep of gener-
ations, into the nature of the Beasts.

Five weeks ! Of all the twenty or thirty answers, not one
had come. His money, even the additional stock he had
raised from the disposal of his spare clothes (and that was
not much, for clothes, though dear to buy, are cheap to pawn),
was fast diminishing. Yet what could he do .-' At times an
agony came over him in which he darted forth again, though
he was but newly home, and, returning to some place where
he had been already twenty times, made some new attempt to
gain his end, but always unsuccessfully. He was years and
years too old for a cabin boy, and years upon years too inex-
perienced to be accepted as a common seaman. His dress
and manner, too, militated fatally against any such proposal
as the latter ; and yet he was reduced to making it ; for, even
if he could have contemplated the being set down in America,

232

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

totally without money, he had not enough left now for a steer-
age-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 never once doubted, one
may almost say the certainty of doing great things in the New
World, if he could only get there. In proportion as he be-
came more and more dejected by his present circumstances,
and the means of gaining America receded from his grasp, the
more he fretted himself with the conviction that that was the
only place in which he could hope to achieve any high end,
and worried his brain with the thought that men going there
in the meanwhile might anticipate him in the attainment of
those objects whicli were dearest to his heart. He often
thought of John Westlock, and besides looking out for him on
all occasions, actually walked about London for three days
together, for the express purpose of meeting with him. But,
although he failed in this ; and although he would not have
scrupled to borrow money of him ; and although he believed
that John would have lent it ; yet still he could not bring his
mind to write to Pinch and inquire where he was to be found.
For although, as we have seen, he was fond of Tom after his
own fashion, he could not endure the thought (feeling so superior
to Tom) of making him the stepping-stone to his fortune, or
being anything to him but a patron ; and his pride so revolted
from the idea, that it restrained him even now.

It might have yielded, however ; and no doubt must have
yielded soon, but for a very strange and unlooked-for occurrence.
• The five weeks had quite run out, and he was in a truly
desperate plight, when one evening, having just returned to
his lodging, and being in the act of lighting his candle at the
gas jet in the bar before stalking moodily up stairs to his own
room, his landlord called him by his name. Now, as he had
never told it to the man, but had scrupulously kept it to him-
self, he was not a little startled by this ; and so plainly showed
his agitation, that the landlord, to re-assure him, said " it
was only a letter."

" A letter ! " cried Martin.

" For Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit," said the landlord, reading
the superscription of one he held in his hand. " Noon. Chief
office. Paid."

Martin took it from him, thanked him and walked up stairs.
It was not sealed, but pasted close ; the handwriting was quite
unknown to him. He opened it, and found enclosed, without

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

^2>l

any name, address, or other inscription or explanation of any
kind whatever, a Bank of England note for Twenty Pounds.

To say that he was perfectly stunned with astonishment
and delight ; that he looked again and again at the note and
the wrapper ; diat he hurried below stairs to make quite cer-
tain that the note was a good note ; and then hurried up again
to satisfy himself for the fiftieth time that he had not over-
looked some scrap of writing on the wrapper ; that he ex-
hausted and bewildered hunself with conjectures ; and could
make nothing of it but that there the note was, and he was
suddenly enriched ; would be only to relate so many matters
of course, to no purpose. The final upshot of the business at
that time was, that he resolved to treat himself to a comforta-
ble but frugal meal in his own chamber ; and having ordered
a fire to be kindled, went out to purchase it forthwith.

He bought some cold beef, and ham, and French bread,
and butter, and came back with his pockets pretty heavily
laden. It was somewhat of a damping circumstance to find
the room full of smoke, which was attributable to two causes :
firstly, to the flue being naturally vicious and a smoker ; and
secondly to their having forgotten, in lighting the fire, an odd
sack or two and some trifles, which had been put up the chim-
ney to keep the rain out. They had already remedied this over-
sight, ho\Vever ; and propped up the window-sash with a bun-
dle of firewood to keep it open ; so that except in being
rather inflammatory 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, especially when a gleaming pint of porter
was set upon the table, and the servant girl withdrew, bearing
with her particular instructions relative to the production of
something hot, when he should ring the bell. The cold meat
being wrapped in a play-bill, Martin laid the cloth by spread-
ing 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 himself.

He had begun to eat with great appetite, glancing round
the room meanwhile with a triumphant anticipation of quitting
it for ever on the morrow, wlien his attention was arrested by
a stealthy footstep on the stairs, and presently by a knock at

234 ^^ ^ TYiV CHUZZLE WIT.

his chamber door, which, although it was a gentle knock
enough, communicated 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. "I^ome in ! "

" It an't a liberty, sir, though it seems so," rejoined a
man's voice. " Your servant, sir. Hope you're pretty well,
sir."

Martin stared at the face that was bowing in the door-
way ; perfectly remembering the features and expression, but
quite forgetting to whom they belonged.

" Tapley, sir," said his visitor. " Him as formerly lived
at the Dragon, sir, and was forced to leave in consequence of
a want of jollity, sir."

" To be sure ! " 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 hungry
sweep, as was very much calculated to make a man jolly, sir,
I see you a buying that."

Martin reddened as he pointed to the table, and said,
somewhat hastily :

" Well ! 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 you told them
you were expected ? " inquired Martin.

" No, sir, I an't," said Mark. " That was what you may
call a pious fraud, sir, that was."

Martin cast an angry look at him ; but there was some-
thing in the fellow's merry face, and in his manner, which
with all its cheerfulness was far from being obtrusive or
familiar, that quite disarmed him. He had lived a solitary
life too, for many weeks, and the voice was pleasant in his ear.

" Tapley," he said, " I'll deal openly with you. From all 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 here
by impertinent curiosity or any other offensive motive. Sit
down. I'm glad to see you."

MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 235

" Thankee, sir," said Mark. " I'd as lieve 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 de-
sire— now it is." With which reply he gravely helped him-
self, and went on eating. Martin having done the like for a
short time in sUence, said abruptly :

"What are you doing in London ? "

" Nothing at all, sir," rejoined Mark.

" How's that ? " asked Martin.

" I want a place," said Mark.

" I'm sorry for you," said Martin.

" — To attend upon a single gentleman," resumed Mark.
" If from the countiy the more desirable. Makeshifts would
be preferred. Wages no object."

He said this so pointedly, that Martin stopped in his eat-
ing, and said :

"If you mean me — "

" Yes, I do, sir," interposed Mark.

" Then you may judge from my style of living here, of my
means of keeping a man-servant. Besides, I am going to
America immediately."

" Well, sir," returned Mark, quite unmoved by this intel-
ligence, " from all that ever I heard about it, I should say
America is a veiy likely sort of place for me to be jolly in ! "

Again Martin looked at him angrily ; and again his anger
melted away in spite of himself.

"Lord bless you, sir," said Mark, "what is the use of us
a going round and round, and hiding behind the corner, and
dodging up and down, when we can come straight to the
point in six words t I've had my e}-e upon you any time this
fortnight. I see well enough there's a screw loose in your
affairs. I know'd well enough the first time I see you clow^n
at the Dragon that it must be so, sooner or later. Now, sir,
here am I, without a sitiwation ; without any want of wages
for a year to come ; for I saved up (I didn't mean to do it,

236 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 you take me, or will you leave me ? "

" How can I take you ?" cried Martin.

" When I say take," rejoined Mark, " I mean will you let
me go ? and when I say will you let 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'll pay my own passage in another. And mark my
words, if I go alone it shall be, to carry out the principle, in
the rottonest, craziest, leakingest tub of a wessel that a place
can be got in for love or money. So if I'm lost upon the
way, sir, there'll be a drowned man at your door — and always
a knocking double knocks at it, too, or never trust me ! "

" This is mere folly," said Martin.

" Very good, sir," returned Mark. " I'm glad to hear it,
because if you don't mean to let me go, you'll be more com-
fortable, perhaps, on account of thinking so. Therefore I con-
tradict no gentleman. But all I say is, that if I don't emigrate
to America in that case, in the beastliest old cockleshell as
goes out of port, I'm "

" You don't mean what you say, I'm sure," said Martin.

"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
and see how it turns out. Why, love my heart alive ! the only
doubt I have is, whether there's any credit in going with a
gentleman like you, that's as certain to make his way there as
a gimlet is to go through soft deal."

This was touching Martin on his weak point, and having him
at a great advantage. He could not help thinking, either, what
a brisk fellow this Mark was, and how great a change he had
wrought in the atmosphere of the dismal little room already.

" Why, certainly, Mark," he said, " I have hopes of doing
well there, or I shouldn't go. I may have the qualifications
for doing well, perhaps."

" Of course you have, sir," returned Mark Tapley.
" E'/erybody knows that."

" You see," said Martin, leaning his chin upon his hand,

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

237

and looking at the fire, " ornamental architecture applied to
domestic purposes, can hardly fail to be \\\ great request in
that country ; for men are constantly changing their resi-
dences 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 opens one of the jolliest look-outs for domestic ar-
chitecture 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 success-
ful 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 be satis-
fied. Another doubt arose in his mind, however, as this one
disappeared. He produced the blank cover in which the note
had been enclosed, and fixing his eyes on Mark as he put it
in his hands, said,

" Now tell me the truth. Do you know anything about
that?''

Mark turned it over and over ; held it near his eyes ;
held it away from him at arm's length , held it with the su-
perscription upwards, and with the superscription downwards ;
and shook his head with such a genuine expression of aston-
ishment at being asked the question, that Martin said, as he
took it from him again :

" No, I see you don't. How should you ? Though, in-
deed, your knowing about it would not be more extraordinary
than it's being here. Come, Tapley," he added, after a mo-
ment's thought, "I'll trust you with my history, such as it is,
and then you'll see, more clearly, what sort of fortunes you
would link yourself to, if you followed me."

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Mark ; " but afore you en-
ter upon it, will you take me if I choose to go .'' Will you turn
off me, Mark Tapley, formerly of the Blue Dragon, as can be
well recommended by Mr. Pinch, and as wants a gentleman
of your strength of mind to look up to ; or will you, in climb-
ing the ladder as you're certain to get to the top of, take me
along with you at a respectful distance .-' Now, sir," said
Mark, " it's of very little importance to you I know ; there's
the difficulty ; but it's of very great importance to me, and
will you be so good as to consider of it .'' "

If this were meant as a second appeal 10 Martin's weak
side, founded on his observation of the effect of the first, Mr.

238 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Tapley was a skilful and shrewd observer. Whether an
intentional or an accidental shot, it hit the mark full , for
Martin, relenting more and more, said, with a condescension
which was inexpressibly delicious to him, after his recent hu-
miliation :

" We'll see about it, Tapley. You shall tell me in what dis-
position you find yourself to-morrow."

" Then, sir," said Mark, rubbing his hands, " the job's done.
Go on, sir, if you please. I'm all attention."

Throwing himself back in his arm-chair, and looking at the
fire, with now and then a glance at Mark, who at such times
nodded his head sagely, to express his profound interest and
attention ; Martin ran over the chief points in his history, to
the same effect as he had related them, weeks before, to Mr.
Pinch. But he adapted them, according to the best of his
judgment, to Mr. Tapley's comprehension ; and with that view
made as light of his love affair as he could, and referred to it
in very few words. But here he reckoned without his host ;
for Mark's interest was keenest in this part of the business,
and prompted him to ask sundry questions in relation to it ;
for which he apologized as one in some measure privileged to
do so, from having seen (as Martin explained to him) the young
lady at the Blue Dragon.

" And a young lady as any gentleman ought to feel more
proud of being in love with," said Mark, energetically, " don't
draw breath."

" Ay ! You saw her when she was not happy," said Mar-
tin, gazing at the fire again. " If you had seen her in the old
times, indeed — "

" Why, she certainly was a little down-hearted, sir, and
something paler in her color than I could have wished," said
Mark, " but none the worse in her looks for that. I think
she seemed better, sir, after she come to London."

Martin withdrew his eyes from the fire ; stared at Mark as
if he thought he had suddenly gone mad ; and asked him what
he meant.

" No offence intended, sir," urged Mark. " I don't mean
to say she was any the haj^pier without you ; but I thought
she was a looking better, sir."

" Do you mean to tell me she has been in London .'' " asked
Martin, rising hurriedly, and pushing back his chair.

" Of course I do," said Mark, rising too, in great amaze-
ment from the bedstead.

II

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 239

" Do you mean to tell me she is in London now ? "

" Most likely, sir. I mean to say she was, a week ago."

" And you know where ? "

" Yes ! " cried Mark. " What ! Don't you ? "

" My good fellow ! " exclaimed Martin, clutching him by
both arms, " I have never seen her since 1 left my grandfather's
house."

" Why then ! " cried Mark, giving the little table such a
blow with his clenched fist that the slices of beef and ham
danced upon it, while all his features seemed, with deligdit, to
be going up into his forehead, and never coming back again any
more, " if I an't your nat'ral born servant, hired by Fate, there
an't such a thing in natur' as a Blue Dragon. What ! when I was
a rambling up and down a old churchyard in the City, getting
myself into a joMy state, didn't I see your grandfather a tod-
dling to and fro for pretty nigh a mortal hour ! Didn't I watch
him into Codgers's commercial boarding-house, and watch him
out and watch him home to his hotel, and go and tell him as
his was the ser\'ice for my money, and I had said so, afore I
left the Dragon ! Wasn't the young lady a sitting with him then,
and didn't she fall a laughing in a manner as was beautiful to
see ! Didn't your grandfather 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 there-
fore wouldn't engage me ; but at the same time stood some-
thing to drink as was handsome ! Why," cried Mr. Tapley,
with a comical mixture of delight and chagrin, " where's the
credit of a man'c being jolly under such circumstances ! Who
could help it, when things come about like this ! "

For some moments, \lartin stood gazing at him, as if he
really doubted the evidence of his senses, and could not be-
lieve that Mark stood there, in the body, before him. At
length he asked him whether, if the young lady were still in
London, he thought he could contrive to deliver a letter to
her secretly.

" Do I think I can ! " cried Mark. " lliinJz I can ! Here,
sit down, sir. Write it out, sir! "

With that he cleared the table by the summary process of
tilting everj'thing upon it into the fire-place ; snatched some
writing materials from the mantle-shelf ; set Martin's chair
before them ; forced him down into it ; dipped a pen into the
ink ; and put it in his hand.

" Cut away, sir ! " cried Mark. " Make it strong, sir. Let

240 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

it be wery pinted, sir. Do I think so ? / should think so.
Go to work, sir ! "

Martin required no further adjuration, but went to work at
a great rate ; while Mr. Tapley, installing himself without any
more formalities into the functions of his valet and general
attendant, divested himself of his coat, and went on to clear
the fire-place and arrange the room ; talking to himself in a
low voice the whole time.

" Jolly sort of lodgings," said Mark, rubbing his nose with
the nob at the end of the fire-shovel, and looking round the
poor chamber : " that's a comfort. The rain's come through
the roof too. That an't bad. A lively old bedstead, I'll be
bound ; popilated by lots of wampires, no doubt. Come ! my
spirits is a getting up again. An uncommon ragged nightcap
this. A very good sign. We shall do yet ! Here Jane, my
dear," calling down the stairs,"bringupthat 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
tender, sir, if you please. You can't make it too strong, sir i"

CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH MARTIN BIDS ADIEU TO THE LADY OF HIS LOVE \
AND HONORS AN OBSCURE INDIVIDUAL WHOSE FORTUNE
HE INTENDS TO MAKE, BY COMMENDING HER TO HIS PRO-
TECTION.

The letter being duly signed, sealed, and delivered, was
handed to Mark Tapley, for immediate conveyance if pos-
sible. And he succeeded so well in his embassy as to be ena-
bled to return that same night, just as the house was closing,
with the welcome intelligence that he had sent it up stairs to
the young lady, enclosed in a small manuscript of his own, pur-
porting to contain his further petition to be engaged in Mr.
Chuzzlewit's ser\-ice ; and that she had herself come down and
told him, in great haste and agitation that slie would meet the
gentleman at eight o'clock to-morrow 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

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 241

good time, to escort the young lady to the place of appoint-
ment ; and when they had parted for the night with this under-
standing, Martin took up his pen again ; and before he went
to bed wrote another letter, whereof more will be seen pres-
ently.

He was up before day-break, and came upon the Park
with the morning, which was clad in the least engagmg 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.

" P^ine weather indeed," Martin bitterly soliloquized, " to
be wandering up_^ and down here in, like a thief ! Fine
weather indeed, for a meeting of lovers in the open air, and
in a public walk ! I need be departing, with all speed, for
another country ; 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 appearance of attentive interest.

" My dear Martin," said Mary.

" My dear Mary," said Martin ; and lovers are such a
singular kind of people that this is all they 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 j'oung
ladies, she would have denied this in her most interesting
manner, and would have told him (hat she knew she had be-
come a perfect fright ; or that she had wasted away with
weeping and anxiety ; or that she was dwindling gently into
an early grave ; or that her mental sufferings we-e unspeak-
able ; or would, either by tears or words, or a mixture of both,
have furnished him with some other information to that effect,
and made him as miserable as possible. But she had been

16

242

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 hard endurance and necessity ; had come out
from her young trials constant, self-denying, earnest, and de-
voted ; had acquired in her maidenhood — whether happily
in the end, for herself or him, is foreign to our present pur-
pose to inquire — something of that 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 liirn
one who for her sake was an outcast from his home and for
tune, and she had no more idea of bestowing that love upon
him in other than cheerful and sustaining words, full of high
hope and grateful trustfulness, than she had of being un
worthy of it, in her lightest thought or deed, for any base
temptation that the world could offer.

" What change is there in you^ Martin," she replied ;
" for that concerns me nearest .'' You look more anxious and
more thoughtful than you used."

" Why as to that, my love," said Martin, as he drew her
waist within his arm, first looking round to see that there were
no observers near, and beholding Mr. Tapley more intent
than ever on the fog ; " it would be strange if I did not ; for
my life, especially of late, has been a hard one."

" I know it must have been," she answered. " When
have I forgotten to think of it and you ? "

"Not often, I hope," said Martin. "Not often, I am
sure. Not often, I have some right to expect, Mary ; for I
have undergone a great deal of vexation and privation, and I
naturally look for that return, you know."

" A very, very poor return," she answered with a fainter
smile. " 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 true one."

" Of course I feel quite certain of that," said Martin, " or
I shouldn'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, looking far into the deep wonder of
her bright dark eyes, " abroad."

" Abroad, Martin ! "

fl«

MAIi TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 43

" Only to America. See now. How you droop directly ! "

" If 1 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 think of what you are re-
solved 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 ver}* fond of her — hardly an iota of his usual im-
petuosity. "What am I to do ? It's very well to say, Have
I thought of it ? my love ; but you should ask me in the same
breath, have I thpught of starving at home ; have I thought
of doing porter's work for a living ; have I thought of hold-
ing horses in the streets 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 encourage-
ment that your sweet face alone can give me. Why, that's
well ! Now vou are brave again."

" I am endeavoring to be," she answered, smiling through
her tears.

" Endeavoring to be anything that's good, and being it, is,
with you, all one. Don't I know that of old.'' " cried Martin,
gayly. "So! 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 upwards
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 bafifled and rendered abortive. I will not say by whom,
Mary, for that would give pain to us both. ]]ut so it is. Ha\e
you heard him speak of late of any relative of mine or his,
called Pecksniff } Only tell me what I ask you, no more."

" I have heard, to my surprise, that he is a better man
than was supposed."

"I thought so," interrupted Martin.

"And that it is likely we may come to know him, if not
to visit and reside with him and — 1 think — his daughters.
He has daughters, has he, love ? "

" A pair of them," Martin answered. " A precious pair '.
Gems of the first water ! "

244 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Ah ! You are jesting ! "

" There is a sort of jesting which is very much in earnest,
and includes some pretty serious disgust," said Martin. " I
jest in reference to Mr. Pecksniff (at whose house I have
been Uving as his assistant, and at whose hands I have re-
ceived insult and injury), in that vein. Whatever betides, or
however closely you may be brought into communication with
his family, never forget that, Mary ; and never for an instant,
whatever appearances may seem to contradict me, lose sight
of this assvirance : Pecksniff is a scoundrel."
" Indeed ! "

" In thought, and in deed, and in everything else. A
scoundrel from the topmost hair of his head, to the nether-
most atom of his heel. Of his daughters I will only say that
to the best of my knowledge and belief, they are dutiful young
ladies, and take after their father closely. This is a digres-
sion 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 too, 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 such 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,
uncertain ; 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 mean-
time you shall hear, constantly, of all my goings-on. Thus."
He paused to take from his pocket the letter he had writ-
ten over-night, and then resumed :

" In this fellow's employment, and living in this fellow's
house (by fellow, I mean Mr. Pecksniff, of course), there is
a certain person of the name of Pinch. Don't forget ; a poor,
strange, simple oddity, Maiy ; but thoroughly honest and sin-
cere, 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."

MA R TIN CHL 'ZZLE WIT.

245

" Your old kind nature, Martin ! "

"Oh ! " said Martin, "that's not worth speaking of, my
love. He'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 little mterested, I can tell you, for he knows you ! Ay, you
may looked surprised, and the longer the better, for it becomes
you, but you have heard him play the organ in the church of
that village before now ; and he has seen you listening to his
music ; and has caught his inspiration from you, too ! "

" Was he the organist .? " cried Mary. " I thank him from
my heart ! "

"Yes, he was," said Martin, "and is, and gets nothing
for it either. There never was such a simple fellow ! Quite
an infant ! But a very good sort of creature, I assure you."

"I am sure of that," she said, with great earnestness.
"He must be! "

"Oh, yes, no doubt at all about it," rejoined Martin, in
his usual careless way. " He is. Well ! It has occurred to
me — but stay. If I read you what I have written and intend
sending to him by post to-night, it will explain itself. ' My
dear Tom Pinch.' That's rather familiar, perhaps," said
Martin, suddenly remembering that he was proud when they
had last met, " but I call him my dear Tom Pinch, because
he likes it, and it pleases him."

" Very right, and ver\' kind," said Mar^^

" Exactly so ! " cried Martin. " It's as well to be kind
whenever one can ; andj as I said before, he really is an ex-
cellent 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 any-
thing 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'll 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 Mar}\

" 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

246

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

accompanied by Mark Tapley, upon whom I have stumbled
strangely in London, and who insists on putting himself under
my protection ; ' meaning, 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, v/hich he brought his eyes down from the fog to
encounter, and received 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 ; commenda-
tions which Mr. Tapley inwardly resolved to deser\'e, from
such lips, if he died for it.

" ' Now, my dear Pinch,' " resumed Martin, proceeding
with his letter ; " ' I am going to repose great trust in you,
knowing that I may do so with perfect reliance on your honor
and secrecy, and having nobody else just now to trust in.' "

" I don't think I would say that, Martin."

"Wouldn't you 1 Well ! I'll take that out. It's perfectly
true, though."

" But it might seem ungracious, perhaps."

" Oh, I don't mind Pinch," said Martin. " There's no oc-
casion to stand on any ceremony with him. However, I'll take
it out, as you wish it, and make the full stop at ' secrecy.' Very
well ! ' I shall not only ' — this is the letter again, you know."

" I understand."

" ' I shall not only inclose my letters to the young lady of
whom I have told you, to your charge, to be forwarded as she
may request ; but 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 think that the prob-
abilities of your encountering each other — perhaps very fre-
quently— are now neither remote nor few ; and although in
our 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'll feel at once, that there is no more occasion for any em-
barrassment or hesitation 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's my friend," said Martin, "certainly. In

\

A/A A- TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

247

fact, I have told him in so many words that we'll always take
notice of him, and protect him ; and it's a good trait in his
character that he's grateful, very grateful indeed. You'll like
him of all things, my love, I know. You'll observe ver}' much
that's comical and old-fashioned about Pinch, but you needn't
mind laughing at him \ for he'll not care about it. He'll
rather like it indeed ! "

" I don't think I shall put that to the test, Martin."

"You wont if you can help it, of course," he said, "but I
think you'll find him a little too much for your gravity. How-
ever that's neither here nor there, and it certainly is not the
letter ; which ends thus : ' Knowing that I need not impress
the nature and extent of that confidence upon you at any
greater length, as it is already sufirciently established in your
mind, I will only say in bidding you farewell, and looking for-
ward to our next meeting, that I shall charge myself from this
time, through all changes for the better, with your advance-
ment and happiness, as if they were my own. You may rely
upon that. And always believe nie, my dear Tom Pinch,
faithfully your friend, Martin Chuzzlewit. P. S. I enclose
the amount which you so kindly ' — Oh," said Martin, check-
ing himself, and folding up the letter, " that's nothing ! "

At this crisis Mark Tapley interposed, with an apology for
remarking that the clock at the Horse Guards was striking.

" Which I shouldn't have said nothing about, sir," added
]\Iark, " if the young lady hadn't begged me to be particular
in mentioning it."

" I did," said Mar}^ " Thank you. You are quite right.
In another minute I shall be ready to return, ^^'e have time
for a very few words more, dear Martin, and althougli 1 had
much to say, it must remain unsaid until the happy time of
our next meeting. Heaven send it may come speedily and
prosperously ! I]ut I have no fear of that."

"Fear!" cried Martin. " Why, who has? What are a
few months? What is a whole year? When I come gayly
back, with a road through life hewn out before me, then in-
deed, looking back upon this parting, it may seem a dismal
one. But now ! I swear I wouldn't have it happen under
more favorable auspices, if I could ; for then 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

248 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 cheer-
ful tone, " but nothing in their course ! "

" Nothing at all ! " cried Martin. " I shall have change
of scene and change of place ; 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 1 Not in her ears. It had been better other-
wise, perhaps, but so 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 recognize
its ugly presence when it looks upon it. As one possessed 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 Virtue
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 entreated
me a few minutes since only to answer what you asked me in
reference to one theme, but you should and must know (other-
wise 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 mv name again. He mav once,
perhaps — to couple 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 ! "

M :

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

249

" Martin ! If 3'ou would but sometimes, in some quiet
hour ; beside the winter fire ; in the summer air ; when you
hear gentle music, or think of Death, or Home, or Childhood ;
if vou would at such a season resolve to think, but once a
month, or even once a year, of him, 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 replied, " I would
resolve at no such time to bear him in mv mind, wishing to
spare myself the 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
whole 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," he added hastily. " Come ! Has he not ? "

" That was long ago," she returned ; " immediately 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 interdicted from this time forth. And therefore, love " — •
he drew her quickly to him, for the time of parting had now
come — " in the first letter that you write to me through the
Post-office, addressed to 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 next meeting shall be in a better, and our next and
last parting in a worse."

" One other question, Martin, 1 must ask. Have you pro-
vided 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 ? W'hv, 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 pocketfull. Mark and I, for all essential ends,
are quite as rich as if we had the purse of Fortunatus in our
baggage."

250

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" The half-hour 's a-going ! " cried Mr. Tapley.
" Good-by 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, per-
haps from his experience, perhaps from intuition. It is im-
possible to say ; but however he knew it, his knowledge in-
stinctively suggested to him the wisest course of proceeding
than any man could have adopted under the circumstances.
He was taken with a violent fit of sneezing, and was obliged
to turn his head another way. In doing which, he, in a man-
ner, fenced and screened the lovers into a corner by them-
selves.

There was a short pause, but Mark had an undefined sen-
sation 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 had
some other farewell words to say ; but she only hurried off
the faster, and Mr. Tapley followed as in duty bound.

When he rejoined Martin again in his own chamber, he
found that gentleman seated moodily before the dusty grate,
with his two feet on the fender, his two elbows on his knees,
and his chin supported, in a not very ornamental manner, on
the palms of his hands.

" Well, Mark ? "

"Well, sir," said Mark, taking a long breath, "I see the
young lady safe home, and I feel pretty comfortable 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 for her sake ; not for theirs — and putting it on
his little finger. " Splendid diamonds ! My grandfather is
a singular character, Mark. He must have given her this,

now."

Mark Tapley knew as well that she had 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 acquaint-
ance of his own knowledge with the histor}^ of the glittering
trinket on Martin's outspread finger, than Martin himself
had, he was as certain that in its purchase she had expended

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

251

her whole stock of hoarded money, as if he had seen it paid
down coin by coin. Her lover's strange obtuseness in rela-
tion 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 one absorbing principle of Martin's
character.

" She is worthy of the sacrifices I have made," said Martin,
folding his arms, and looking at the 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 affection, I have followed the
bent of my own wishes, and baulked the selfish schemes of
others who had^no right to form them. She 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 by 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 man roused himself
and looked towards him ; when he turned away, as being
suddenly intent upon certain preparations for the journey,
and, without giving vent to any articulate sound, smiled with
surpassing ghastliness, and seemed by a twist of his features
and a motion of his lips, to release himself 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 corners ; 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 yesterday ; the clumps of
dark trees, its giant plumes of funeral feathers, waving sadly

252 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

to and fro ; all hushed, all noiseless, and in deep repose, sav^e
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 regions 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 blasts 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 whole scene is
madness.

On, on, on, over the countless miles of angry space roll
the long heaving billows. Mountains 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 howls the wind, and more clamor-
ous 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 ; onw'ard she comes, now high upon the curling billows,
now low down in the hollows of the sea, as hiding for the
moment from its furv ; and every storm-voice in the air and
water, cries more loudly yet, " A ship ! "

Still she comes striving on : and at her boldness and the^
spreading cry, the angry wa\es rise up above each other's
hoary heads to look ; and round about the vessel, far as the
mariners on the decks can pierce into the gloom, they press
upon her, forcing each other down, and starting up, and
rushing forward from afar, in dreadful curiosity. High over

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 253

her they break ; and round her surge and roar ; and giving
place to others, moaningly depart, and dash themselves to
fragments in their baffled anger. Still she comes onward
bravely. And though the eager multitude crowd thick and
fast upon her all the night, and dawn of day discovers the
untiring train yet bearing down upon the ship in an eternity
of troubled water, onward she comes, with dim lights burning
in her hull, and people there, asleep : as if no deadly element
were peering in at every seam and chink, and no drowned
seaman's grave, with but a plank to cover it, were yawning in
the unfathomable depths below.

Among these sleeping voyagers were Martin and ^lark
Tapley, who, rocked into a heavy drowsiness by the unac-
customed motio;i, were as insensible 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 he was dreaming of

■I •

havmg gone to sleep in a four-post bedstead 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 recognized when he opened his eves were
his own heels — looking down to him, as he afterwards ob-
served, from a nearly perpendicular elevation.

" Well ! " 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 'i " 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 his head in a ship,
any more."

The man gave a grunt of discontented acquiescence,
turned over in his berth, and drew his blanket o\-er his head.

" — For," said Mr. Tapley, pursuing the theme by way of
soliloquy, in a low tone of voice ; " the sea is as nonsensical
a thing as any 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 vacancy. Like them Polar bears in the wild-beast-
shows as is constantly a nodding their heads from side to

254

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

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 fortnight 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
— what with that, sir, and putting a very little into myself,
and taking a good deal out of yourself, there ain't too much
of me to swear by. How do yoii find yourself this morning,
sir ? "

" Very miserable," said Martin, with a peevish groan.
" Ugh ! This is wretched, indeed ! "

" Creditable," muttered Mark, pressing one hand upon his
aching head and looking round him with a rueful grin. " That's
the great comfort. It /> creditable to keep up one's spirits
here. Virtue's its own reward. So's jollity."

Mark was so far right, that unquestionably any man who
retained his cheerfulness among the steerage accomodations
of that noble and fast-sailing-line-of-packet-ship, " The Screw,"
was solely indebted to his own resources, and shipped his
good humor, like his provisions, without any contribution or
assistance from the owners. A dark, low, stifling cabin, sur-
rounded by berths all filled to everflowing with men, women,
and children, in various stages of sickness and misery, is not
the liveliest place of assembly at any time ; but when it is so
crowded (as the steerage cabin of " The Screw " was every
passage out), that mattresses and beds are heaped upon the
floor, to the extinction of everything like comfort, cleanliness,
and decency, it is liable to operate not only as a pretty strong
barrier against amiability of temper, but as a positive en-
courager of selfish and rough humors. Mark felt this, as he
sat looking about him ; and his spirits rose proportionately.

There were English people, Irish people, Welsh people,
and Scotch people there ; all with their little store of coarse
food and shabby clothes ; and nearly all, with their families
of children. 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 querulousncss, and

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

255

infinitely more of mutual assistance and general kindness to
be found in that unwholesome ark, than in many brilliant ball-
rooms.

Mark looked about him wistfully, and his face brightened
as he looked. Here an old grandmother 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 froiu their
scanty bed upon the floor. Here were old men awkwardly
engaged in little household offices, wherein they would have
been ridiculous but for their good-will and kind purpose ; and
here were swarthy fellows — giants in their way — doing such
little acts of tenderness for those about them, as mi<jht have
belonged to gentlest-hearted dwarfs. The very idiot in the
corner who sat mowing there, all da}-, had his faculty of imita-
tion roused by what he saw about him ; and snapped his fin-
gers, to amuse a cr}'ing child.

" Now, then," said Mark, nodding to a woman who was
dressing her three children at no great distance from him —
and the grin upon his face had by this time spread from ear
to ear — " hand over one of them young uns according to
custom."

" I wish you'd get breakfast, Mark, instead of worrj-ing
with people who don't belong to you," observed Martin, pet-
ulantly.

" All right," said Mark. " SJuW do that. It's a fair di-
vision of labor, sir. I wash her boys, and she makes our tea.
I never rt'/^A/ make tea, but anyone can wash 'a boy."

The woman, who was delicate and ill, felt and understood
his kindness, as well she might, for she had been covered
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 of
this speech, and expressed his dissatisfaction, by an impatient
groan.

" So it is, certainly," said Mark, brushing the child's hair
as coolly as if he had been born and bred a barber.

" What are you talking about, now ? " asked Martin.

"What you said," replied Mark; "or what you meant,
when you gave that there dismal vent to your feelings. 1
quite go along with it, sir. It is very hard upon her."

" What is ? "

256 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" Making the voyage by herself along with these young
impediments here, and going such a way at such a time of
the 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.

" Why, I'm ver}^ much afraid," said Mr. Tapley, in a low
voice, " that she don't know. I hope she mayn't miss him.
But she sent her last letter by hand, and it don't seem to have
been very clearly understood between 'em without it, and if
she don't see him a waving his pocket-handkerchief on the
shore, like a pictur out of a song-book, my opinion is, she'll
break her heart."

'' Why, how, in Folly's name, does the woman come to be
on board ship on such a wild-goose venture ! " cried Martin.

Mr. Tapley glanced at him for a moment as he lay pros-
trate in his berth, and then said, ver}'^ 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 ! A little mad, perhaps ! 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 return-
ing 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 adjusted Martin's bed, went up
on deck to wash the breakfast 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 any man, woman, or child, on
board ; and that he had a peculiar faculty of knocking himself
about on the smallest provocation, and losing his legs at every
lurch of the ship. But resolved, m his usual phrase, to " come
out strong " under disadvantageous circumstances, he was the
life and soul of the steerage, and made no more of stopping
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.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

257

It cannot be said that as his ilhiess wore off, his cheerful-
ness and good-nature increased, because they would hardly
admit of augmentation ; but his usefulness among the weaker
members of the party was much enlarged ; and at all times
and seasons there he was exerting it. If a gleam of sun
shone out of the dark sky down Mark tumbled into the cabin,
and presently up he came 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, that he
thought would be the better for the air. If an hour or two
of fine weather in the middle of the day, tempted those who
seldom or never 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. Tapley, handing
about salt beef and biscuit, or dispensing tastes of grog, or
cutting up the children's provisions with his pocket-knife, for
their greater ease and comfort, or reading aloud from a vener-
able newspaper, or singing some roaring old song to a select
party, or writing the beginnings of letters to their friends at
home for people who couldn't write, or cracking jokes with
the crew, or nearly getting blown over the side, or emerging,
half-drowned, from a shower of spray, or lending a hand some-
where or other : but always doing something for the general
entertainment. At night, when the cooking-fire was lighted
on the deck, and the driving sparks that fiew among the rig-
ging, and the cloud of sails, seemed to menace the ship with
certain annihilation by fire, in case the elements of air and
water failed to compass her destruction ; there, again, was
Mr. Tapley, with his coat off and his shirt-sleeves turned \x\)
to his elbows, doing all kinds of culinary offices ; compound-
ing the strangest dishes ; recognized by every one as an estab-
lished authority ; and helping all parties to achieve something,
which, left to themselves, they never could have done, and
never would have dreamed of. In short, there never was a
more popular character than Mark Tapley became, on board
that noble and fast-sailing-linc-of-packet ship, the Screw ;
and he attained at last to such a pitch of universal admira-
tion, that he began to have grave doubts within himself
whether a man might reasonably claim any credit for being
jolly under such ex<;iting circumstances.

" If this was going to last," said Mr. Tapley " there'd be
no great difference as I can perceive, between the Screw and
the Dragon. I never am to get credit, I think. I begin to

17

258

MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT.

be afraid that the Fates is determined to make the world easy
to me."

"Well, Mark," said Martin, near whose berth he had
ruminated to this effect. " When will this be over ? "

" Another week, they say, sir," returned Mark, " will most
likely bring us into port. The ship's a going along at present,
as sensible as a ship can, sir ; though I don't mean to say as
that's any very high praise."

" I don't think it is, indeed," groaned Martin.

" You'd feel all the better for it, sir, if you was to turn
out," observed Mark.

" And be seen by the ladies and gentlemen on the after-
deck," returned Martin, with a scornful emphasis upon the
words, " mingling with the beggarly crowd that are stowed
away in this vile hole. I should be greatly the bet'er for that,
no doubt ! "

"I'm thankful that I can't say from my own experience
what the feelings of a gentleman may be," said Mark, " but I
should have thought, sir, as a gentleman would feel a deal
more uncomfortable down here, than up in the fresh air,
especially when the ladies and gentlemen in the after-cabin
know just as much about him, as he does about them, and are
likely to trouble their heads about him in the same proportion.
I should have thought that, certainl}^"

" I tell you, then," rejoined Martin, "you would have
thought wrong, and do think wrong."

" Very likely, sir," said Mark, with imperturbable good
temper. " I often do."

" As to Ivincr here," cried Martin, raisins: himself on his
elbow, and looking angrily at his follower. " Do you suppose
it's a pleasure to lie here ? "

"All the madhouses in the world," said Mr. Tapley,
"couldn't produce such a maniac as the man must be who
could think that."

" llien why are you for ever goading and urging me to get
up ? " asked Martin. " I lie here because I don't wish to be
recognized, in the better days to which I aspire, by any purse-
proud citizen, as the man who came over with him among the
steerage passengers. I lie here, because I wish to conceal
my circumstances and myself, and not to arrive in a new
world badged and ticketed as an utterly poverty-stricken man.
If I could have afforded a passage in the after-cabin, I should
have held up my head with the rest. As I couldn't, I hide it.
Do you understand that? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 259

" I am very sorry, sir," said Mark. " I didn't know you
took it so mucli to lieart as this comes to."

'' Of course you didn't know," returned liis master. " How
should you know, unless I told you .' It's no trial to you^
Mark, to make yourself comfortable and to bustle about. It's
as natural for you to do so under the circumstances as it is
for me not to do so. Why, you don't suppose there is a
living creature in this ship who can by possibility have half
so much to undergo on board of her as / ha\e ? Do you ? "
he asked, sitting upright in his berth and looking at Mark,
with an expression of great earnestness not unmixed with
wonder.

Mark twisted his face into a tight knot, and with his head
very much on one side pondered upon this question as if he
felt it an extremely difficult one to answer. He was relieved
from his embarrassment by Martin himself, who said, as he
stretched himself upon his back again and resumed the book
he had been reading :

" But what is the use* of my putting such a case to you,
when the ver)' essence of what I have been saying, is, that
you cannot by possibility understand it ! Make me a little
brandy-and-water, cold and very weak, and give me a biscuit,
and tell your friend, who is a nearer neighbor of ours than
I could wish, to tr}' and keep her children a little quieter
to-night than she did last night ; that's a good fellow."

Mr. Tapley set hunself to obey these orders with great
alacrity, and pending their execution, it may be presumed his
flagging spirits revived, inasmuch as he several times observed,
below his breath, that in respect of its power of imparting a
credit to jollity, the Screw unquestionably liad some decided
advantages over the Dragon. He also remarked, that it was
a high gratification to him to reflect that he would carry its
main excellence ashore with him, and have it constantly beside
him, wherever he went ; but what he meant by these consola-
tory thoughts he did not explain.

And now a general excitement began to prevail on board ;
and various predictions relative to the precise day, and even
the precise hour at which they would reach New York, were
freely broached. There was infinitely more crowding on deck
and looking over the ship's side than there had been before;
and an epidemic broke out for packing up things every morn-
ing, which required unpacking again every night. Those who
had any letters to deliver, or any friends to meet, or any

26o MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

settled plans of going anywhere or doing anything, discussed
their prospects a hundred times a day ; and as this class of
passengers was very small, and the number of those who had
no prospects whatever was very large, there were plenty of
listeners and few talkers. Those who had been ill all alone,
got well now, and those who had been well, got better. An
American gentleman in the after-cabin, who had been wrapped
up in fur and oilskin the whole passage, unexpectedly ap-
peared in a very shiny, tall, black hat, and constantly over-
hauled a very little valise of pale leather, which contained his
clothes, linen, brushes, shaving apparatus, books, trinkets,
and other baggage. He likewise stuck his hands deep into
his pockets, and walked the deck with his nostrils dilated, as
already inhaling the air of Freedom which carries death to all
tyrants, and can never (under any circumstances worth men-
tioning) be breathed by slaves. An English gentleman who
was strongly suspected of having run away from a bank, with
something in his possession belonging to its strong-box besides
the key, grew eloquent upon the subject of the rights of man,
and hummed the Marseillaise Hymn constantly. In a word,
one great sensation pervaded the whole ship, and the soil of
America lay close before them, so close at last, that, upon
a certain starlight night, they took a pilot on board, and
within a few hours afterwards lay to until the morning, await-
ing the arrival of a steam-boat in which the passengers were
to be conveyed ashore.

Off she came, soon after it was light next morning, and
lying alongside an hour or more — during which period her
very firemen were objects of hardly less interest and curiosity,
than if they had been so many angels, good or bad — took all
her living freight aboard. Among them, Mark, who still had
his friend and her three children under his close protection :
and Martin, who had once more dressed himself in his usual
attire, but wore a soiled, old cloak above his ordinary clothes,
until such time as he should separate for ever from his late
companions.

'rhe steamer — which, with its machinery on deck, looked,
as it worked its long slim legs, like some enormously magnitied
insect or antediluvian monster — dashed at great speed up a
beautiful bay ; and presently they saw some heights, and
Islands, and a long, flat, straggling city.

"And this," said Mr. Tapley, looking far ahead, "is the
Land of Liberty, is it ? Very well. I'm agreeable. Any land
will do for me, after so much water ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 261

CHAPTER XVI.

MARTIN DISEMBARKS FROM THAT NOBLE AND FAST-SAILING-
LINE-OF-PACKET SHIP, THE SCREW, AT THE PORT OF NEW
YORK, IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. HE MAKES
SOME ACQUAINTANCES, AND DINES AT A BOARDING-HOUSE.
THE PARTICULARS OF THOSE TRANSACTIONS.

Some trifling excitement prevailed upon the very l)rink and
margin of the land of liberty ; for an alderman had been
elected the day before, and Party Feeling naturally running
rather high on such an exciting occasion, the friends of the
disappointed candidate had found it necessary to assert the
great Principles of Purity of F^lection and Freedom of ( )pinion
by breaking a few legs and arms, and furthermore pursuing
one obnoxious gentleman through the streets with the design
of slitting his nose. These good-humored little outbursts of
the popular fancy were not in themselves sufficiently remark-
able to create any great stir, after the lapse of a whole night ;
but they found fresh life and notoriety in the breath of the
newsboys, who not only proclaimed them with shrill yells in
all the highways and bye-ways of the town, upon the wharves
and among the shipping, but on the deck and down in the
cabins of the steam-boat ; which, before she touched the shore,
was boarded and overrun by a legion of those young citizens.

" Here's this morning's New York Sewer ! " cried one.
*' Here's this morning's New York Stabber ! Here's the New
York Family Spy ! Here's the New York Private Listener!
Here's the New York Peeper ! Here's the New York
Plunderer ! Here's the New York Keyhole Reporter ! Here's
the New York Rowdv Tournal ! Here's all the New York
papers ! Here's full particulars of the patriotic loco-foco
movement yesterday, in which the whigs was so chawed up ;
and the last Alabama gouging case ; and the interesting
Arkansas dooel with Bowie knives ; and all the Political,
Commercial, and Fashionable News. Here they are ! Here
they are ! Here's the papers, here's the papers ! "

" Here's the Sewer ! " cried another. " Here's the New
York Sewer ! Here's some of the twelfth thousand of to-dav's
Sewer, with the best accounts of the markets, and all the

262 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT.

shipping news, and four whole cohmins of country corre-
spondence, and a full account of the Uall at Mrs. White's last
night, where all the beauty and fashion of New York was
assembled ; with the Sewer's own particulars of the private
lives of all the ladies that was there ! Here's the Sewer !
Here's some of the twelfth thousand of the New York Sewer !
Here's the Sewer's exposure of the Wall Street Gang, and the
Sewer's exposure of the Washington Gang, and the Sewer's
exclusive account of a flagrant act of dishonesty committed
by the Secretary of State when he was eight years old ; now
communicated, at a great expense, by his own nurse. Here's
the Sewer ! Here's the New York Sewer, in its twelfth
thousand, with a whole column of New Yorkers to be shown
up, and all their names printed ! Here's the Sewer's article
upon the Judge that tried him, day afore yesterday, for libel,
and the Sewer's tribute to the independent Jury that didn't
convict him, and the Sewer's account of what they might have
expected if they had ! Here's the Sewer, here's the Sewer !
Here's the wide-awake Sewer ; always on the look-out ; the
leading Journal of the United States, now in its twelfth
thousand, and still a printing off. Here's the New York
Sewer ! "

" It is in such enlightened means," said a voice almost in
Martin's ear, " that the bubbling passions of my country find
a vent."

Martin turned involuntarily, and saw, standing close at
his side, a sallow gentleman, with sunken cheeks, black hair,
small twinkling eyes, and a singular expression hovering about
that region of his face, which was not a frown, nor a leer, and
yet might have been mistaken at the first glance for either.
Indeed it would have been difficult, on a much closer
acquaintance, to describe it in any more satisfactory terms
than as a mixed expression of vulgar cunning and conceit.
This gentleman wore a rather broad-brimmed hat for the
greater wisdom of his appearance ; and had his arms folded
for the greater impressiveness of his attitude. He was some-
what shabbily dressed in a blue surtout reaching nearly to his
ankles-, short loose trousers of the same color, and a faded
buff waistcoat, through which a discolored shirt-frill struggled
to force itself into notice, as asserting an equality of civil
rights with the other portions of his dress, and maintaining a
declaration of Independence on its own account. His feet,
which were of unusually large proportions, were leisurely

»- ^

MA R TIN CHI 'ZZL E WIT. 263

crossed before him as he half leaned against, half sat upon,
the steamboat's bulwark ; and his thick cane, shod with a
mighty ferule at one end and armed with a great metal knob
at the other, depended from a line-and-tassel on his wrist.
Thus attired, and thus composed into an aspect of great pro-
fundity, the gentleman twitched up the right-hand corner of
his mouth and his right eye, simultaneously, and said, once
more .

" It is in such enlightened means, that the bubbling pas-
sions of my country find a vent."

As he looked at Martin, and nobody else was by, Martin
inclined his head, and said :

" You allude to— .' "

" To the Palladium of rational Liberty at home sir, and
the dread of FoTeign oppression abroad," returned the gentle-
man, as he pointed with his cane to an uncommonly dirty
newsboy with one eye " To the Envy of the world, sir, and
the leaders of Human Civilization. Let me ask you, sir," he
added, bringing the ferule of his stick heavily upon the deck
with the air of a man who must not be equivocated with,
" how do you like my Coun-try ? "

"I am hardly prepared to answer that question," said
Martin, •' seeing that I have not been ashore."

"Well, I should expect you were not prepared, sir," said
the gentleman, " to behold such signs of National Prosperity
as those ?"

He pointed to the vessels lying at the wharves ; and then
gave a vague flourish with his stick, as if he would include the
air and water, generally, in this remark.

" Really," said Martin, "I don't know. Yes. I think I was."

The gentleman glanced at him with a knowing look, and
said he liked his policy. It was natural, he said, and it
pleased him as a philosopher to observe the prejudices of hu-
man nature.

" You have brought, I see, sir," he said, turning round
towards Martin, and resting his chin on the top of his stick,
" the usual amount of misery and poverty and ignorance and
crime, to be located in the bosom of the great Republic.
Well, sir ! let 'em come on in ship-loads from the old countr}'.
When vessels are about to founder, the rats are said to leave
'em. There is considerable of truth, I find, in that remark."

"The old ship will keep afloat a year or two longer yet,
perhaps," said Martin with a smile, partly occasioned by what

264 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

tlie gentleman said, and partly by his manner of saying it,
which was odd enough, for he emphasized all the small woids
and syllables in his discourse, and left the others to take care
of themselves, as if he thought the larger parts of speech
could be trusted alone, but the little ones required to be con-
stantly looked after.

" Hope is said by the poet," observed the gentleman, " to
be the nurse of Young Desire."

Martin signified that he had heard of the cardinal virtue
in question serving occasionally in that domestic capacity.

" She will not rear her infant in the present instance, sir,
you'll find," observed the gentleman.

" Time will show," said Martin.

The gentleman nodded his head, gravely, and said ;
"What is your name, sir.''"

Martin told him

" How old are you, sir ? "

Martin told him.

" What is your profession, sir ? "

Martin told him that, also.

"What is your destination, sir,?" inquired the gentleman.

'* Really," said Martin, laughing, " 1 can't satisfy you in
that particular, for I don't know it myself."

" Yes ? " said the gentleman.

" No," said Martin.

The gentleman adjusted his cane under his left arm, and
took a more deliberate and complete survey of Martin than
he had yet had leisure to make. When he had completed his
inspection, he put out his right hand, shook Martin's hand,
and said ;

" My name is Colonel Diver, sir. I am the Editor of the
New York Rowdy Journal."

Martin received the communication with that degree of
respect which an announcement so distinguished appeared to
demand.

" The New York Rowdy Journal, sir," resumed the colo-
nel, " is, as I expect you know, the organ of our aristocracy
in this city"

" Oh ! there is an aristocracy here, then ? " said Martin,
" Of what is it composed .'' "

" Of intelligence, sir," replied the colonel ; " of intelligence
and virtue. And of their necessary consequence in this re-
public. Dollars, sir."

MARTIX CHUZZLEU'IT. 265

Martin was ver}' glad to hear this, feeUng well assured that
if intelligence and virtue led, as a matter of course, to the ac-
quisition of dollars, he would speedily become a great capital-
ist. He was about to express the gratification such news
afforded him, when he was interrupted by the captain of the
ship, who came up at the moment to shake hands with the
colonel ; and who, seeing a well-dressed stranger on the deck
(for Martin had thrown aside his cloak), shook hands with
him also. This was an unspeakable relief to Martin, who, in
spite of the acknowledged supremacy of Intelligence and vir-
tue in that happy countr}', would have been deeply mortified
to appear before Colonel Diver in the poor character of a
steerage passenger.

" Well, cap'en ! " said the colonel.

" Well, colonel ! " cried the captain. " You're looking
most uncommon bright, sir. I can hardly realize its being
you, and that's a fact."

" A good iDassage, cap'en ? " inquired the colonel taking
him aside.

"Well now! It was a pretty spanking run, sir," said, or
rather sung, the captain, who was a genuine New Englander,
" con-siderin the weather."

" Yes ? " said the colonel.

"Well! It was sir," said the captain. "I've just now
sent a boy up to your office with the passenger-list, colonel."

" You haven't got another boy to spare, p'raps, cap'en ? "
said the colonel, in a tone almost amounting to severity.

" I guess there air a dozen if you want 'em, colonel," said
the captain.

" One moderate big 'un could convey a dozen of cham-
pagne, perhaps," obsened the colonel musing, " to my office.
You said a spanking nni, 1 think .'' "

" Well, so I did," was the reply.

" It's very nigh you know," observed the colonel. " I'm
glad it was a spanking run, cap'en. Don't mind about quarts
if you're short of 'em. The boy can as well bring four-and-
twenty pints, and travel twice as once. — A first-rate spanker,
cap'en, was it ? Yes t "

"A most e — tarnal spanker," said the skipper.

" I admire at your good fortun, cap'en. You might loan
me a corkscrew at the same time, and half-a-dozen glasses if
you liked. However bad the elements combine against my
country's noble packet-ship, the Screw, sir," said the colonel,

2 66 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

turning to Martin, and drawing a flourish on the surface of
the deck with his cane, " her passage either way, is ahnost
certain to eventuate a spanker ! "

The captain, who had the Sewer below at that moment,
lunching expensively in one cabin, while the amiable Stabber
was drinking himself into a state of blind madness in another,
took a cordial leave of his friend the colonel, and hurried
away to despatch the champagne, well-knowing (as it after-
wards appeared) that if he failed to conciliate the editor of
the Rowdy Journal, that potentate would denounce him and
his ship in large capitals before he was a day older ; and
would probably assault the memory of his mother also, who
had not been dead more than twenty years. The colonel
being again left alone with Martin, checked him as he was
moving away, and offered, in consideration of his being an
Englishman, to show him the town and to introduce him, if
such were his desire, to a genteel boarding-house. But before
they entered on these proceedings (he said ), he would beseech
the honor of his company at the oihce of the Rowdy Journal,
to partake of a bottle of champagne of his own importation.

All this was so extremely kind and hospitable, that Martin,
though it was quite early in the morning, readily acquiesced.
So, instructing Mark, who was deeply engaged with his friend
and her three children, that when he had done assisting them,
and had cleared the ba2rs:a2fe, he was to wait for further orders
at the Rowdy Journal Office, Martin accompanied his new
friend on shore.

They made their way as they best could through the mel-
ancholy crowd of emigrants upon the wharf, who, grouped
about their beds and boxes, with the bare ground below them
and the bare sky above, might have fallen from another planet,
for anything they knew of the country ; and walked for some
sl'kort distance along a busy street, bounded on one side by
the quays and shipping ; and on the other by a long row of
staring red-brick storehouses and offices, ornamented with
more black boards and white letters, and more white boards
and black letters, than Martin had ever seen before, in fifty
times the space. Presently they turned up a narrow street,
and presentlv into other narrow streets, until at last they
stopped before a house whereon was painted in great charac-
ters, " Rowdy Journal."

The colonel, who had walked the whole way with one hand
in his breast, his head occasionally wagging from side to side,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 267

and liis hat thrown back upon his ears, Hke a man who was
oppressed to inconvenience by a sense of his own greatness,
lead the way up a dark and dirty flight of stairs into a room
of similar character, all littered and bestrewn with odds and
ends of newspapers and other crumpled fragments, both in
proof and manuscript. . Behind a mangy old writing-table in
this apartment, sat a figure with a stump of a pen in its mouth
and a great pair of scissors in its right hand, clipping and
slicing at a file of Rowdy Journals ; and it was such a laugh-
able figure that Martin Jiad some difficulty in preserving his
gravity, though conscious of the close obsen-ation of Colonel
Diver.

The individual who sat clipping and slicing as aforesaid at
the Rowdy Jouraals, was a small young gentleman of very
juvenile appearance, and unwholesomely pale in the face';
partly, perhaps, from intense thought, but partly, there is no
doubt, from the excessive use of tobacco, which he was at
that moment chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt-collar
turned down over a black ribbon ; and his lank hair, a fragile
crop, was not only smoothed and parted back from his brow,
that none of the Poetry of his aspect might be lost, but had,
here and there, been grubbed up by the roots, which account-
ed for his loftiest developments being somewhat pimply. He
had that order of nose on which the envy of mankind has be-
stowed the appellation " snub," and it was ver\' much turned
up at the end, as with a lofty scorn. Upon the upper lip of tiiis
young gentleman, were tokens of a sandy down, so \er\', 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 mustache ; and this conjecture, his apparently
tender age went far to strengthen. He was intent upon his
work. Ever)' time he snapped the great pair of scissors, he
made a corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave him a
very terrible appearance.

Martin was not long in determining within himself that
this must be Colonel Diver's son ; the hope of the family, and
future mainspring of the Rowdy Journal Indeed he had
begun to say that he presumed this was the Colonel's little
boy, and that it was ver}- pleasant to see him plaving at Editor
in all the guilelessness of childhood, when the colonel proudly
interposed and said :

" My War Correspondent, sir. Mr. Jefferson "Trick ! "

Martin could not help starting at this unexpected announce-

268 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ment, and the consciousness of the irretrievable mistake he
had 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 Jefferson Brick I see, sir," quoth the
colonel, with a smile. " England has heard of JefTerson Brick,
Europe has heard of Jefferson Brick. Let me see. When
did 30U leave England, sir ? "

"Five weeks ago," repeated the colonel, thoughtfully; 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," interrupted the colonel,
" that the aristocratic circles of your country quail before
the name of Jefferson Brick. 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 Corruption now
grovelling in the dust beneath the lance of Reason, and
spouting up to the vmiversal arch above us, its sanguinaiy gore,"
said Mr. Brick, putting on a little 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, colonel," cried Brick,
And when he said "blood," he gave the great pair of scissors
a sharp snap, as if ihcy said blood too, and were quite of his
opinion.

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 satisfac-
tory information about it ; for the truth is that I — "

"Stop ! " cried the colonel, glancing sternly at his war cor-
respondent, and giving his head one shake after every sentence.
" That you never heard of Jefferson Brick, sir. That you
never read Jefferson Brick, sir. That you never saw the
Rowdy Journal, sir. That you never knew, sir of its mighty
influence upon the cabinets of Eu — rope. Yes ? "

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

269

" That's what I was about to observe, certainly," said
Martin.

" Keep cool, Jefferson," 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, filling Martin's
glass and his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman,
"will give us a sentiment."

" Well, sir ! " cried the war correspondent, " since you have
concluded to call upon me, I will respond. I will give you,
sir, The Rowdy Journal and its brethren ; the well of Truth,
whose waters are black from being composed of printers' ink,
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'll find Jefferson Brick at his
usual post in the van of human civilization 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 furni-
ture ; and they fell to drinking pretty hard. They often
looked at Martin as he read the paper, and then at each other.
When he laid it down, which was not until they had finished
a second bottle, the colonel asked him what he thought of it.

" Why, it's horribly personal," said Martin.

The colonel seemed much flattered by this remark ; and
said he hoped it was.

" We are independent here, sir," said Mr. Jefferson Brick.
"We do as we like."

" If I may judge from this specimen," returned Martin,
" there must be a few thousands here, rather the reverse of
independent, who do as they don't like."

" Well ! They yield to the miglity 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 ennobling
institutions of our happy country as — "

"As nigger slavery itself," suggested Mr. Brick.

270

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

«

En — tirely so," remarked the colonel.

" Pray," said Martin, after some hesitation, " may I venture
to ask, with reference to a case I observe in this paper of
yours, whether the Popular Instructor often deals in — 1 am
at a loss to express it without giving you offence — in forgery ?
In forged letters, for instance," he pursued, for the colonel
was perfectly calm and quite at his ease, " solemnly purporting
to have been written at recent periods by living men ? "

" Well, sir ! " replied the colonel. " It does, now and
then."

" And the popular instructed ; what do they do .'' " asked
Martin.

" Buy 'em," said the colonel.

Mr Jefferson Brick expectorated and laughed ; 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 American for a
good many things that you call by other names. But you
can't help yourselves in Europe. We can."

" And do, sometimes," thought Martin. " You help your-
selves with very little ceremony, too ! "

" At all events, whatever name we choose to employ," said
the colonel, stooping down to roll the third empty bottle into
a corner after the other two, " I suppose the art of forgery
was not invented here, sir ? "

" I suppose not," replied Martin.

" Nor any other kind of smartness, I reckon ? '

" Invented ! No, I presume not."

" Well ! " said the colonel ; " then we got it all from the
old country, and the old countr^^'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 following, tliey
left the Rowdy Journal Office and walked forth into the
streets, Martin feeling doubtful whether he 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 estab-
lishment could be among the boasted usages of that regene-
rated land.

MAR TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 2 7 1

It was clear that Colonel Diver, in the security of his
strong position, and in his perfect understanding 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 rationally
charge their delight in filth upon him, as a glutton can shift
upon his cook the responsibility of his beasdy 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 ; for that would only
have been a logical assurance to him of the correct adaptation
of his labors to the prevailing taste, and of his being strictly
and peculiarly a national feature of America.

They walked a mile or more along a handsome street
which the colonel said was called Broadway, and which Mr.
Jefferson Brick said " whipped the ui.-iiverse." Turning, at
length, into one of the numerous streets which branched from
this main thoroughfare, they stopped before a rather mean-
looking house with jalousie blinds to every window ; a flight
of steps before the green street-door ; a shining white orna-
ment on the rails on either side like a petritiecl pine-apple,
polished ; a little oblong plate of the same material over the
knocker, whereon the name of " Pawkins " was engraved ;
and four accidental pigs looking down the area.

The colonel knocked at this house with the air of a man
who lived there ; and an Irish girl popped her head out of
one of the top windows to see who it was. Pending her
journey down stairs, the pigs were joined by two or "three
friends from the next street, in company with whom they lay
down sociably in the gutter.

" Is the major in-doors ? " inquired llie colonel, as he en-
tered.

" Is it the master, sir.? " returned the girl, with a hesitation
which seemed to imply that they were rather Rush of majors
in that establishment.

" The master ! " said Colonel Diver, stopping short and
looking round at his war correspondent.

" Oh ! The depressing institutions of that British empire,
colonel " said Jefferson Brick. '' Master ! "

" What's the matter with the word ? " asked Martin.

" I should hope it was never heard in our country, sir :
that's all,"' said Jefferson Brick : "except 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."

272

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" All ' owners,' are they ? " said Martin.

Mr. Jefferson Brick followed in the Rowdy Journal's foot-
steps without returning any answer. Martin took the same
course, thinl^ing as he went, that perhaps the free and inde-
pendent 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 bewildering
collection of cane-bottomed chairs. In a further region of
this 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 together on
the principle of the Siamese Twins. Before it, swinging him-
self in a rocking-chair, lounged a large gentleman with his hat
on, who amused himself by spitting alternately into the spit-
toon on the right hand of the stove, and the spittoon 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, relieved
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, which 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 flavored by a sickly gush of soup from the kitchen,
and by such remote suggestions of tobacco as lingered within
the brazen receptacles already mentioned, it became, to a
stranger's senses, almost insupportable.

The gentleman in the rocking-chair having his back to-
wards them, and being much engaged in his intellectual pas-
time, was not aware of their approach until the colonel walk-
ing 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 —

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 273

'' " 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."

" 1 am glad to see you, sir," obser\'ed the major, shaking
hands with Martin, 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 J''

" I think I remember to have seen it shine at home some-
times," 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 dispute on that point. When he
had thus settled the question, he put his hat a little on one
side for 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
forehead ; 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 further 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. 15ut, in trading on his stock of wis-
dom, he invariably proceeded on the jirinciple of putting all
the goods he had (and more) into his window ; and that went
a great way with his constituency of admirers. It went a
great way, perhaps, with Mr. Jefferson Prick, who took occa-
sion to whisper in Martin's ear :

" One of the most remarkable men in our countr)-, sir ! "

It must not be supposed, however, that the perpetual ex-
hibition in the market-place of all his 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 obligations
involving the good faith 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 3
bold speculator. In plainer words, he had a most distinguished
genius for swindling, and could start a bank, or negociate a
loan, or form a land-jobbing company (entailing ruin, pesti-

18

274

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

lence, 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 that
time could hold forth with more intolerable dulness, chew
more tobacco, smoke more tobacco, drink more rum-toddy,
mint-julep, gin-sling, and cock-tail, 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 i^opular character, and was in a fair way to be sent by the
popular party to the State House of New York, if not in the
end to Washington itself. But as a man's private prosperity
does not always keep pace with his patriotic devotion to pub-
lic affairs ; and as fraudulent 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 other-
wise.

" You have come to visit our countr}', sir, at a season of
great commercial depression," said the major.

" At an alarming crisis," said the colonel.

" At a period of unprecedented stagnation," said Mr.
Jefferson Brick.

" I am soriy to hear that," returned Martin. " It's not
likely to last, I hope ? "

Martin knew nothing about America, or he would have
known perfectly well that if its individual citizens, to a man,
are to be believed, it always is depressed, and always is stag-
nated, and always is at an alarmmg crisis, and never was
otherwise ■ though as a body they are ready to make oath
upon the Evangelists at any hour of the clay 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 the major, "I expect we shall get
along somehow, and come right in the end."

'' We are an elastic countr)'," said the Rowdy Journal.

"We are a young lion," said Mr. Jefferson Brick.

" We have revivifying and vigorous principles within our-
selves," observed the major. " Shall we drink a bitter afore
dinner, colonel 1 "

The colonel assenting to this proposal with great alacrity.
Major Pawkins proposed an adjournment to a neighboring

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

275

bar-room, which, as he observed, was " only in the 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 the dinner hour
was two o'clock, and it only wanted a quarter now. This re-
minded 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 odor of stale tobacco became
so decidedly prevalent as to leave no doubt of its proceeding
mainly from tliat gentleman's attire. Indeed, as Martin
walked behind him to the bar-room, he could not help think-
ing 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 the
decent growth of that preserve, and tossed on some congenial
dung-hill.

They encountered more weeds in the bar-room, soine of
whom (being thirsty souls as w'ell as dirty) were pretty stale
in one sense, and pretty fresh in another. Among them was
a gentleman who, as Martin gathered from the conversation
that took place over the bitter, started that afternoon for the
Far West on a six months' business tour ; and who, as his
outfit and equipment for this journev, had just such another
shiny hat and just such another little pale valise, as had com-
posed the luggage of the gentleman who came from England
in the Screw.

They were walking back veiy leisurely, Martin 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 pre-
cipitate dive in the same direction, and vanished also.

"Good Heaven!" thought Martin. "The premises are
on fire ! It was an alarm-bell ! "

But there was no smoke to be seen, nor any i1amc. nor
was there any smell of fire. As Martin faltered on the pave-

276 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

ment, three more gentlemen, with horror and agitation de^
picted 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 heap of
arms and legs. Unable to bear it an)^ longer, Martin fol-
lowed. Even in his 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 room, sa. 'Kernell, sa, him kep a seat 'side
himself, 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
humor, and desire to please, so heartily responded, that his
teeth shone like a gleam of light. " You're the pleasantest
fellow I have seen yet," said Martin, clapping 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, eighteen or twenty perhaps.
Of these some fi\e or six were ladies, who sat wedged to-
gether in a little phalanx by themselves. All the knives and
forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming ;
very few words were spoken ; and everybody seemed to eat
his utmost in self-defence, 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 — disappeared as rapidly as if every bird had had the
use of its wings, and had flown in desperation down a human
throat; The oysters, stewed and pickled, leaped from their
capacious reservoirs, and slid by scores into the mouths of
the assembl}'. The sharpest pickles vanished, whole cucum-
bers a once, like sugar-plums, and no man winked his eye.
Great heaps of indigestible matter melted away as ice before
the sun. It was a solemn and an awful thins: to see. Dvs-

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 277

peptic individuals bolted their food in wedges ; feeding 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 dishes, 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 had one comfort. It
was very soon o\er.

When the colonel had finished his dinner, which event
took place while Martin, who had sent his plate for some
turkey, was waiting to begin, he asked him what he thought
of the boarders, who were from all parts of the Union, and
whether he would like to know any particulars concerning
them. .r-

" Pray," said Martin, '"who was that sickly little girl op-
posite, with the tight round eyes ? I don't see anybody 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. Jefferson Prick,
sir."

"No, no," said Martin, " I mean the little girl, like a doll ;
directly opposite."

" Well, sir ! " cried the colonel. " TJiat 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 J]rick
then, one of these days "i " 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," re-
turned the colonel, "but some institutions develop Jiuman
natur : others re — tard it."

"Jefferson Brick," he observed after a short silence, in
commendation of his correspondent, " is one of the most re-
markable men in our country, sir ! "

This had passed almost in a whisper, for the distinguished
gentleman alluded to, sat on Martin's other hand.

■ "Pray^ \ix. Brick," said Martin turning to him, and ask-
ing a question more for conversation's sake than from any
feeling of interest in its subject, "who is that" — he was

278 ' MARTIN CHUZZLF.WIT.

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 MulUt, sir," replied Jefferson.

" May I ask what he is Professor of ? " asked Martin.

" Of education, sir," said Jefferson Brick.

" A sort of schoolmaster, possibly 'i " Martin ventured to
observe.

" He is a man of fine moral elements, sir, and not com-
monly endowed," said the war correspondent. " He felt it
necessary, at the last election for President, to repudiate and
denounce his father, who voted on the wrong interest. He
has since written some powerful pamphlets, under the signa-
ture of ' Suturb,' or Brutus reversed. He is one of the most
remarkable men in our countiy, sir."

"There seem to be plenty of 'em," thought Martin, "at
'any rate."

Pursuing his inquiries, Martin found that there 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 each other ; or if
they did not, where on earth the pri\'ates came from. There
seemed to be no man there without a title ; for those who
liad not attained to military honors were either doctors, pro-
fessors, or reverends. Three very hard and disagreeable
gentlemen were on missions from neighboring 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 ^amsel, 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 night have changed minds with the 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 remarkable people in the countr)^

Several of the gentlemen got up, one by one, and walked
off as they swallowed their last morsel ; pausing generally by
the stove for a minute or so to refresh themselves at the brass
spittoons. A few sedentary characters, however, remamed at
table full a quarter of an hour, and did not rise until the
ladies rose, when all stood up.

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 279

" 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 conversation ? "
asked Martin, who was disposed to enjoy 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. JeiTerson Brick
and such other married gentlemen as were left, acknowledging
the departure of their other halves by a nod ; and there was
an end of thejii. Martin thought this an uncomfortable cus-
tom, but he kept his opinion to liimself for the present, being
anxious to hear; and inform himself, by the conversation of
the busy gentlemen, 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 made a plentiful use of the spit-
toons and their toothpicks. v.

It was rather barren of interest, to say the truth ; and theS
greater part of it may be summed up in one word. Dollars.
All their cares, hopes, joys, affections, virtues, and associa-
tions, seemed to be melted down into dollars. Whatever the
chance contributions that fell into the slow cauldron of their
talk, they made the gruel thick and slab with dollars. Men
were weighed by their dollars, measures gauged by their dol-
lars ; life was auctioneered, appraised, put up, and knocked
down for its dollars. The next respectable thing to dollars
was any venture having their attainment for its end. The
more of that worthless ballast, honor and fair dealing, which
any man cast overboard from the ship of his Good Name and
Good Intent, the more ample stowage-room he had for dollars.
Make commerce one huge lie and mighty theft. Deface the
banner of the nation for an idle rag ; pollute it star by star ;
and cut out stripe by stripe as from the arm of a degraded
soldier. Do anything for dollars 1 What is a flag to ih m ! ^

One who rides at all hazards of limb and life in tiie 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
decency. He was their champion, who in the brutal fury of
his own pursuit, could cast no stigma upon them, for the hot
knavery of theirs. Thus, Martin learned m the five minutes'
straggling talk about the stove, that to carry pistols into legis'

2So MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

lative assemblies, and swords in sticks, and other such peace-
ful toys ; to seize opponents by the throat, as dogs or rats
might do ; to bluster, bully, and overbear by personal assail-
ment ; were glowing deeds. Not thrusts and stabs at Freedom,
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
seventh heaven of Fame.

Once or twice, when there was a pause, Martin asked such
questions as naturally occurred to him, being a stranger, aboui
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. Jef-
ferson Brick, and others, renowned, as it appeared, for excel-
lence in the achievment 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 no-
tions. We don't mind 'em if they come to us in newspapers
along with almighty strong stuff of another sort, but darn your
books."

Here the general, who appeared to grow quite faint at the
bare thought of reading anything which was neither mercantile
nor political, and was not in a newspaper, inquired " if any
gentleman would drink some ? " Most of the company, con-
sidering this a very choice and seasonable idea, lounged out,
one by one, to the bar-room m 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 discussion of screamers ; and
thence each man to snore in the bosom of his own family.

" Which Avould seem," said Itlartin, pursuing the current
of his own thoughts, " to be the principal recreation they en
joy in common." With that, he fell a-musing again on dollars,
demagogues, and bar-rooms; debating within himself whether
busy people of this class were really as busv as they claimed to
be, or only had an inaptitude for social and domestic pleasure.

It was a difficult question to solve ; and the mere fact of
its being strongly presented to his mind by all that he had
seen and heard, was not encouraging. He sat down at the
deserted board, and becoming more and more despondent, as
he thought of all the uncertainties and difficulties of his pre-
carious situation, sighed heavily.

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 281

Now, there had been at tlie dinner-table a middle-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 neighbors, who seemed to
consider him quite beneath their notice. He had taken no
part in the conversation round the sto\'e, 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 re-
mark, as if he desired, without obtruding himself upon a
stranger's notice, to engage him in cheerful conversation if he
could. His motive was so obvious, and yet so delicately 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 anticipate your feeling on that point. But, as
I am an American, and consequently bound to begin with a
question, I'll ask you how you like the colonel ? "

" You are so very frank,'" returned Martin, " that I have
no hesitation \\\ saying I don't like him at all. Though I must
add that 1 am beholden to him for his civility in bringing me
here— and arranging for my stay, on pretty reasonable terms,
by the way," he added — remembering that the colonel had
whispered him to that effect, before going out.

" Not much beholden," said the stranger dryly. " 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 percentage 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 the truth, I — am — "

" Yes ? " said the gentleman, sitting down beside him.

" I am rather at a loss, since I must speak 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
whom our own Franklin so long ago as ten vears before the
close of the last century, foresaw our danger and disgrace.
Perhaps you don't know that Franklin, in very severe terms,

282 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

published his opinion that those who were slandered by such
fellows as this colonel, having no sufficient remedy in the
administration of this country's laws or in the decent and right-
minded feeling of its people, were 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 it, and I think it worthy of his memory ; espe-
cially " — here he hesitated again.

" Go. on," said the other, smiling as if he knew what stuck
in Martin's throat.

" Especially," pursued Martin, "as I can already under-
stand that it may have required great courage, even in his
time, to write freely on any question 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 veiy 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
have any knowledge of our literature, and can give me the
name of any man, American born and bred, who has anato-
mized our follies as a people, and not as this or that party ;
and who has escaped the foulest and most brutal slander, the
most inveterate hatred and intolerant pursuit ; it will be a
strange name in my ears, believe me. In some cases I could
name to vou, where a native writer has ventured on the most
harmless and good-humored illustrations of our vices or defects,
it has been found necessary to announce, that in a second
edition the passage has been expunged, or altered, or explained
away, or patched into praise."

" And how has this been brought about .-' " asked Martin
in dismay.

" Think of what you have seen and heard to-day, beginning
with the colonel," said his friend, "and ask yourself. How
they came about, is another question. Heaven forbid that
they should be samples of the intelligence and virtue of
America, but they come uppermost, and in great numbers, and
too often represent it. Will you walk .-' "

There was a cordial candor in his manner, and an engaging
confidence that it would not be abused ; a manly bearing on
his own part, and a simple reliance on the manly faith of a
stranger, which Martin had never seen before. He linked

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 283

his arm readily in that of the American gentleman, and they
walked out together.

It was perhaps to men like this, his new companion, that a
traveller of honored name, who trod those shores now nearly
forty years ago, and woke upon 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 :

" oil but 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 OPPOR-
TUNITY OF COMPARING HIS OWN EXPERIENCES WITH THOSE
OF LUMMY NED OF THE LIGHT 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 completely as if there had
been no such person in existence, or, if for a moment the
figure of that gentleman rose before his mental vision, had
dismissed it as something by no means of a pressing nature,
which might be attended to by and by, and could wait his per-
fect 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, that if they could conveniently walk in that
direction, he would be glad to get this piece of business off
his mind.

" And speaking of business," said Martin, " may I ask, in
order that 1 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 w-as 'raised' in the
State of Massachusetts, and reside there still. My home is

284

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

in a quiet country town. I am not often in these busy places ;
and my inclination to visit them does not increase with oul
better acquaintance, 1 assure you."

" You have been abroad } " asked Martin.

" Oh yes."

"And, like most people who travel, have become more
than ever attached to your home and native country," said
Martin, eyeing him curiously.

''To my home, yes," rejoined his friend. "To my native
country as my home — 3es, also."

" You imply some reservation," said Martin.

" Well," returned his new friend, " if you ask 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 rate of so
many dollars a day) to be her friends ; with a cooler indiffer-
ence to the growth of principles among us in respect of public
matters and of private dealings between man and man, the
advocacy 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 same 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 which
broadly divides society into two classes — whereof one, the
great mass, asserts a spurious independence, most miserably
dependent for its mean existence on the disregard of human-
izing conventionalities of manner and social custom, so that
the coarser a man is, the more distinctly it shall appeal to his
taste ; while the other, disgusted with the low standard thus
set up and made adaptable to eveiything, 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 odcJ way as
before, being anxious and disconcerted ; not so much, to say
the truth, on public grounds, as with reference to the fading
prospects of domestic architecture.

" In a word," resumed the other, " I do not find and cannot
believe, and therefore will not allow, that we are a model of
wisdom, and an example to the world, and the perfection of
human reason, and a great deal more to the same purpose,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

2S5

which you may hear any hour in the day ; simply because we
began our pohtical Ufe 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
other nations have passed ; and so had all the light of their
probation, and none of its darkness. The other, that we have
a vast 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 coun-
tries, and despotic countries too, have done as much, if not
more, and made -less noise about it. We shine out brightly in
comparison with England, certainly ; but hers is a very extreme
case. You complimented me on my frankness, you know," he
added, laughing.

" Oh ! I am not at all astonished at your speaking thus
openly when my country is in question," returned Martin. " It
is your plain-speakmg 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, anrl Jefferson J hicks, and
Major Pawkinses ; though the best of us are something like
the man in Goldsmith's comedy, who wouldn't suffer anybody
but himself to abuse his master. Come ! " he added. " Let
us talk of something else. You have come here on some de-
sign 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 impertinence in the
manner of this offer, which was open-hearted, unaffected, and
good-natured. As it was next to impossible that he should
not have his confidence awakened by a deportment so pre-
possessing and kind, Martin plainly stated what had brought
him into those parts, and even made the very difficult avowal
that he was poor. He did not say how poor, it must be ad-
mitted, rather throwing oft" the declaration with an air which
might have implied that he had money enough for six months,
instead of as many weeks ; but poor he said he was, and
grateful he said he would be, for any counsel that his friend
would give him.

286 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

It would not have been ver}' difficult for any one to see,
but it was particularly easy for Martin, whose perceptions
were sharpened by his circumstances, to discern, that the
stranger's face grew infinitely longer as the domestic-archi-
tecture project was developed. Nor, although he made a great
effort to be as encouraging as possible, could he prevent his
head from shaking once involuntarily, as if it said in the vulgar
tongue, upon its own account, " No go ! " But he spoke in a
cheerful tone, and said, that although there was no such open-
ing as Martin wished, in that city, he would make it matter of
immediate consideration and inquiry where one was most
likely to exist ; and then he made Martin acquainted with his
name, which was Bevan ; and with his profession, which was
physic, 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, whistling " Rule Britannia " with all his might
and main, greeted 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, apparently performing his national anthem for the
gratification of a gray-haired black man, who sat on one of the
outworks (a portmanteau), staring intently at Mark, while
Mark, with his head reclining on his hand, returned the com-
pliment in a thoughtful manner, and whistled all the time.
He seemed to have recently dined, for his knife, a case-bottle,
and certain broken meats in a handkerchief, lay near at hand.
He had employed a portion of his leisure in the decoration of
the Rowdy Journal door, whereon his own initials now ap-
peared in letters nearly half afoot 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 whistled) that they never,
never, never.

" Nothing gone wrong, I hope, sir ? "

" No, Mark. Where's your friend ? "

" The mad woman, sir 'i " said Mr. Tapley. " Oh ! she's
all right, sir,"

MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT. 287

" Did she find her husband ? "

" Yes, sir. Least ways she's found his remains," 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 quite reconcilable with being
alive. When she didn't see him a waiting for her, I thought
she'd have died herself, I did ! "

" Was he not here, then .'' "

" He wasn't here. There was a feeble old shadow 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 re-
mains, there's no doul)t about that. She took on with joy,
poor thing, as much as if it had been all of him ! "

" Had he bought land .^ " asked Mr. Bevan.

"Ah ! He'd bought land," said Mark, shaking his head,
" and paid for it too. Every sort of nateral advantage was
connected with it, the agents said ; and there certainly was
one, quite unlimited. No end to the water ! "

" It's a thing he couldn't have done without, I suppose,"
observed Martin, peevishly.

" Certainly not, sir. There it was, any way ; always turned
on, and no water-rate. Independent of three or four slimy old
rivers close by, it varied on the farm from four to six foot
deep in the dry season. He couldn't say how deep it was in
the rainy time, for he ne\-er had anything long enough to
sound it with."

" Is this true? " asked Martin of his companion.

" E.xtremely 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 steam-boat this
blessed afternoon, as happy to be along with each other, as if
they were 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 the negro, " who this gentleman is .''
Another friend of yours ? "

"Why, sir," returned Mark, taking him aside, and speak-
ing confidentially in his ear, " he's a man of color, sir ? "

" Do you take me for a blind man," asked Martin, some*

288 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

what 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 color," returned 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. Tap-
ley, favoring 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 Mark in the same tone. " Nothing else. A
slave. Why, when that there man was young — don't look at
him, while I'm a telling it — he was shot in the leg ; gashed in
the arm ; scored in his live limbs, like crimped fish ; beaten
out of shape ; had his neck galled with an iron collar, and
wore iron rings upon his wrists and ankles. The marks arc
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 doubt it," he answered, 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 a hatchet by another
slave, who, when he'd done it, 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 ! "
cried Mr. Tapley, becoming excited. " Liberty for ever !
Hurrah ! Hail, Columbia ! "

" Hush ! " 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 1 a77i jolly ; and if
I was rich enough to contract with him to wait upon me once
a day, to be looked at, I'd never be anything else."

The fact may cause a solemn impeachment of Mark's
veracity, but it must be admittetl nevertheless, that there was
that in his face and manner at the moment, which militated

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 289

Strongly against this emphatic declaration of his state of
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'll at-
tend 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 portion 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 hesitation, whether that young man
was to be trusted .''

" Mark ! Oh certainly ! with anything."

" You don't understand me. 1 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 otherwise. This is not a
slave State ; but I am ashamed to say that a spirit of Toler-
ance is not so common anywhere 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 such public buildings as Mr. Bevan pointed
out. Night then coming on apace, Martin proposed that they

19

290 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

should adjourn to Mrs. Pawkins's establishment for coffee ;
but in this he was overruled by his 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 lived
hard by. Feeling (however disinclined he was, being weary)
that it would be in bad taste, and not very gracious, to object
that he was unintroduced, when this open-hearted gentleman
was so ready 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, trav-
velling had done him that much good, already.

Mr. Bevan knocked at the door of a very neat house of
moderate size, from the parlor 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, asi 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 phenomenon, 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. Chuz-
zlewit 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 ease,
by the fireside, and becommg vastly well acquamted with the
whole family.

There were two young ladies — one eighteen, the other
twenty — both very slender, but very pretty ; their mother,
who looked, as Martin thought, 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 affairs ; the
second, a student at college ; both, in a certain cordiality of
manner, like his own friend, 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 two young ladies, because they were fore-
most in his thoughts ; not only from being, as aforesaid, very
pretty, but by reason of their wearing miraculously small shoes,

MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT.

291

and the thinnest possible silk stockings, the which their rock-
ing-chairs 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 decora-
tions, including four small shoes, and the like amount of silk

stockings, and yes, why not ? — the feet and legs therein

enshrined. And there is no doubt that Martin was monstrous
well-disposed to regard his position in that light, after his
recent experience of the Screw, and of Mrs. Pawkins's board-
ing-house. The consequence was, that he made himself very
agreeable indeed ; and by the time the tea and coffee arrived
(with sweet preserves, and cunning tea-cakes in its train), was
in a highly gejiial state, and much esteemed by the whole
family.

Another delightful circumstance turned up before the first
cup of tea was drunk. The whole family had been in Eng-
land. There was a pleasant thing ! But Martin was not
quite so glad of 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 least particular concerning them. How-
ever, when they asked after the wearer of this or that coronet,
and said, " Was he quite well ? " Martin answered, " Yes, oh
yes. Never better • " and when they said, '' his lordship's
mother, the duchess, was she 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 manner
when the young ladies questioned him touching the Gold
Fish in that Grecian fountain in such and such a nobleman's
conservatorv, and whether there were as manv as there used
to be, he gravely reported, after mature consideration, that
there must be at least twice as many ; and as to the exotics,
" Oh ! well ! it was of no use talking about t/icrn ; they must
be seen to be believed;" which improved state of circum-
stances reminded the family of the splendor of that brilliant
festival (comprehending the whole British Peerage and Court
Calendar) to which they were specially invited, and which
indeed had been partly given in their honor ; 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,
I when they said that upon their words and honors they wished

2^2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Norris the father and Mrs. Norris the mother, and the
Misses Norris the daughters, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son,
would only take up their permanent residence in England,
and give them the pleasure of their everlasting friendship,
occupied a very considerable time.

Martin thought it rather strange, and in some sort incon-
sistent, that during the whole of these narrations, and in
the very meridian of their enjoyment thereof, both Mr. Norris
the father, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son (who corresponded,
every post, with four members of the English Peerage), en-
larged upon the inestimable advantage of having no such arbi-
trary distinctions in that enlightened land, where there were
no noblemen but nature's noblemen, and where 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 swelling 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 honor of know-
ing 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 the 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 appeared that all the Norrises were aboli-
tionists. It was a great relief to hear this, and Martin was so
much encouraged on finding himself in such company, that he
expressed his sympathy with the oppressed and wretched
blacks. Now, one of the young ladies — the prettiest and most
delicate — was mightily amused at the earnestness with which
he spoke ; and on his craving leave to ask her why, was quite
unable for a time to speak for laughing. As soon however as
she could, she told him that the negroes were such a funny
people ; so excessively ludicrous in their manners and appear-
ance ; that it was wholly impossible for those who knew them
well, to associate any serious ideas with such a very absurd
part of the creation. Mr. Norris the father, and Mrs. Norris
the mother, 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 mat-

MARTLY CHUZZLEVVIT.

293

ter 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 grotesque
of apes, or, morally, as the mildest Nimrod 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 bargain and sale of unborn
generations."

Mr. Norris the son said nothing, but he made a wr}^ face,
and dusted his fingers as Hamlet might after getting rid of
Yorick'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 might 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
colors, and had every article of dress on the same extensive scale
as the little shoes and the thin silk stockings. This suggested
to him that they were great proficients in the French fashions,
which soon turned out to be the case, for though their infor-
mation appeared to be none of the newest, it was verj' exten-
sive ; and the eldest sister in particular, who was distinguished
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 obser\'ed to reduce foreigners to a state of tem-
porary 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 \Iisses Norris, pres-
ently began. They sang in all languages — except their own.
German, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Swiss ; but
nothing native — nothing so low as native. For, in this re-
spect, 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 in-

294 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

terrupted by an announcement from the Irishman, who fling-
ing open the door, cried in a loud voice :

"Jiniral Flad'dock ! "

" My ! " cried the sisters, desisting suddenly. " The gen-
eral come back ! "

As they made the exclamation, the general, attired in full
uniform for a ball, came darting in with such precipitancy,
that, hitching his boot in the carpet, and getting his sword be-
tween his legs, he came down headlong, and presented a curi-
ous little bald place on the crown of his head to the 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 mili-
tary history.

Of course there was an immediate rush to his assistance ;
and the general was promptly raised. 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 com-
mand whatever of himself until he was put quite flat upon the
soles of his feet, when he became animated 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 epaulettes
by brushing them against anything, advanced with a smiling
visage to salute the lady of the house.

To be sure, it would have been impossible for the family
to testify purer delight and joy than at this unlooked-for ap-
pearance of General Fladdock ! 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 all round, and then re-
viewed them from a little distance as a brave commander
might, with his ample cloak drawn forward over the right
shoulder 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, gen-
eral."

Then all the Norrises pressed round the general, inquiring
how and where he had been since the date of his letter, and
how he had enjoyed himself in foreign parts, and particularly
and above all, to what extent he had become acquainted with

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 295

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 general, holding up
his hand. " I was among 'em all the time, and have got pub-
lic journals in my trunk with my name printed " — he lowered
his v'oice and was ver)' impressive here—" among the fashion-
able news. But, oh the conventionalities of that a-mazing
Eu — rope ! "

" Ah ! " cried Mr. Norris the father, mving his head a
melancholy shake, and looking towards Martin as though he
would say, "I can't deny it, sir. I would if I could."

" The limited diffusion of a moral sense in that country ! "
exclaimed the general. " The absence of a moral dignity in
man ! "

" Ah ! " sighed all the Norrises, quite overwhelmed with
despondency.

" 1 couldn't have realized it," pursued the general, '' with-
out being located on the spot. Norris, your imagination is
the imagination of a strong man, but yoic couldn't have realized
it, without being located on the spot ! "

" Never," said Mr. Norris.

" The ex-clusiveness, 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 man ; the division of the human race into court cards
and plain cards, of every denomination — into clubs, diamonds,
spades, anything but hearts ! "

" Ah ! " cried the whole family. " Too true, general ! "

" But stay ! " cried Mr. Norris the father, taking him by
the arm. " Surely you crossed in the Screw, general ? "

" Well ! so I did," M'as the reply.

" Possible ! " cried the young ladies. " Only think ! "

The general seemed at a loss to understand why his having
come home in the Screw should occasion such a sensation, nor
did he seem at all clearer on the subject when Mr. Norris,
introducing him to Martin, said :

" A fellow-passenger of yours, I think ? "

" Of mine ?" exclaimed the general ; " No ! "

He had never seen Martin, but Martin had seen him, and
recognized him, now that they stood face to face, as the gentle-
man who had stuck his hands in his pockets towards the end
of the voyage, and walked the deck with his nostrils dilated.

296

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Everybody looked at Martin. There was no help for it.
The truth must out.

" I came over in the same ship as the general," said Martin,
" but not in the same cabin, it being necessary for me to
observe strict economy, I took my passage in the steerage."

If the general had been carried up bodily to a loaded can-
non, and required to let it off that moment, he could not have
been in a state of greater consternation that when he heard
these words. He, Fladdock, Fladdock in full militia uniform,
Fladdock the General, Fladdock the carressed of foreign
noblemen, expected to know a fellow who had come over in
the steerage of a line-of-packet ship, at the 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 relation had, by his imprudence,
for ever disgraced them, lliey were the bright particular
stars of an exalted New York sphere. There were other
fashionable spheres above them, and other fashionable 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 through all the spheres it would go forth, that the Norrises,
deceived by gentlemanly manners and appearances, had, falling
from their high estate, " received " a dollarless and unknown
man. O guardian eagle of the pure Republic, had they 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
within.

" Come, come," said Mr. Norris the father looking with a
pale face on the assembled circle as Martin closed the door,
'* the young man has this night behold 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 transatlantic article a moral sense, — for

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

297

if native statesmen, orators, and pamphleteers, are to be be-
lieved, America quite monopolizes the commodity, — if that
peculiarly transatlantic article be supposed to include a be-
nevolent love of all mankind, certainly Martin's would have
borne, just then, a deal of waking. As he strode along the
street, with Mark at his heels, his immoral sense was in active
operation ; 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 entreating him to
walk slowly, was silent for some minutes. At length he said :

" 1 hope you exonerate me in another sense? "

" How do you mean t " asked Martin.

" I hope you acquit me of intending or foreseeing the ter-
mination of our visit. But I scarcely need ask you tiial."

" Scarcely indeed," said Martin. *' I am the more be-
holden to you for your kindness, when I find what kind of
stuff the good citizens here are made of."

" I reckon," his friend returned, " that they are made of
pretty much 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 anomaly in the matter of it "i "

" Yes indeed!"

" Doubtless it is more ridiculous here than anywhere else,"
said his companion ; " but our professions are to blame for
that. So far as I myself am concerned, I may add that I was
perfectly aware from the first that you came over in the
steerage, for I had seen the list of passengers, and knew it
did not comprise your name."

" I feel more obliged to you than before," said Martin.

" Norris is a very good fellow in his way," observed Mr,
Bevan.

" Is he?" said Martin dryly.

" Oh yes ! there are a hundred good points about him. If
you or anybody else addressed iiim as another order of l)eing,
and sued to him in forma pauperis, he would be all kindness
and consideration."

298

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" 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 drinking tea ; out
of the ordinary course, evidently, for they were bonneted and
shaw^led, and seemed to have just come home. By the light
of three flaring candles of different lengths, in as many can-
dlesticks of different patterns, the room showed to almost as
little advantage as in broad day.

These ladies were all three talking together in a very loud
tone when Martin and his friend entered ; but seeing those
gentlemen, they stopped directly, and became excessively
genteel, not to say frosty. As they went on to exchange some
few remarks in whispers, the very water in the tea-pot might
have fallen twenty degrees in temperature beneath their chil-
ling coldness.

" Have you been to meeting, Mrs. Brick 1 " asked Martin's
friend, with something of a roguish twinkle in his eye.

" To lecture, sir."

" I beg you 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 t " asked Mr. Bevan, addressing
this lady.

The lady raised her eyes in a pious manner, and answered
" Yes." She had been much comforted by some good, strong,
peppery doctrine, which satisfactorily disposed of all her
friends and acquaintances, and quite settled their business.
Her bonnet, too, had far outshone every bonnet in the con-
gregation ; 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 Wednesdays."

" On Mondays .? "

" The Philosophy of Crime."

" On Fridays ? "

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 299

"The Philosophy of Vegetables."

" You have forgotten Thursdays ; the Philosophy of Gov-
ernment, mv 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 must be pretty well engrossed."

Martin stopped here, for he saw that the ladies regarded
him with no very great favor, though what he had done to
deser\'e the disdainful expression which appeared in their
faces he was at a loss to divine. But on their going up stairs
to their bed-rooms — which they very soon did — Mr. Bevan
informed him that domestic drudgery was far beneath the
exalted range of these Philosophers, and that the chances were
a hundred to one that not one of the three could perform the
easiest woman's work for herself, or make the simplest article
of dress for any of her children.

" Though whether they might not be better employed with
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. Devotions
and lectures are our balls and concerts. They go to these
places of resort, as an escape from monotony ; look at each
other's clothes ; and come home again."

" When you say ' home,' do you mean a house like this ? "

" Very often. But I see you are tired to death, and will
wish you good-night. We will discuss your projects in the
morning.. You cannot but feel already that it is useless stay-
ing 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, you know.
Good-night."

They 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 bed.

300 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

In twelve or fifteen hours, how great a change had fallen
on his hopes and sanguine plans ! 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 enter-
prize was doomed. Rash and ill-considered as it had often
looked on shipboard, 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 relief. Even the dia-
monds on his finger sparkled 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 neighboring bar-rooms,
and after taking 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 ! " he cried, starting.

" All right, sir,"' said that cheerful follower, snuffing 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, all the water you've got to wash in, and arterwards
eat the towel. But you'll sleep without rocking to-night,

sir."

" I feel as if the house were on the sea," said Martin,
staggering when he rose ; " and am utterly wretched."

" I'm as jolly 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 care how you go," for they were
now ascending the stairs. " You recollect the gentleman
aboard the Screw as had the very small trunk, sir 1 "

" The valise ? Yes."

" Well, sir, there's been a delivery of clean clothes from
the wash to-night, and they're put outside the bed-room doors
here. If you take notice as we go up, what a very few shirts
there are, and what a many fronts, you'll penetrate the mys-
tery of his packing."

But Martin was too weary and despondent to take heed of
anything, so had no interest in this discovery. Mr. Tapley,
nothing dashed by his indifference, conducted him to the top

MARTIN CHUZZLElVfT. ^oi

of the house, and into the bed-chamber prepared for his re-
ception, which was a very Uttle narrow room, with half a
window in it, a bedstead like a chest without a lid, two
chairs, a piece of carpet, such as shoes are commonly tried
upon at a ready-made establishment in England ; a little look-
ing-glass nailed against the wall, and a washing table, with
a jug and ewer that might have been mistaken for a milk-
pot and slop-basin.

"I suppose they polish themselves with a dr\' cloth in
this country," said Mark. "They've certainly got a touch of
the 'phoby, sir."

" I wish you would pull off my boots for me," said Martin,
dropping into one of the chairs. " I am quite knocked up.
Dead beat, Mark."

" You won't say that to-morrow morning, sir," returned
Mr. Tapley ; " nor even to-night, sir, when you've made a trial
of this." V\'ith which he produced a very large tumbler, piled
up to the brim with little blocks of clear transparent ice,
through which one or two thin slices of lemon, and a golden
liquid of delicious appearance, appealed from the still depths
below, to the loving eye of the spectator.

"What do you call this ? " said Martin.

But Mr. Tapley made no answer, merely plunging a reed
into the mixture — which caused a pleasant commotion among
the pieces of ice — and signifying by an expressive gesture
that it was to be pumped up through that agency by the en-
raptured drinker.

Martin took the glass, with an astonished look, applied
his lips to the reed, and cast up his eyes once in ecstasy.
He paused no more until the goblet was drained to the last
drop.

" There, sir ! " said Mark, taking it from him with a
triumphant face ; " If ever you should happen to be dead
beat again, when I ain't in the way, all you"ve got to do is, to
ask the nearest man to go and fetch a cobbler."

" To go and fetch a cobbler ? " repealed Martin.

"This wonderful invention, sir," said Mark, . tenderlv
patting the empty glass, '' is called a cobbler. Sherry cobbler
when you name it long ; cobbler, when you name it short.
Now you're equal to having your boots took off, and are, in
every particular worth mentioning, another man."

Having deli\ered himself of this solemn preface, he
brought the boot-jack.

3 02 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" Mind ! I am not going to relapse, Mark," said Martin ;
" but, good Heaven, if we should be left in some wild part of
this country without goods or money ! "

"Well, sir!" replied the imperturbable Tapley ; "from
what we've seen already, I don't know whether, under those
circumstances, we shouldn't do better in the wild parts than
in the tame ones."

" Oh, Tom Pinch, Tom Pinch ! " said Martin, in a
thoughtful tone ; " what would I give to be again beside you,
and able to hear your voice, though it were even in the old
bedroom at Pecksniff's ! "

" Oh, Dragon, Dragon ! " echoed Mark, cheerfully, " if
there warn't any water between you and me, and nothing faint-
hearted-like in going back, I don't know that I mightn't say
the same. But here am I, Dragon, in New York, America ;
and there are you in Wiltshire, Europe ; and there's a fortune
to make, Dragon, and a beautiful young lady to make it for ;
and whenever you go to see the Monument, Dragon, you
mustn't give in on the door-steps, or you'll never get up to
the top ! "

" Wisely said, Mark," cried Martin. " We must look for-
ward."

" In all the story-books as ever I read, sir, the people as
looked backward was turned into stones," replied Mark ;
" and my opinion always was, that they brought it on them-
selves, and it served 'em right. I wish you good-night, sir,
and pleasant dreams ! "

" They must be of home, then," said Martin, as he lay
down in bed.

"So I say, too," whispered Mark Tapley, when he was out
of hearing and in his own room ; " for if there don't come a
time afore we're well out of this, when there'll be a little more
credit in keeping up one's jollity, I'm a United Statesman ! "

Leaving them to blend and mingle in their sleep the
shadows of objects afar oft", as they take fantastic shapes upon
the wall in the dim light of thought without control, be it the
part of this slight chronicle — a dream within a dream — as
rapidly to change the scene, and cross the ocean to the
English shore.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 303

CHAPTER XVIII.

DOES BUSINESS WITH THE HOUSE OF ANTHONY CHUZZLEWIT
AND SON, FROM WHICH ONE OF THE PARTNERS RETIRES
UNEXPECTEDLY.

Change begets change. Nothing propagates so fast. If a
man habituated to a narrow circle of cares and pleasures, out
of which he seldom travels, step beyond it, though for never
so brief a spac^, his departure from the monotonous scene
on which he has been an actor of importance, would seem to
be the signal for instant confusion. As if, in the gap he had
left, the wedge of change were driven to the head, rending
what was a solid mass to fragments, things cemented and held
together by the usages of years, burst asunder in as many
weeks. The mine which Time has slowly dug beneath
familiar objects, is sprung in an instant ; and what was rock
before, becomes but sand and dust.

Most men, at one time or other, have proved this in some
degree. The extent to which the natural laws of change
asserted their supremacy in that limited sphere of action
which Martin had deserted, shall be faithfully set down in
these pages.

" What a cold spring it is ! " whimpered old Anthony,
drawing near the evening fire. " It was a warmer season,
sure, when I was young ! "

"You needn't go scorching your clothes into holes,
whether it was or not," obser\ed the amiable Jonas, raising
his eyes from yesterday's newspaper. " Broadcloth ain't so
cheap as that comes to."

" A good lad ! " cried the father, breathing on his cold
hands, and feebly chafing them against each other. " A
prudent lad ! He never delivered himself up to the vanities
of dress. No, no ! "

" I don't know but I would though, mind you, if I could
do it for nothing," said his son, as he resumed the paper.

" Ah ! " chuckled the old man. " If, indeed ! Lut it's
very cold."

" Let the fire be ! " cried Mr. Jonas, stopping his honored

30| MARTIN CHUZZLEV/IT.

parent's hand in the use of the poker. " Do you mean to
come to want in your old age, that you take to wasting now ? "

" There's not time for that, Jonas," said the old man.

" Not time for what t " bawled his heir.

" For me to come to want. 1 wish there was ! "

" You always were as selfish an old blade as need be,"
said Jonas, in a voice too low for him to hear, and looking at
him with an angry frown. " You act up to your character. You
wouldn't mind coming to want, wouldn't you ! I dare say
you wouldn't. And your own flesh and blood might come to
want too, might they, for anything you cared? Oh you
precious old flint ! "

After this dutiful address he took his tea-cup in his hand :
for that meal was in progress, and the father and son and
Chuffey were partakers of it. Then, looking steadfastly at
his father, and stopping now and then to carry a spoonful of
tea to his lips, he proceeded in the same tone, thus :

" Want, indeed ! You're a nice old man to be talking of
want at this time of day. Beginning to talk of want, are you ?
Well, I declare ! There isn't time .? No, I should hope not.
But you'd live to be a couple of hundred if you could ; and
after all be discontented, /know you ! "

The old man sighed, and still sat cowering before the fire.
Mr. Jonas shook his Britannia-metal teaspoon at him, and
taking a loftier 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 interest-
ing to yourself and everybody else that watches the specu-
lation. But no, that wouldn't •a\x\lyou. 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 1 was you, and glad to hide my head in the 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 Chuffey, 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 •

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 305

" He is your own son, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Your own son,
sir ! "

Old Chuffey little suspected what depth of application these
words had, or that, in the bitter satire which they bore, they
might have sunk into 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 the 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, Chuffey," said the old man, with a
strange look of discomposure.

" Precious old," assented Jonas.

"No, no, no," said Chuff e}'. " No, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Not
old at all, sir."'

'• Oh ! He's worse than ever, you know ! " cried Jonas,
quite disgusted. " Upon my soul, father, he's getting too bad.
Hold your tongue, will you .'' "

" He says you're wrong! " cried Anthony to the old clerk.

" Tut, tut ! " was Chuffey's answer. " 1 know better. I
say he's wrong. I say he's wrong. He's a boy. That's what
he is. So are you, Mr. Chuzzlewit — a kind of boy. Ha ! ha !
ha! 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 ! "

With which extraordinary speech — for in the case of
Chuffey this was a burst of eloquence without a parallel — the
poor old shadow drew through his palsied arm his master's
hand, and held it there, with his own folded upon it, as if he
would defend him.

" I grow deafer every day. Chuff," said Anthony, with as
much softness of manner, or, to describe it more correctly,
with as little hardness as he was capable of expressing.

" No, no," cried Chuffey. " No you don't. What if you
did ? I've been deaf this twenty year."

"I grow blinder, too," said the old man, shaking his head.

" That's a good sign ! " cried Chuffey. " Ha ! ha ! The
best sign in the world ! You saw too well before."

He patted Anthony upon the hand as one might comfort
a child, and drawing the old man's arm still further through
his own, shook his trembling fingers towards the spot where
Jonas sat, as though he would wave him off. But, Anthony re-
maining quite still and silent, he relaxed his hold by slow de-
grees and lapsed into his usual niche in the corner, merely put-
ting forth his hand at intervals and touching his old employer

20

3o6

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,

gently on the coat, as with the design of assuring himself 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 though he
would, in vulgar parlance, " punch his head." •

" They've been carrying on this game," thought Jonas in
a brown study, " for the last two or three weeks. I never saw
my father take so much notice of him as he has in that time.
What ! You're legacy hunting are you, Mister Chuff.? Eh t "

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. When he had scowled at him
to his heart's content, 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 before the fire.

" All as right as ever," said Jonas, propping the lid of the
desk open with his forehead, and unfolding a paper. " Here's
the will, Mister Chuff. Thirty pound a year for your main-
tenance, 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 was startling, certainly. A face on the other side of
the glass partition looking curiously in, and not at him but 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 eyes of Mr.
Pecksniff.

Suffering the lid of the desk to fall with a loud noise, but
not forgetting even then to lock it, Jonas, 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 ? "

" Matter ! " cried the voice of Mr. Pecksniff, as Pecksniff
in the flesh smiled amiably upon him. " The matter, Mr.
Jonas ! "

" What are you prying and peering about here for? " said
Jonas, angrily. " What do you mean by coming up to town in

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

3^7

this way, and taking one unawares ? It's precious odd a man
can't read the — the newspaper — in his own office without be-
ing startled out of his wits by people coming in without notice.
Why didn't you knock at the door ? "

" So I did, Mr. Jonas," answered Pecksniff, "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 hnd out
what part of 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 Mr. Pecksniff, shaking the
forefinger of jx'is right hand with an air of cheerful banter.
" Or was it politics ? Or was it the price of stock .-" The
main chance, Mr. Jonas, the main chance, I suspect."

" Vou ain't far fro)n the truth," answered Jonas, recover-
ing 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 mile 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 Jonas with im-
patience, " what have you come up for ? "

" A little matter of business," said Mr. Pecksniff, " which
has arisen quite unexpectedly."

"Oh!" cried Jonas, "istiiat all? Well. Here's father
in the next room. Hallo father, here's Pecksniff! He gets
more addle-pated every day he lives, I do believe," muttered
Jonas, shaking his honored parent roundly. " Don't I tell
you Pecksniff's here, stupid head .'' "

The combined effects of the shaking and this lovino" re-
monstrance soon awoke the old man, who gave Mr. Peck-
sniff 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 having called 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 ser\ed up
for his enlertaimnent ; and as Mr. Jonas had a business ap-
pointment in the next street, he stepped out to keep it, prom-
ising to return before Mr. Pecksniff could finish his repast.

2o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" And now, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff to Anthony,
*' now that we are alone, pray tell me what I can do for you.
I say alone, because I believe that our dear friend Mr. Chuf-
fey is, metaphysically speaking, a — shall I say a dummy ? "
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 afiflictions, and the greatest
admiration of those excellent qualities which do equal honor
to his head and to his heart, that he is what is playfully termed
a dummy. You were going to obser\-e, my dear sir — ? "

" I was not going to make any observation that I know
of," replied the old man.

"/was," said Mr. Pecksniff, mildly.

" Oh ! you were ? What was it ? "

" That I never," said Mr. Pecksniff, previously rising to
see that the door was shut, and arranging his chair when he
came back, so that it could not be opened in the least without
his immediately becoming aware of the circumstance — " that
I never in my life was so astonished as by the receipt of your
letter yesterday. That you should do me the honor 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 gratified, which moved, which overcame me."

He was always a glib speaker, but he delivered this short
address very glibly, having been at some jjains 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 perfectly blank face. Nor did
he seem to have the least desire or impulse to pursue the con-
versation, though Mr. Pecksniff looked towards the 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
behavior 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 :

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

309

** Will you hold your tongue, sir, and let me speak ? "

Mr. Pecksniff deferred to him with a submissive bow ;
and said within himself, " I knew his hand was changed, and
that his writing staggered. I said so yesterday. Ahem !
Dear me ! "

"Jonas is sweet upon your daughter, Pecksniff," said the
old man, in his usual tone.

" We spoke of that, if 3-ou remember sir, at Mrs. Tod-
gers's," replied the courteous architect.

" You needn'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 be-
cause he felt" convinced that his perceptive faculties were
waxing dim ; but this quick resentment of his considerate be-
havior greatly disconcerted him, and, not knowing what tack
to shape his course upon, he made another 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. Pecksniff, seeing
that he waited for an answer. " A dear girl, Mr. Chuzzle-
wit, though I say it who should not."

" You know better," cried the old man, advancing his
weazen face at least a yard, and starting 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 one yourself. If \o\\x daughter was what you
would have me believe, she wouldn't do for Jonas. Being
what she is, I think she will. He might be deceived in a
wife. She might run riot, contract debts, and waste his sub-
stance. Now when I am dead — "

His face altered so horribly as he said the wortl, 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 tormented for getting that together,
which even while I suffer for its acquisition is fiung 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 is lost."

3 1 o MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT.

'* My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," said Pecksnifif, " these are
unwholesome fancies ; quite unnecessary, sir, quite uncalled
for, I am sure. The truth is, my dear sir, that you are not
well ! "

" 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 presence of mind enough to call up a
scrap of morality from the great storehouse within his own
breast. Therefore he stammered out that no doubt it was, in
fairness and decency, Mr. Chuffey's turn to expire ; and that
from all he had heard of Mr. Chuffey, and the little he had
the pleasure of knowing of that gentleman, personally, he felt
con\inced 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 Mr. Pecksniif, " 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 lead-
ing him on, and you'll leave him miles behind. Bah, you man
of oil, have I no eyes to see how you have angled with him
from the first ? "

" Now I wonder," thought Mr. Pecksniff, looking 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 his back to Mr. Pecksniff, and his chin
sunk down upon his breast, was, in another minute, quite re-
gardless or forgetful of his presence.

Uncouth and unsatisfactory as this short interview had

MAR TIN CHUZZLE U 'IT. 3 1 1

been, it had furnished Mr. Pecksniff with a hint which, sup-
posing nothing further were imparted to him, repaid the jour-
ney up, and home again. For the good gentleman had never
(for want of an opportunity) dived into the depths of Mr.
Jonas's nature ; and any recipe for catching such a son-in-law
(much more, one written on a leaf out of his own father's book)
was worth the having. In order that he might lose no chance
of improving so fair an opportunity by allowing Anthony to
fall asleep before he had finished all he had to say, Mr. Peck-
sniff, in the disposal of the refreshments on the table, a work
to which he now applied himself in earnest, resorted to many
ingenious contrivances for attracting his attention : such as
coughing, sneezing, clattering the tea-cups, 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'll snore for six, 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 appear-
ance and manner," said Mr. Pecksniff.

" That's all you know about it," returned Jonas, seating
himself with a melancholy air. "lie 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 triiier ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, fondly musing.
" She is well, she is well. Roving from parlor to bed-room,
Mr. Jonas, like the bee ; skimming from post to pillar, like the
butterfly ; 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 ! "

" Is she so very gidd)^ then ? " asked Jonas.

" Well, well ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, witli great feeling ; " let

3 1 2 -7/// ^ TIN C MUZZLE WIT.

me not be hard upon my child. Beside her sister Cherry
she appears so. A strange noise that, Mr. Jonas ! "

" Something wrong in the dock, I suppose," said Jonas,
glancing towards it. " So the other one ain't your favorite,
ain't she ? "

The fond father was about to reply, and had already sum-
moned into his face a look of most intense sensibility, when
the sound he had already noticed was repeated.

" Upon my word, Mr. Jonas, that is a very extraordinary
clock," said Pecksniff.

It would have been, if it had made the noise which startled
them, but another kind of time-piece was fast running down,
and from that the sound proceeded. A scream from Chuffey,
rendered a hundred time more loud and formidable by his
silent habits, made the house ring from roof to cellar ; and,
looking round, they saw Anthony Chuzzlewit extended on
the floor, with the old clerk upon his knees beside him.

He had fallen from his chair in a fit, and lay there, battling
for each gasp of breath, with every shrivelled vein and sinew
starting in its place, as if it were bent on bearing witness to
his age, and sternly pleading with Nature against his recovery.
It was frightful to see how the principle of life, shut up within
his withered frame, fought like a strong devil, mad to be re-
leased, and rent its ancient prison-house. A young man in
the fulness of his vigor, struggling with so much strength of
desperation, would have been a dismal sight ; but an old, old,
shrunken body, endowed with preternatural might, and giving
the lie in e\ery motion of its ever}' limb and joint to its en-
feebled aspect, was a hideous spectacle indeed.

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 w'hen they got
him, quiet now, lout quite unconscious and exhausted, into
bed.

" Don't go," said Jonas, putting his ashy lips to Mr. Peck-
sniff's ear, and whispering across the bed. "It was a mercy
you \;ere present when he was taken ill. Some one might
have 3aid it was my doing.'

" Your doing ! '' cried" Mr. Pecksniff.

" I don't know but they might." he replied, wiping the
moisture from his white face. " People say such things.
How does he look now ? "

Mr. Pecksniff shook his head.

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

313

"I used to joke, you know," said Jonas ; "but I — I never
wished him dead.- Do you think he's very Jaad ? "

"The doctor said he was. You heard," was Mr. Peck-
sniff's answer.

" Ah ! but he might say that to charge us more, in case of
his getting well," said Jonas. " You musn't go away, Peck-
sniff. 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 down in a chair at the bedside, and there he re-,
mained, 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 \\'ith 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, and only reading how he looked, in Mr.
Pecksniff's eyes. fL\ the coarse upstart, who had ruled the
house so long 1 That craven cur, who was afraid to move,
and shook so, that his very shadow fluttered on the wall !

It was broad, bright stirring day when, leaving the old
clerk to watch liim, they went down to breakfast. People hur-
ried up and down the street ; windows and doors were opened ;
thieves and beggars took their usual posts ; workmen bestirred
themselves ; tradesmen set forth their shops ; bailiffs and
constables were on the watch ; all kinds of human creatures
strove in their several ways, as hard to live, as the one sick old
man who combated for every grain of sand in his fast-empty-
ing 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. over. 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 syllabic against me," he returned.
"I know how people will talk. Just as if he wasn't old, or I
had the secret of keeping him alive ! "

Mr. Pecksniff promised that he would remain, if circum-
stances should render it, in his esteemed friend's opinion,
desirable ; they were finishing their meal in silence, when

314

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

suddenly an apparition stood before them, so ghastly to the
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 his 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 a dead man's face.
What he would have said, God 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 see him stand-
ing there, gabbling in an unearthly tongue.

" He's better now," said Chuffey. " 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 door, 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.

Plunge him to the throat in golden pieces now, and his
heavy fingers shall not close on one !

CHAPTER XIX.

THE READER IS BROUGHT INTO COMMUNICATION WITH SOME
PROFESSIONAL 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 father'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 spare not ! "

Mr. Pecksniff had been to the undertaker, and was now upon

V

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

315

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 recom-
mended. Her name, as Mr. Pecksniff gathered from a scrap
of writing in his hand, was Gamp ; her residence in Kings-
gate 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 warehouse ; the renown of which establish-
ments 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 liad it, "Midwife," and lodging in the first-
floor front, was easily assailable at night by pebbles, walking-
sticks, and fragments of tobacco-pipe, all much more effica-
cious than the street-door knocker, which was so constructed
as to wake the street with ease, and even spread alarms of
fire in Holborn, without making the smallest impression on
the premises 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 cere-
mony 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 regularly engaged, but
had been called in at a crisis, in consequence of her great re-
pute, to assist another professional lady with her advice ; and
thus it happened that, all points 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. I'ecksnilT drove up in the
hackney cab, Mrs. Gamp's curtains w-ere 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 hopping his little
ballet of despair, and knocking his head against the roof ;
■while one unhappy goldfinch who lived outside a red villa
with his name on the door, drew the water for his own drink-
ing, and mutely appealed to some good man to drop a far-
things wortli of poison in it. Still, the door was shut. Mr.
Pecksniff tried the latch, and shook it, causing a cracked bell

3i6

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

inside to ring most mournfully ; but no one came. The bird-
fancier was an easy shaver also, and a fashionable 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 that might be, there, upon his own ground, he
was not ; nor was there any more distinct trace of him to as-
sist the imagination of an inquirer, than a professional print
or emblem of his calling (much favored in the trade), repre-
senting a hair-dresser of easy manners curling a lady of dis-
tinguished fashion, in the presence of a patent upright grand
pianoforte.

Noting these circumstances, Mr. Pecksniff, in the inno-
cence of his heart, applied himself to the knocker ; but at the
first double knock, ever}^ window in the street became alive
with female heads ; and before he could repeat the perform-
ance, whole troops of married ladies (some about to trouble
Mrs. Gamp themselves, ver)' shortly) came flocking round the
steps, all crying out with one accord, and with uncommon in-
terest, " 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 ! "

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 sav, " I'm coming."

" He's as pale as a muffin," said one lady, ni allusion to
Mr. Pecksnifi".

" So he ought to be, if he's the feelings of a man," ob-
served another.

A' third lady (with her arms folded) said she wished he
had chosen any other 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. Gamp
upon an errand touching — not the close of life, but the other
end. Mrs. Gamp herself was under the same impression, for
throwing open tlie window, she cried behind the curtains, as
she hastily attired herself :

" Is it Mrs. Perkins ? "

" No ! " returned Mr. Pecksniff, sharply. ' Nothing of
the sort."

" What, Mr. Whilks ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " Don't say it's

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

317

you, Mr. Whilks, and that poor creetur Mrs. Whilks with not
even a pincushion ready. Don't say it's you, Mr. Whilks ! "

" It isn't Mr. Whilks," said Pecksniff. " I don't know the
man. Nothing of the kind. A gentleman is dead ; and some
person being wanted in the house, you have been recommended
by Mr. Mould the undertaker."

As she was by this time in a condition to appear, 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.
Pecksniff's mission was of so unimportant a kind ; and the
'aly with her arms folded rated him in good round terms,
signifying that she would be glad to know what he meant by
terrifying delicate females "with his corpses ;" and giving it
as her opinion that he was quite ugly enough to know better.
The other ladies were 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 sav-
agely. So, when Mrs. Gamp appeared, the unoffending gentle-
man was glad to hustle her with very little ceremony into the
cabriolet, and drive off, overwhelmed with popular execration.

Mrs. Gamp had a large bundle with her, a pair of ])attens,
and a species of gig umbrella ; the latter article in color like
a faded leaf, except where a circular patch of a lively blue had
been dexterously let in at the top. She was much flurried by
the haste she had made, and labored under the most erro-
neous views of cabriolets, which she appeared to confound with
mail-coaches or stage-wagons, inasmuch as she was con-
stantly endeavoring for the first half mile to force her luggage
through the little front window, and clamoring to the dri\cr
to " put it in the boot."' When she was disabused of this
idea, her whole being resolved itself intf) an absorbing anxiety
about her pattens, with which she played innumerable 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 his name. " Put 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 it. Having very

3 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

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 correspond. In these dilapidated articles of
dress she had, on principle, arrayed herself, time out of mind,
on such occasions as the present ; for this at once expressed
a decent amount of veneration for the deceased, and invited
the next of kin to present her with a fresher suit of weeds, an
appeal so frequently successful, that the very fetch and ghost
of Mrs. Gamp, bonnet and all, might be seen hanging up, any
hour in the day, in at least a dozen of the second-hand clothes
shops about Holborn. The face of Mrs. Gamp — the nose in
particular — was somewhat red and swollen, and it was difficult
to enjoy her society without becoming conscious of a smell "of
spirits. Like most persons who have attained to great emi-
nence in their profession, she took to hers very kindly ; inso-
much, that setting aside her natural predilections as a woman,
she went to a lying-in or a laying-out with equal zest and
relish.

" Ah ! " repeated Mrs. Gamp ; for it was always a safe
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 Kingsgate Street circles
had any truth in them, she had indeed borne up surprisingly ;
and had exerted such uncommon fortitude, as to dispose of
Mr. Gamp's remains for the benefit of science. But it should
be added, in fairness, that this had happened twenty years
before ; and that Mr. and Mrs. Gamp had long been separa-
ted, on the ground of incompatibility 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 nater, sir," returned 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
littk sip of liquor gives me (I never was able to do more than
taste it), I never could go through with what I sometimes has
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 chimley-piece, and don't ask me
to take none, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dis-

MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT.

319

poged, 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 eighteen 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 inwallable person.' ' Mrs. Harris,'
I says to her, 'don't name the charge, for if I could afford to
lay all my fellow-creeturs out for nothink, I would gladly do
it, sich is the love I bears 'em. But what I always says to
them as has the management of matters, Mrs. Harris ' " —
here she kept her eye on Mr. Pecksniff — " ' be they gents or
be they ladies, is, don't ask me whether I won't take none, or
whether I will, but leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and
let me put mydips 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 at-
tempt 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'll be very particular here, Mrs. Gamp. This is not
a common case, Mrs. Gamp. Let every thing 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 undertaker; "and
I think so, also." Mrs. Gamp curtseyed again. "This is one
of the most impressive cases, sir," he continued, addressing
Mr. Pecksniff, " that I have seen in the whole course of my
professional experience."

" Indeed, Mr. Mould ! " cried that gentleman.

" Such affectionate regret, sir, I never saw. There is no
limitation, there is positively no limitation " — 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 come very dear, Mr. Pecksniff ; not to mention their

320

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

drink. To provide silver-plated handles of the very best de-
scription, ornamented with angels' heads from the most expen-
sive dies. 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 my time, sir,"
retorted Mould, " and what is unfilial too. It is our lot. We
come into the knowledge of those secrets. But anything so
filial as this ; anything so honorable to human nature ; so
calculated to reconcile all of us to the world we live in ;
never yet cam:^ under my observation. It only proves, sir,
what was so forcibly observed by the lamented theatrical
poet — buried at Stratford — that there is good in everything.""

" It is very pleasant to hear you say so, Mr. Mould," ob-
served Pecksniff.

" You are very kind, sir. And what a man Mr. Chuzzle-
wit 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 worthy to
walk in the shoes of the departed Mr. Chuzzlewit. No, no,"
cried Mould, with bitter 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 distinguished himself, was going away w-ith
a brisk smile, when he fortunately remembered the occasion.
Quickly becoming 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 the former, having been shown to the chamber in which
all that remained of Anthony Chuzzlewit lay covered up, with
but one loving heart, and that a halting one, to mourn it, left
the latter free to enter the darkened room below^, and rejoin
Mr. Jonas, from whom he had now been absent nearly two
hours.

He found that example to bereaved sons and pattern in

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

321

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-stick, were
removed from their accustomed places, and put out of sight ;
the wdndow-blinds, as yellow as November fogs, were drawn
down close ; Jonas himself was so subdued, that he could
scarcely be heard to speak, and only seen to w-alk across the
room.

" Pecksniff," he said, in a whisper, " you shall have the
regulation of it all, mind ! You shall be able to tell anybody
who talks about it that everything was correctly and freely
done. There isn't any one you'd like to ask to the funeral,
is there .-' "

" No, Mr. J.onas, 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 reflection.
" I am not the less obliged to you on that account, Mr.
Jonas, for your liberal hospitality ; but there really is no one."

'' Very well," said Jonas ; '" then you, and I, and Chuffey,
and the doctor, will be just a coachful. We'll have the doctor,
Pecksniff, because he knows what was the matter with him,
and that it couldn't be helped."

" Where is our dear friend, Mr. Chuffev .-' " asked Peck
sniff, looking round the chamber, and winking both his eyes
at once. For he was overcome by his feelings.

But here he was interrupted by Mr'^. Ga iip, who, divested
of her bonnet and shawl, came sidling and bridling into the
room ; and with some sharpness, demanded a conference out-
side the door with Mr. Pecksniff.

" You may say whatever you wish to say here, Mrs. Gamp,"
said that gentleman, shaking his head with a melancholy ex-
pression.

" It is not much as 1 have to say, when people is a mourn-
ing 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 considered. 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,"

21

322

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

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 consequently
cannot suffer spies to be set over me."

Before it was possible that an answer could be returned,
Mrs. Gamp, growing redder in the face, went on to say :

" It is not a easy matter, gentlemen, to live when you are
left a widder woman ; particular when your feelings works
upon you to that extent that you often find yourself a going
out, on terms which is a certain loss, and never can repay.
But, in whatever way you earns your bread, you may have
rules and regulations of your own, which cannot be broke
through. Some people," said Mrs. Gamp, again entrenching
herself behind her strong point, as if it were not assailable by
human ingenuity, " may be Rooshans, and others may be
I'rooshans ; 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, turn-
ing to Jonas, " Mr. Chuffey is troublesome to her. Shall I
fetch him down ? "

" Do," said 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 rather you went, if you don't mind."

Mr. Pecksniff promptly departed, followed by Mrs. Gamp,
who, seeing that he took a bottle and glass from the cupboard,
and carried it in his hand, was much softened.

" I am sure," she said, " that if it wasn't for his own hap-
piness, I should no more mind his being there, poor dear,
than if he was a fiv. But them as isn't used to these thing's,
thinks so much of 'em afterwards, that it's a kindness to 'em
not to let 'em have their wish. And even," said Mrs. Gamp,
probably in reference to some flowers of speech she had
already strewn on Mr. Chuffey, "even if one calls 'em names,
it's only done to rouse 'em."

Whatever epithets she had bestowed on the old clerk, they
had not roused him. He sat beside the bed, in the chair he
had occupied all the previous night, with his hands folded
before him, and his head bowed down ; and neither looked
up, on their entrance, nor gave any sign of consciousness,
until Mr. I'ecksniff took him by the arm, w-hen he meekly
rose.

"Three score and ten," said Chuffey, "ought and carry
seven. Some men are so strong that they live to four score

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Z'2Z

— four times ought's an ought, four times two's an eight —
eightv. Oh ! why — why — why — didn't he live to four times
ought's an ought, and four times two's an eight, eighty ? "

"Ah! what a wale of grief! " cried Mrs. Gamp, possess-
ing herself of the bottle and glass.

'' Why did he die before his poor old crazy servant ! " said
Chuffey, clasping his hands and looking up in anguish. " Take
him from me, and what remains .'' "

" Mr. Jonas," returned Pecksniff, " Mr. Jonas, mv good
friend."

"1 loved him," cried the old man, weeping. "He was
good to me. We learnt Tare and Tret together, at school. I
took him down once, six boys, in the arithmetic class. God
forgive me ! Had 1 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. Til sum up
mv forty — How many times 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 sul:»mitted 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 succeeded by a second, and by a
third, and then her eyes — either in the sadness of her reflec-
tions upon life 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 zxn. For a whole
week they all three sat about the hearth and never stirred
abroad. Mr. Pecksniff would have walked out in the evening
time, but Mr. 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 room, without
relief or occupation.

The weight of that which was stretched out, stiff and stark,
in the awful chamber above-stairs, so crushed and bore down
Jonas, that he bent beneath the load. During the whole long
seven days and nights, he was always oppressed and haunted

324 ^^ ^ ^-^-^ CHUZZLE WIT.

by a dreadful sense of its presence in the house. Did the
door move, he looked towards it with a livid face anc starting
eye, as if he fully believed that ghostly fingers clutched the
handle. Did the fire flicker in a draught of air, he glanced
over his shoulder, as almost dreading to behold some shrouded
figure fanning and flapping at it with its fearful dress. The
lightest noise disturbed him ; and once, in the night, at the
sound of a footstep over-head, he cried out that the dead man
was walking, tramp, tramp, tramp, about his coffin.

He lay at night upon a mattress on the floor of the sitting-
room ; his own chamber ha\ing been assigned to Mrs. Gamp ;
and Mr. Pecksniff was similarly accommodated. The howling
of a dog before the house, filled him with a terror he could
not disguise. He avoided 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 meals,
he abandoned to Mr. Pecksniff. That excellent gentleman,
deeming that the mourner wanted comfort, 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 melancholy season ; with
sweetbreads, stewed kidneys, oysters, and other such light
viands for supper every night ; o\'er which, and sundiy jorums
of hot punch, Mr. Pecksniff delivered such mora! reflections
and spiritual consolation as might have converted a Heathen
— 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 sad time. Mrs. Gamp proved to be very
choice in her eating, and repudiated hashed mutton with
scorn. In her drinking too, she was very punctual and par-
ticular, requiring a pint of mild porter at lunch, a pint at
dinner, half-a-pint as a species of stay or holdfast between
dinner and tea, and a pint of the celebrated staggering ale, or
Real Old Brighton Tipper, at supper ; besides the bottle on
the chimney-piece, and such casual invitations to refresh her-
self with wine as the good breeding of her employers might
prompt them to offer. In like manner, Mr. Mould's men
found it necessary to drown their grief, like a young kitten in
the morning of its existence ; for which reason they generally
fuddled themselves before they began to do anything, lest it

Jl/A A' TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

325

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 e\eiT one, except poor Chuffey,
who came within the shadow of Anthony Chuzzlewit's grave,
feasted like a Ghoule.

At length the day of the funeral, pious and truthful cere-
mony that it was, arrived. Mr. Mould, with a glass of
generous port between his eye and the light, leaned against
the desk in the little glass office with his gold watch in his
unoccupied 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 \vithout ; feathers waved, horses snorted, 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 ? " exclaimed 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. Gamp. Why do people spend more money" —
here he filled his glass again — " upon a death, Mrs. Gamp,
than upon a birth ? Come, that's in your way ; you ought to
know. How do you account for that now .? "

" Perhaps it is because an undertaker's charges comes
dearer than a nurse's charges, sir." said Mrs. Gamp, tittering,
and smoothing down her new black dress with her hands.

" Ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Mould. " You have been break-
fasting at somebody's expense this morning, Mrs. Gamp."
But seeing, by the aid of a little shaving-glass which hung
opposite, that he looked merry, he composed his features and
became sorrowful.

" Many's the time that I've not breakfasted at my own
expense along of your kind recommending, 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 Providence. No.
Mrs. Gamp ; I'll tell you why it is. It's because the laying
out of money with a well-conducted establishment, where the
thing is performed upon the very best scale, binds the broken
heart, and sheds balm upon the wounded spirit. Hearts want
binding, and spirits want balming when people die : not when
people are born. Look at this gentleman to-day ; look at him."

'26 ^V.-i A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

'' An open-handed gentleman ? " cried Mrs. Gamp.

" No, no,'' said the undertaker ; " not an open-handed
gentleman in general, by any means. There you mistake
him ; but an afflicted gentleman, an affectionate gentleman,
who knows what it is in the power of money to do, in giving
him relief, and in testifying his love and veneration for 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
vehicle ; it can give him velvet trappings ; it can give him
drivers in cloth cloaks and top-boots ; it can give him the
plumage of the ostrich, dyed black ; it can give him any
number of walking attendants, dressed in the first style of
funeral fashion, and carrying batons tipped with brass ; it can
give him a handsome tomb, it can give him a place in West-
minster Abbey itself, if he choose to invest it in such a
purchase. Oh ! do not let us say that gold is dross, when it
can buy such things as these, Mrs. Gamp."

" But what a blessing, sir," said Mrs. Gamp, " that there
are such as you, to sell or let 'em out on hire ? "

" Ay, Mrs. Gamp, you are right," rejoined the undertaker.
" We should be an honored calling. We do good by stealth,
and blush to have it mentioned in our little bills. How much
consolation may I, even I," cried Mr. Mould, " have diffused
among my fellow-creatures by means of my four long-tailed
prancers, never harnessed under ten pund ten ! "

Mrs. Gamp had begun to make a suitable reply, when she
was interrupted by the appearance of one of Mr. Mould's as-
sistants— his chief mourner in fact — an obese person, with his
waistcoat in closer connection with his legs than is quite re-
concilable with the established ideas of grace ; with that cast
of feature which is iiguratively called a bottle-nose ; and with
a face covered all over with pimples. He had been a tender
plant once upon a time, but from constant blowing in the fat
atmosphere of funerals, had run to seed.

" Well, Tacker," said Mr. Mould, " is all ready below .? "

"A beautiful show, sir," rejoined Tacker. "The horses
are prouder and fresher than ever I see 'em ; and toss their
heads, they do, as if they know'd how nmch their plumes cost.
One, two, three, four," said Mr. Tacker, heaping that number
of black cloaks upon his left arm.

" Is Tom there, with the cake and wine ? " asked Mr.
Mould.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 327

" Ready to come in at a moment's notice, sir, " said Tacker.

"Then," rejoined Mr. Mould, putting up his watch, and
glancing at himself in the little shaving glass, that he might
be sure his face had the right expression on it ; '" then, 1 think
we may proceed to business. Give me the paper of gloves,
Tacker. Ah what a man he was ! Ah Tacker, Tacker, what
a man he was I "

Mr. Tacker, who from his great experience in the perform-
ance of funerals, would have made an excellent pantomine
actor, winked at Mrs. Gamp without at all disturbing the grav-
ity of his countenance, and followed his master into the next
room.

It was a great point with Mr. Mould, and a part of his pro-
fessional tact, }iot to seem to know the doctor ; though in re-
ality they were near neighbors, and very often, as in the pres-
ent instance, worked together. So he advanced to fit on his
black kid gloves as if he had never seen him in all his life ;
while the doctor, on his part, looked as distant and uncon-
scious as if he had heard and read of undertakers, and had
passetl their shops, but had never before been brought into
communication with one.

" Gloves, eh ? " said the doctor, " Mr. Pecksniff, after you."

" J couldn't think of it," returned Mr. Pecksniff.

"You are very good," said the doctor, taking a pair.
" Well, sir, as I was saying, I was called up to attend that case
at about half-past one o'clock. Cake and wine, eh ? Which
is port ? Thank you."

Mr. Pecksniff took some also.

" At about half-past one o'clock in the morning, sir," re-
sumed the doctor, " I was called up to attend that case. At
the first pull of the night-bell 1 turned out, threw up the win-
dow, and put out my head. Cloak, eh .'' Don't tie it too
tight. That'll do."

Mr. Pecksniff having been likewise inducted into a similar
garment, the doctor resumed.

" And put out my head. Hat, eh ? My good friend, that
is not mine. Mr. Pecksniff, 1 beg your pardon, but 1 think
we have unintentionally made an exchange. Thank you.
Well, sir, I was going to tell you " —

" We are quite ready," interrupted Mould in a low voice.

" Ready, eh > " said the doctor. " Very good. Mr. Peck-
sniff, I'll take an opportunity of relating the rest in the coach.
It's rather curious. Ready, eh ? No rain, I hope } "

3»S MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"Quite fair, sir," returned Mould.

" 1 was afraid tlie ground would have been wet," said the
doctor, " for my glass fell yesterday. We may congratulate
ourselves upon our good fortune." But seeing by this time
that Mr. Jonas and Chuff ey were going out at the door, he
put a white pocket-handkerchief to his face as if a violent
burst of grief had suddenly come upon him, and walked down
side by side with Mr. Pecksniff.

Mr, Mould and his men had not exaggerated the grandeur
of the arrangements. They were splendid. The four hearse-
horses, especially, reared and pranced, and showed their high-
est action, as if they knew a man was dead, and triumphed" in
it. " They break us, drive us, ride us ; ill-treat, abuse, and
maim us for their pleasure — But they die ; Hurrah, they die ! "

So through the narrow streets and winding city ways,
went Anthony Chuzzlewit's funeral : Mr. Jonas glancing stealth-
ily out of the coach-window now and then, to observe its
effect upon the crowd ; Mr. Mould as he walked along listen-
ing with a sober pride to the exclamations of the bystanders ;
the doctor whispering his story to Mr. Pecksniif, without ap-
pearing to come any nearer to the end of it ; and poor old
Chuffey sobbing unregarded in a corner. But he had greatly
scandalized Mr. Mould at an early stage of the ceremony by
carrying his handkerchief in his hat in a perfectly informal
manner, and wiping his eyes with his knuckles. And as Mr.
Mould himself had said already, his behavior was indecent,
and quite unworthy of such an occasion ; and he never ought
to have been there

There he was, however, and in the churchyard there he was,
also, conducting himself in a no less unbecoming manner, and
leaning for support on Tacker, who plainly told him that he
was fit for nothing better than a walking funeral. But Chuf-
fey, Heaven help him ! heard no sound but the echoes, lin-
gering 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'sa clayey soil, Mr. Chuffey. You musn't, really."

" If it had been the commonest thing we do, and Mr. Chuf-
fey had been a Bearer, gentlemen," said Mould, casting an
imploring glance upon them, as he helped to raise him, " he
couldn't have gone on worse than this."

A/ A A' T/A' CHUZZLE WIT. 329

"Be a man, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff.

" Be a gentleman, Mr. ChuiTey," said Mould.

" Upon my word, my good friend," murmured the doctor,
in a tone of stately reproof, as he stepped up to the old man's
side, " this is worse than weakness. This is bad, selfish, very
wrong, Mr. Chuffey. You should take examples from others,
my good sir. You forget that you were not connected by ties
of blood with our deceased friend ; and that he had a very
near and very dear relation, Mr. Chuffey."

" Ay, his own son ! " cried the old man, clasping his hands
with remarkable passion. " His own, own, only son ! "

" He's not right in his head, you know," said Jonas, turning
pale. " You're not to mind anything he says. I shouldn't
wonder if he w^is to talk some precious nonsense. But don't
you mind him, any of you. I don't. My father left him to
my charge ; and whatever he says or does, that's enough, /'ll
take care of him."

A hum of admiration rose from the mourners (including
Mr. Mould and his merry men) at this new instance of mag-
nanimity and kind-feeling on the part of Jonas. But Chuffey
put it to the test no farther. He said not a word more, and
being left to himself for a little while, crept back again to the
■coach.

It has been said that Mr. Jonas turned pale when the be-
havior of the old clerk attracted general attention ; his dis-
composure, however, was but momentary, and he soon re-
covered. But these were not the only changes he had
exhibited that day. The curious eyes of Mr. Pecksniff had ob-
served that as soon as they left the house upon their mourn-
ful errand, he began to mend ; that as the ceremonies pro-
ceeded he gradually, by little and little, recovered his old con-
dition, his old looks, his old liearing, his old agreeable char-
acteristics of speech and manner, and became, in all respects,
his old pleasant self. And now that they were seated in the
coach on their return home ; and more when they got there,
and found the windows open, the light and air admitted, and all
traces of the late event removed ; he felt so well convinced
that Jonas was again the Jonas he had known a week ago,
and not the Jonas of the intervening time, that he \'oluntarily
gave up his recently-acquired power without one faint attempt
to exercise it, and at once fell back into his former position
of mild and deferential guest.

Mrs. Gamp went home to the bird-fancier's, and was

330 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

knocked up asjain that very night for a birth of twins ; Mr.
Mould dined gayly in the bosom of his family, and passed the
evening facetiously at his club ; the hearse, after standing
for a long time at the door of a roistering public-house, re-
paired to its stables with the feathers inside and twelve red-
nosed undertakers on the roof, each holding on by a dingy
peg, to which, in times of state, a waving plume was fitted ;
the various trappings of sorrow were carefully laid by in
presses for the next hirer ; the fiery steeds were quenched
and quiet in their stalls ; the doctor got merry with' wine at
a wedding-dinner, and forgot the middle of the stor)'- which
had no end to it ; the pageant of a few short hours ago was
written nowhere half so legibly as in the undertaker's books.

Not in the churchyard } Not even there. The gates were
closed ; the night was dark and wet ; the rain fell silently,
among the stagnant weeds and nettles. One new mound was
there which had not been there last night. Time, burrowing
like a mole below the ground, had marked his track by throw-
ing up another heap of earth. And that was all.

CHAPTER XX.

IS A CHAPTER OF I,OVE.

" Pecksniff," said Jonas, taking off his hat, to see that
the black crape band was all right, and finding that it was,
putting it on again, complacently, "what do you mean to
give your daughters when they marry 1 "

" My dear Mr. Jonas," cried the affectionate parent, with
an ingenuous smile, " what a very singular inquiry ! "

" Now don't you mind whether it's a singular inquiry or a
plural one," retorted Jonas, eyeing Mr. Pecksniff with no great
•favor, " but answer it, or let it alone. One or the other."

" Hum ! The question, my dear friend," said Mr. Peck-
sniff, laying his hand tenderly upon his kinsman's knee, '• is
involved with many considerations. What would I grve
Ihem ? Eh ? "

" Ah ! what would you give 'em ? " repeated Jonas.

" Why, that," said Mr. Pecksniff, " would naturally depend

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 33 1

in a great measure upon the kind of husbands they might
choose, my dear young friend."

Mr. Jonas was evidently disconcerted, and at a loss how
to proceed. It was a good answer. It seemed a deep one,
but such is the wisdom of simplicity !

" My standard for the merits I would require in a son-in-
law," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a short silence, " is a high one.
Forgive me, my dear Mr. Jonas," he added, greatly moved, '" if
I say that you have spoiled me, and made it a fanciful one ; an
imaginative one ; a prismatically tinged one, if I may be per-
mitted to call it so."

" What do you mean by that ? " growled Jonas, looking
at him with increabcd disfavor.

" Indeed, my dear friend," said Mr. I'ecksniff, *' you may
well inquire. I'he heart is not always a royal mint, with pat-
ent machinery, to work its metal into current coin. Some-
times it throws it out in strange forms, not easily recognized
as coin at all. But it is sterling gold. It has at least that
merit. It is sterling gold."

"Is it.'' " grumbled Jonas, with a doubtful shake of the
head.

" Ay ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, wanning with his subject. " it
is. To be plain with you, Mr. Jonas, if I could find two such
sons-in-law as you will one day make to some deserving man,
capable of appreciating a nature such as yours, I would — for-
getful of myself — bestow upon my daughters, portions reach-
ing to the very utmost limit of my means."

This was strong language, and it was earnestly delivered.
But who can wonder that such a man as Mr. Pecksniff, after
all he had seen and heard of Mr. Jonas, should be strong and
earnest upon such a theme ; a theme that touched even the
worldly lips of undertakers with the honey of eloquence !

Mr. Jonas was silent, and looked thoughtfully at the land-
scape. For they were seated on the outside of the coach, at
the back, and were travelling down into the country. He
accompanied Mr. Pecksniff home for a few days' change of
air and scene after his recent trials.

"Well," he said at last, with captivating bluntness, " sup-
pose you got one such son-in-law as me, what then .-' "

Mr. Pecksniff regarded him at lirst with inexpressible sur-
prise ; then gradually breaking into a sort of dejected vivacity,
said :

" Then well I know whose husband he would be ! "

332 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Whose ? " asked Jonas, dryly.

" My eldest girl's, Mr. Jonas," replied Pecksniff, with
moistening eyes. " My dear Cherry's : my staff, my scrip, my
treasure, Mr. Jonas. A hard struggle, but it is in the nature
of things ! I must one day part with her to a husband. I
know it, my dear friend. 1 am prepared for it."

" Ecod ! you've been prepared for that a pretty long time,
I should think," said Jonas.

Many have sought to bear her from me," said Mr. Peck-
sniff. "All have failed. ' I never will give my hand, papa ' —
those were her words — ' unless my heart is won.' She has
not been quite so happy as she used to be, of late. I don't
know why."

Again Mr. Jonas looked at the landscape ; then at the
coachman ; then at the luggage on the roof ; finally at Mr.
Pecksniff.

" I suppose you'll have to part with the other one, some of
these days ? " he observed, as he caught that gentleman's eye.

"I*robably," said the parent. "Years will tame down the
wildness of my foolish bird, and then it will be caged. But
Cherry, Mr. Jonas, Cherry."

" Oh, ah ! " interrupted Jonas. " Years have made her
all right enough. Nobody doubts that. But you haven't an-
swered what I asked you. Of course, you're not obliged to
do it, you know, if you don't like. You're the best judge."

There was a warning sulkiness in the manner of this speech,
which admonished Mr. Pecksniff that his dear friend was not
to be trifled with or fenced off, and that he must either return
a straightforward reply to his question, or plainly give him to
understand that he declined to enlighten him upon the subject
to which it referred. Mindful in this dilemma of the caution
Old Anthony had given him almost with his latest breath, he
resolved to speak to the point, and so told Mr. Jonas (enlarg-
ing upon the communication as a proof of his great attach-
ment and confidence), that in the case he had put ; to wit, in
the event of such a man as he proposing for his daughter's
hand, he would endow her with a fortune of four thousand
pounds.

" 1 should sadly pinch and cramp myself to do so, '' was
his fatherly remark; "but that would be my duty, and my
conscience would reward me. For myself, my conscience is
my bank. I have a trifle invested there, a mere trifle, Mr.
Jonas ; but I prize it as a store of value, I assure you."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ZZ7>

The good man's enemies would have divided upon this
question into two parties. One would have asserted without
scruole that if Mr. Pecksniff's conscience were his bank, and
he kept a running account there, he must have overdrawn it
beyond all mortal means of computation. The other would
have contended that it was a mere fictitious fonii ; a perfectly
blank book ; or one in which entries were only made with a
peculiar kind of invisible ink to become legible at some indefi-
nite time ; and that he never troubled it at all.

"It would sadly pinch and cramp me, my dear friend,"
repeated Mr. Pecksniff, "but I^rovidence, perhaps 1 may be
permitted to say a special Providence, has blessed my endeav-
ors, and I could guarantee to make the sacrifice."

A question -of philosophy arises here, whether Mr. Peck-
sniff had or had not good reason to say, that he was specially
patronized and encouraged in his undertakings. All his life
long he had been walking up and down the narrow ways and
by-places, with a hook in one hand and a crook in the- other,
scraping all sorts of valuable odds and ends into his pouch.
Now, there being a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow,
it follows (so Mr. Pecksniff would have reasoned), that there
must also be a special Providence in the alighting of the
stone, or stick, or other substance which is aimed at the
sparrow. And Mr. Pecksniff's hook, or crook, having invari-
ably knocked the sparrow on the head and brought him down,
that gentleman may have been led to consider himself as
specially licensed to bag sparrows, and as being specially
seized and possessed of all the birds he had got together.
That many undertakings, national as well as individual — but
especially the former — are held to be specially brought to a
glorious and successful issue, which never could be so regard-
ed on any other process of reasoning, must be clear to all
men. Therefore the precedents would seem to show that Mr.
Pecksniff had good argument for what he said, and might be
permitted to say it, and did not say it presumptuously, vainly,
or arrogantly, but in a spirit of high faith and great wisdom
meriting all praise.*

Mr. Jones, not being much accustomed to perplex his mind
vvith theories of this nature, expressed no opinion on the sub-
ject. Nor did he receive his companion's announcement with
one solitary syllable, good, bad, or indifferent. He preserved

* The most crediilniis reader will scarcely believe that Mr. Pecksniff's reasouiug was
ence set upon as the Author's ! !

334 MARTIX CHUZZLE WIT.

this taciturnity for a quarter of an hour at least, and during
the whole of that time appeared to be steadily engaged in
subjecting some given amount to the operation of every
known rule in figures ; adding to it, taking from it, multiply-
ing it, reducing it by long and short division ; working it by
the rule-of-three direct and inversed ; exchange or barter ;
practice ; simple interest ; compound interest ; and other
means of arithmetical calculation. The result of these labors
appeared to be satisfactory, for when he did break silence, it
was as one w'ho had arrived at some specific result, and
freed himself from a state of distressing uncertainty.

" Come, old Pecksniff ! " Such was his jocose address,
as he slapped that gentleman on the back, at the end of the
stage ; " let's have something ! "

" With all my heart," said Mr. Pecksniff.

" Let's treat the driver," cried Jonas.

" If you think it won't hurt the man, or render him discon-
tented with his station ; certainly," faltered Mr. Pecksniff.

Jonas only laughed at this, and getting down from the
coach-top with great alacrit\% cut a cumbersome kind of caper
in the road. After which, he went into the public-house, and
there ordered spirituous drink to such an extent, that Mr.
Pecksniff had some doubts of his perfect sanity, until Jonas
set them quite at rest by saying, when the coach could wait
no longer :

" I've been standing treat for a whole week and more, and
letting you have all the delicacies of the season. You shall
pay for this, Pecksniff." It was not a joke either, as Mr.
Pecksniff at first supposed ; for he went off to the coach
without further ceremony, and left his respected victim to
setde the bill.

But Mr. Pecksniff was a man of meek endurance, and Mr.
Jonas was his friend. Moreover, his regard for that gentle-
man was founded, as we know, on pure esteem, and a knowl-
edge of the excellence of his character. He came out from
the tavern with a smiling face, and even went so far as to
repeat the performance, on a less expensive scale, at the next
ale-house. There was a certain wildness in the spirits of Mr.
Jonas (not usually a part of his character) which was far
from being subdued by these means, and, for the rest of
the journey, he was so very buoyant — it may be said, boister-
ous— that Mr. Pecksniff had some difficulty in keeping pace
with him.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

335

They were not expected. Oh clear, no ! Mr. Pecksniff
had proposed in London to give the girls a surprise, and had
said he wouldn't write a word to prepare them on any account,
in order that he and Mr. Jonas might take them unawares,
and just see what they were doing, when they thought their
dear papa was miles and miles away. As a consequence of
this playful device, there was nobody to meet tliem at the
finger-post, but that was of small consequence, for they had
come down by the day coach, and Mr. Pecksniff had only a
carpet bag, while Mr. Jonas had only a portmanteau. They
took the portmanteau between them, put the bag upon it,
and walked off up the lane without delay ; Mr. Pecksniff
already going on tiptoe as if, without this precaution, his fond
children, being then at a distance of a couple of miles or so,
would have some filial sense of his approach.

It was a lovely evening, in the spring-time of the year;
and in the soft stillness of the twilight, all nature was \-ery
calm and beautiful. The day had been fine and warm , but
at the coming on of night, the air grew cool, and in the mel-
lowing distance, smoke was rising gently from the cottage
chimneys. There were a thousand pleasant scents diffused
around, from young leaves and fresh buds ; the cuckoo had
been singing all day long, and was but just now hushed ; the
smell of earth newly-upturned, first breath of hope to the first
laborer, after his garden withered, was fragrant in the evening
breeze. It was a time when most men cherish good resolves,
and sorrow for the wasted past ; when most men, looking on
the shadows, as they gather, think of that evening which must
close on all, and that to-morrow which has none beyond.

" Precious dull," said Mr. Jonas, looking about. " It's
enough to make a man go melancholy mad."

" We shall have lights and a fire soon," observed Mr. Peck-
sniff.

" We shall need 'em by the time we get there," said Jonas.
" Why the devil don't you talk ? \Miat are you thinking
of > "

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Jonas," said Pecksniff with
great solemnity, " my mind was running at that moment on
our late dear friend, 3^our departed father."

Mr. Jonas immediately let ins burden fall, and said,
t.hreak-ning liim with his hand :

"Drop that, Pecksniff!"

Mr. Pecksniff not exactly knowing whether allusion was

336

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

made to the subject or the portmanteau, stared at his friend in
unaffected surprise.

" Drop it, I say ! " cried Jonas, fiercely. " Do you hear ?
Drop it, now and forever. You liad better, I give you no-
tice ! "

" It was quite a mistake," urged Mr. Pecksniff, very much
dismayed ; " though I admit it was foolish. 1 might have
known it was a tender string."

" Don't talk to me about tender strings," said Jonas,
wiping his forehead with the cuff of his coat. " I'm not going
to be crowed over by you, because I don't like dead com-
pany."

Mr. Pecksniff had got out the words "Crowed over, Mr.
Jonas ! " when that young man, with a dark expression in his
countenance, cut him short once more :

" Mind ! " he said, " I won't have it. I advise you not to
revive the subject, neither to me nor anybody else. You can
take a hint, if you choose, as well as another man. There's
enough said about it. Come along ! "

Taking up his part of the load again, when he had said these
words, he hurried on so fast that Mr. Pecksniff, at the other
end of the portmanteau, found himself dragged forward, in a
very inconvenient and ungraceful manner, to the great detri-
ment of what is called by fancy gentlemen " the bark " upon
his shins, which were most unmercifully bumped against the
hard leather and the iron buckles. In the course of a few
minutes, however, Mr. Jonas relaxed his speed, and suffered
his companion to come up with him, and to bring the port-
manteau into a tolerably straight position.

It was pretty clear that he regretted his late outbreak,
and that he mistrusted its effect on Mr. Pecksniff ; for as
often as that gentleman glanced towards Mr. Jonas, he found
Mr. Jonas glancing at him, which was a new source of em-
barrassment. It was but a short-lived one, though, for Mr.
Jonas soon began to whistle, whereupon Mr. Pecksniff, taking
his cue from his friend, began to hum a tune melodiously.

" Pretty nearly there, ain't we ? " said Jonas, when this
had lasted some time.

" Close, my dear friend," said Mr. Pecksniff.

" What '11 they be doing, do you suppose.? " asked Jonas.

" Impossible to say," cried Mr. Pecksniff'. " Giddy truants !
They may be away from home, perhaps. I was going to —
he ' he ! he ! — I was going to propose," said Mr. Pecksniff,

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. ■^■^-j

" that we should enter by the back way, and come upon them
like a clap of thunder, Mr. Jonas."

It might not have been easy to decide in respect of which
of their manifold properties, Jonas, Mr. Pecksniff, the carpet-
bag, and the portmanteau, could be likened to a clap of
thunder. But Mr. Jonas giving his assent to this proposal,
they stole round into the back yard, and softly advanced to-
wards the kitchen window through which the mingled light of
fire and candle shone upon the darkening night.

Truly Mr. Pecksniff is blessed in his children. In one of
them, at any rate. The prudent Cherry — staff and scrip, and
treasure of her doting father — there she sits, at a little table
white as driven snow, before the kitchen fire, making up
accounts! See. the neat maiden, as with pen in hand, and
calculating look addressed towards the ceiling, and bunch of
keys within a little basket at her side, she checks the house-
keeping expenditure ! From fiat-iron, dish-cover, and warming-
pan ; from pot and kettle, face of brass footman, and black-
leaded stove ; bright glances of approbation wink and glow
upon her. The very onions dangling from the beam, mantle
and shine like cherub's cheeks. Something of the infiuence
of those vegetables sinks into Mr. Pecksniff's nature. He
weeps.

it is but for a moment, and he hides it from the obser\a-
tion of his friend — very carefully — by a somewhat elaborate
use of his pocket-handkerchief, in fact ; for he would not have
his weakness known.

" Pleasant," he murmured, " pleasant to a father's feel-
ings ! My dear girl ! Shall we let her know we are here, Mr.
Jonas ? "

" VV'liy, I suppose you don't mean to spend the evening
in the stable or the coach-house," he returned.

" That, indeed, is not such hospitality as I would show
io you, my friend," cried Mr. Pecksniff, pressing his hand.
And then he took a long breath, and tapping at the window,
shouted with stentorian blandness :

" Boh ! "

Cherry dropped her pen and screamed. But innocence
is ever bold, or should be. As they opened the door, the
valiant girl exclaimed in a firm voice, and with a presence of
mind which even in that trying moment did not desert her,
'* Who are you ? What do you want ? Speak ! Or I will caLI
my Pa."

22

338 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mr. Pecksniff held out his arms. She knew him instantly,
and rushed into his fond embrace.

" It was thoughtless of us, Mr. Jonas, it was very thought-
less," said Pecksniff, smoothing his daughter's hair. " My
darling, do you see that I am not alone ! "

Not she. She had seen nothing but her father until now.
She saw Mr. Jonas now, though ; and blushed, and hung her
head down, as she gave him welcome.

But where was Merry? Mr. Pecksniff didn't ask the
question in reproach, but in a vein of mildness touched with
a gentle sorrow. She was up stairs, reading on the parlor
couch. Ah! Domestic details had no charms for //(?/'. " p]ut
call her down," said, Mr. Pecksniff, with a placid resignation.
" Call her down, my love."

She was called and came, all flushed and tumbled from
reposing on the sofa ; but none the worse for that. No, not
at all. Rather the better, if anything.

" Oh my goodness me ! " cried the arch girl, turning to
her cousin when she had kissed her father on both cheeks,
and in her frolicsome nature had bestowed a supernumerary
salute upon the tip of his nose, '•'■you here, fright ! Well, I'm
very thankful that you won't trouble t7ie much ! "

"What! you're as lively as ever, are you?" said Jonas.
" Oh ! You're a wicked one ! "

" There, go along ! " retorted Merr}% pushing him away.
" I'm sure I don't know Avhat I shall ever do, if I have to see
much of you. Go along, for gracious' sake ! "

Mr. Pecksniff striking in here, with a request that Mr.
Jonas would immediately walk up stairs, he so far complied
with the young lady's adjuration as to go at once. But though
he had the fair Cherry on his arm, he could not help looking
back at her sister, and exchanging some further dialogue of
the same bantering description, as they all four ascended to
the parlor \ where — for the young ladies happened, by good
fortune, to be a little later than usual that night — the tea-
board was at that moment being set out.

Mr. Pinch was not at home, so they had it all to them-
selves, and were very snug and talkative, Jonas sitting be-
tween the two sisters, and displaying his gallantry in that
engaging manner which was peculiar to him. It was a hard
thing, Mr. Pecksniff said, when tea was done, and cleared
away, to leave so pleasant a little party, but having some im-
portant papers to examine in his own apartment, he must beg

MA R TIN CIIL 'ZZL ElVIT.

339

them to excuse him for half an hour. With this apology he
withdrew, singing a careless strain as he went. He had not
been gone five minutes, when Merry, who had been sitting in
the window, apart from Jonas and her sister, burst into a half-
smothered laugh, and skipped towards the door.

" Hallo ! " cried Jonas. " Don't go."

" Oh, I dare say ! " rejoined Merry, looking back. " You're
very anxious I should stay, fright, ain't you .'' "

"Yes, I am," said Jonas. "Upon my word I am. I want
to speak to you." But as she left the room notwithstanding,
he ran out after her, and brought her back, after a short
struggle in the passage which scandalized Miss Cherry very
much.

" Upon my word, Merr}'," urged that young lady, " I won-
der at you ! There are bounds even to absurdity, my dear."

" Thank you, my sweet," said Merrj', pursing up her rosy
lips. " Much obliged to it for its advice. Oh ! do leave me
alone, you monster, do ! " This entreaty was wrung from her
by a new proceeding on the part of Mr. Jonas, who pulled her
down, all breathless as she was, into a seat beside him on the
sofa, having at the same time Miss Cherry upon the other side.

" Now," said Jonas, clasping the waist of each ; " I have
got both arms full, haven't I ? "

" One of them will be black and blue to-morrow, if you
don't let me go," cried the playful Merry.

" Ah ! I don't mind j'(7«r pinching," grinned Jonas, " a bit.''

" Pinch him for me. Cherry, pray," said Mercy. " I never
did hate anybody so much as 1 hate this creature, 1 declare ! ''

" No, no, don't say that," urged Jonas, " and don't
pinch either, because 1 want to be scMious. J say ! Cousin
Charity ! "

"Well! what .'' " she answered sharply.

" 1 want to have some sober talk," said Jonas : " I want
to prevent any mistakes, you know, and to put everything
upon a pleasant understanding. That's desirable and proper,
ain't it ? "

Neither of the sisters spoke a word. Mr. Jonas paused
and cleared his throat, which was very dry.

" She'll not believe what I am going to say, will she
cousin ?" said Jonas, timidly squeezing Miss Charity.

" Really, Mr. Jonas, I don't know, until I hear what it is.
It's quite impossible ! "

"Why, you see," said Jonas, "her way always being to

340

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

make game of people, I know she'll laugh, or pretend to ; 1
know that, beforehand. But you can tell her I'm in earnest,
cousin ; can't you ? You'll confess you know, won't you ?
You'll be honorable, I'm sure," he added persuasively.

No answer. His throat seemed to grow hotter and hot-
ter, and to be more and more difficult of control.

" You see, Cousin Charity," said Jonas, " nobody but you
can tell her what pains I took to get into her company when
you were both at the boarding-house in the city, because no-
body's so well aware of it, you know. Nobody else can tell
her how hard I tried to get to know you better, in order that
I might get to know her without 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'll tell her so, if
you haven't told her so already, and — and — I dare say you
ha\-e, because I'm sure you're honorable, 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 noth-
ing 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'll bear
honest witness now ; won't you ? We've been very good
friends from the first ; haven't we .■* And of course we shall
be quite friends in future, and so I don't mind speaking be-
fore you a bit. Cousin Mercy, you'\e heard what I've been
saying. She'll confirm it, every word ; she must. Will you
have me for \our husband ? 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 progress 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 the truth — more than
one sounding slap upon his outstretched face.

" Not till you say 'S'es. You haven't told me. Will you
have me for your husband t "

" No, I won't. I can't bear the sight of you. I have told
you so a hundred times. You are a fright. Besides, I always
thought you liked my sister best. We all thought so."

" But that wasn't my fault," said Jonas.

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 341

" Yes it was ; you know it was."

"Any trick is fair in love," said Jonas. " She may have
thou2;ht I Uked her best, luit you didn't."

'•^I did .? "

" No, you didn't. You never could have thought I liked
lier best, when you were by."

" There's no accounting for tastes,'-' said Merry ; " at
least I didn't mean to say that. I don"t know what i mean.
Let me go to her."

" Say ' Yes,' and then I will."

" If I ever brought myself to say so, it should only be,
that I might hate and tease 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 confused noise of
kissing and slapping ; and then the fair, but nuich dishev-
elled 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 impossible, or divined almost
by inspiration what the 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 right place, at precisely
the right time — which, under the special guardianship in
which he lived might very reasonably happen, it is quite cer-
tain 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 vehe-
ment ; he so calm, so self-possessed, so cool and full of peace,
that not a hair upon his head was stirred.

" Children ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, spreading out his hands
in wonder, but not before he had shut the door, and set his
back against it. " Girls ! Daughters ! What is this ? "

" The wretch ; the apostate ; the false, mean, odious vil-
lain ; has before my very face proposed to Mercy ! '' was his
eldest daughter's answer.

" Who has proposed to Mercy } " asked Mr. Pecksniff.

" ^£' has. That thing. Jonas, down stairs."

"Jonas proposed to Mercy? " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ay,
ay i Indeed.?"

" Have you nothing else to say ? " cried Charity. " Am I
to be driven mad, papa .-* He has proposed to Mercy, not to
me."

342 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Oh, fie ! For shame ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, grav.ely.
" Oh, for shame ! Can the triumph of a sister move )'ou to
this 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, what a pas-
sion you are ! "

Uttering this apostrophe in a tone full of grief and lamen-
tation, Mr. Pecksniff left the room (taking care to shut the
door behind him), and walked down stairs into the parlor.
There he found his intended son-in-law, whom he seized by
botli hands.

" Jonas ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Jonas ! the dearest wish
of my heart is now fulfilled ! "

" Very well ; I'm glad to hear it," said Jonas. "That'll
do. I say ! As it ain't the one you're so fond of, you must
come down with another thousand, Pecksniff. You must
make it up five. It's worth that, to keep your treasure to
yourself, you know. You get off ver}^ cheap that way, and
haven't a sacrifice to make."

The grin with which he accompanied this, set off his other
attractions to such unspeakable advantage, that even Mr.
Pecksniff lost his presence of mind for a moment, and looked
at the young man as if he were quite stupefied with wonder
and admiration. But he quickly regained his composure,
and was in the very act of changing the subject, wlien a hasty
step was heard without, and I'om Pinch, in a state of great
excitement, came darting into the room.

On seeing a stranger there, apparently engaged with Mr.
Pecksniff in private con\'ersation, Tom was very much abashed,
though he still looked as if he had something of great impor-
tance to communicate, which would be a sufficient apology
for his intrusion.

" Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, " this is hardly decent. You
will excuse my saying that 1 think your conduct scarcely
decent, Mr. Pinch."

" I beg your pardon, 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 contemptuous, only passively, for he
was in a good humor.

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 343

"Could I speak a word with you, sir, if you please? "
said Tom. " It's rather pressing."

" It should be very pressing to justify this strange beha-
vior, Mr. Pinch," returned his master. '" 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 the passage : '" and I know it
must have a very rude appearance — "

" It has a very rude appearance, INIr. Pinch.''

" Yes, I feel that, sir ; but the truth is, I was so surprised
to see them, and knew you would be too, 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 amuse-
ment, when I happened 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 off, and said,
would they walk up into the organ-loft, or take a seat t No,
they said they wouldn't do that ; but thev thanked me for the
music they had heard. In fact," observed Tom, blushing, " they
said, ' Delicious music ! ' at least, she did ; and I am sure that
was a greater pleasure and honor to me, than any compliment
I could have had I — I — beg your pardon, sir ; " he was all in
a tremble, and dropped his hat for the second time ; " but 1
— I'm rather flurried, and I fear I've wandered from the
point."

" If you will come back to it, Thomas," said Mr. Pecksniff,
with and icy look, " I shall feel obliged."

" Yes, sir,'' returned Tom, "certainly. They had a post-
ing carriage at the porch, sir, and had stopped to hear the
organ, they said. And then they said — she said, 1 mean. ' I
believe you live with Mr. Pecksniff, sir .^ ' I said I had that
honor, and I took the liberty, sir,'' added Tom, raising his
eyes to his benefactor's face, " of saying, as I always will and
must, with your permission, that I was under great obligations
to you, and never could express my sense of them sufficiently."

" That," said Mr. Pecksniff, " was very, very wrong. Take
your time, Mr. Pinch."

" Thank vou, sir," cried Tom. " On that thev asked me
— she asked, I mean — 'Wasn't there a bridle road to Mr.
Pecksniff's house — 1

! ))

344 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

Mr. Pecksniff suddenly became full of interest.

"'Without going by the Dragon?' When I said there
was, and said how happy 1 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'll be here, sir, in — in less
than a minute's time, I should say," added Tom, fetching his
breath with difficulty.

"Now, who," said Mr. Pecksniff, pondering, "who may
these people be ? "

" 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 positively stag-
gered with amazement, at witnessing the extraordinary effect
produced on Mr. Pecksniff by these simple words. The
dread of losing the old man's favor almost as soon as they
were reconciled, through the mere fact of having Jonas 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, without offending him — beyond recall ; the horrible dis-
cordance prevailing in the establishment, and the impossi-
bility of reducing it to decent harmony, with Charity in loud
hysterics, Mercy in the utmost disorder, Jonas in the parlor,
and Martin Chuzzlewit and his young charge upon the ver)'
door-steps ; the total hopelessness of being able to disguise
or feasibly explain this state of rampant confusion ; the sudden
accumulation over his devoted head of ever)^ complicated
perplexity and entanglement for his extrication from which he
had trusted to time, good fortune, chance, and his own plot-
ting, so filled the entrapped architect with dismay, that if Tom
could have been a Gorgon staring at Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr.
Pecksniff could have been a Gorgon staring at Tom, they could
not have horrified each other half so much as in their own
bewildered persons.

" Dear, dear ! " cried Tom, " what have I done .-" I hoped
it would be a pleasant surprise, sir. I thought you would
like to know."

But at that moment a loud knocking was heard at the hall
door.

\

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

345

CHAPTER XXI.

MORE AMERICAN EXPERIENCES. MARTIN TAKES A PARTNER,
AND MAKES A PURCHASE. SOME ACCOUNT OF EDEN, AS
IT APPEARED ON PAPER. ALSO OF THE BRITISH LION.
ALSO OF THE KIND OF SYMPATHY PROFESSED AND ENTER-
TAINED BY THE WATERTOAST ASSOCIATION OF UNITED
SYMPATHIZERS.

The knocking at Mr. Pecksniff's door, though loud enough,
bore no resemblance whatever to the noise of an American
railway train at full speed. It may be well to begin the pres-
ent chapter with this frank admission, lest the reader should
imairine that the sounds now deafeninir this histor\-"s ears have
any connection with the knocker on Mr. Pecksniff's door, or
with the great amount of agitation pretty equally divided be-
tween that worthy man and Mr. Pinch, of which its strong
performance was the cause.

Mr. Pecksniff's house is more than a thousand leagues
away ; and again this ha]Dpy chronicle has Liberty and Moral
Sensibility for its high companions. Again it breathes the bless-
ed air of Independence ; again it contemplates with pious awe
that moral sense which renders unto Cassar nothing that is his ;
again inhales that sacred atmosphere which was the life of
him — oh noble patriot, with many followers ! — who dreamed
of Freedom in a slave's embrace, and waking sold her off-
spring and his own in public markets,

How the wheels clank and rattle, and the tram-road
shakes, as the train rushes on ! And now the engine yells,
as it were lashed and tortured like a living laborer, and writhed
in agony. A poor fancy ; for steel and iron are of infi-
nitely greater account, in this commonwealth, of flesh and
blood. If the cunning work of man be urged beyond its power
of endurance, it has within it the elements of its own revenge \
whereas the wretched mechanism of the Divine Hand is dan-
gerous with no such property, but may be tampered with, and
crushed, and broken, at the driver's pleasure. Look at that
engine ! It shall cost a man more dollars in the way of pen-
ally and fine, and satisfaction of the outraged law, to deface
in wantonness that senseless mass of metal, than to take the

346 MARThV CHUZZLEWIT.

lives of twenty humart creatures ! Tims the stars wink upon
the bloody stripes ; and Liberty pulls down her cap on 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 re-
flections as these ; nor is it very probable that his mind was
disturbed by any reflections at all. He leaned with folded
arms and crossed legs against the side of the carriage, smok-
ing ; and except when he expressed, by a grunt as short as his
pipe, his approval of some particularly dexterous aim on the
part of his colleague, the fireman, who beguiled his leisure by
throwing logs of wood from the tender at the numerous stray
cattle on the line, he preserved a composure so immovable,
and an indifference so complete, that if the locomotive had
been a sucking-pig, he could not have been more perfectly in-
different to its doings. Notwithstanding the tranquil state of
this ofticer, and his unbroken peace of mind, ti.e train was
proceeding with tolerable rapidity ; and the rails being but
poorly laid, the jolts and bumps it met with in its progress
were neither slight nor few.

There were three great caravans or cars attached. The
ladies' car, the gentlemen's car, and the cars for negroes :
the latter painted black, as an appropriate compliment to its
company. Martin and Mark Tapley were in the first, as it
was the most comfortable ; and, being far from full, received
other gentlemen who, like them, were unblessed 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 anx-
ious expression, " and so you are 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 contraiiy, sir," returned Mark. " The jolliest
week as ever I spent in my life, was that there week at Paw-
kins's."

" What do you think of our prospects .' " inquired Martin,
with an air that plainly said he had avoided the question for
some time.

" Uncommon bright, sir," returned Mark. " Impossible
for a place to ha\e a better name, sir, than the Walley of
Eden, No man couldn't think of setting in a better place
than the Walley of Eden. And I'm told," added Mark after

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

347

a pause, " as there's lot's of serpents there, so we shall come
out, quite complete and reg'lar."

So far from dwelling upon this agreeable piece of infor-
mation with the least dismay, Mark's face grew radiant as he
called it to mind ; so very radiant that a stranger might have
supposed he had all his life been yearning for the society of
serpents, and now hailed with delight the approaching con-
summation of his fondest wishes.

" Who told you that ? " asked Martin, sternly.

"A military ofificer," said Mark.

" Confound you for a ridiculous fellow ! " cried Martin,
laughing heartily in spite of himself. " What military otificer ?
You know they spring up in oxcx^ field."

" As thick as scarecrows in England, sir," interposed
Mark, "which is a sort of militia themselves, being entirely
coat and wescoat, 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 informed,' he says — not exactly
through his nose, but as if he'd got a stoppage in it, very high
up — ' that you're a going to the Walley of Eden ? ' 'I heard
some talk on it,' I told him. 'Oh ! ' savs he, ' if vou should
ever happen to go to bed there^you may, \o\\ know,' he says,
* in course of time as civilization progresses — don't foi^get
to take a axe with you.' .1 looks at him tolerable hard.
' Fleas ? ' says L ' And more,' says he. ' Wampires ? ' says
I. ' And more,' says he. ' Musquitoes, perhaps ? ' says L
' And more,' says he. ' What more ? ' says I. ' Snakes more,'
says he ; ' rattlesnakes. You're right to a certain extent,
stranger. There air some catawampous chawers in the small
way too, as graze upon a human pretty strong; but don't
mind them, they're company. It's snakes,' he says, 'as you'll
object to ; and whenever you wake and see one in an upright
poster on your bed,' he says, ' like a corkscrew with the han-
dle off a sittin' on its bottom ring, cut him down, for he
means wenom.' "

"Why didn't you tell me this before ! " cried Martin, with
an expression of face which set off the cheerfulness of Mark's
visage to great advantage.

" I never thought on it, sir," said Mark. " It come in at one
ear, and went out at the other. But 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 opposition one."

348

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"There's some probability in that," observed Martin ; " I
can honestly say that i hope so, witii all my heart."

" I've not a doubt about it, sir," returned Mark, who, full
of the inspiriting influence of the anecdote upon himself, had
for the moment forgotten its probable effect upon his master :
" anyhow, we must live, you know, sir."

" Live ! " 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 be not 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 gentleman, on the
seat behind, had thrust his head between himself and Mark,
and sat with his chin resting on the back rail of their little
bench, entertaining himself with their conversation. He was
as languid and listless in his looks as most of the gentlemen
they had seen ; his cheeks were so hollow that he seemed to
be always sucking them in ; and the sun had burnt him, not a
wholesome red or brown, but dirty yellow. He had bright
dark eyes, which he kept half closed ; only peeping out of the
corners, and even then with a glance that seemed to say,
" Now you won't overreach me : you want to, but you won't."
His arms rested carelessly on his knees as he 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 pen-
knife. He struck into the dialogue with as little reserve as
if he had been specially called in, days before, to hear the
arguments on both sides, and favor them with his opinion ;
and he no more contemplated or cared for the possibility of
their not desiring the honor of his acquaintance or interference
in their private affairs, than if he had been a bear or a buffalo.

"That," he repeated, nodding condescendingly to Martin,
as to an outer barbarian and foreigner, " is dreadful true.
Darn all manner of vermin."

Martin could not help frowning for a moment, as if he
were disposed to insinuate that the gentleman had uncon-
sciously " darned " himself. But remembering the wisdom
of doing at Rome as Romans do, he smiled with the pleasant-
est expression he could assume upon so short a notice.

Their new friend said no more just then, being busily em-
ployed in cutting a quid or plug from his cake of tobacco, and
whistling softly to himself the while. When he had shaped il

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 349

to his liking, ])e took out his old plug, and deposited the same
on the back of the seat between Mark and Martin, while he
thrust the new one into the hollow of his cheek, where it
looked liked a large walnut, or tolerable pippin. Finding it
quite satisfactory, he struck the point of his knife 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 his chin upon
the rail as before, and approving of the pattern on Martin's
waistcoat, reached out his hand to feel the texture of that
garment.

" What do you call this now ? " he asked.

"Upon mv \'ford," said Martin, " I don't know what it is
called."

" It'll cost a dollar or more a yard, I reckon ? "

" I really don't know."

"In my country," said the gentleman, " we know the cost
of our own produce."

Martin not discussing the question, there was a pause.

" Well ! " resumed their new friend, after staring at them
intently during the whole interval of silence, "how's the un-
nat'ral old parent by this time .'' "

Mr. Tapley regarding this inquiry as only another version
of the 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 rei^Iv. "How's she! Procrressins:
back'ards I expect, as usual ? Well ! How's Queen
Victoria ? "

" In good health, I believe," said Martin.

"Queen Victoria won't shake in licr royal shoes at all,
when she hears to-morrow named,'' observed the stranger.
"No."'

" Not that I aiii aware of. Why should she.' "

" She won't be taken with a cold chill, when slie realizes
what is being done in these diggings," said the stranger.
" No."

" No," said Martin. " I think 1 could take my oath of
that."

The strange gentleman looked at him as if in pity for his
ignorance or prejudice, and said :

35°

MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT.

" Well, sir, I tell you this — there ain't a en-gine with its
biler bust, in God A'mighty's free U-nited States, so fixed, and
nipped, and frizzled to a most e-tarnal smash, as that young
critter, in her luxurious location in the Tower of London, will
be, when she reads the next double-extra Watertoast Ga-
zette."

Several other gentlemen had left their seats and gathered
round during the foregoing dialogue. They were highly de-
lighted with this speech. One very lank gentleman, in a loose
limp white cravat, a long white waistcoat, and a black great-
coat, who seemed to be in authority among them, felt called
upon to acknowledge it.

" Hem ! Mr. La Fayette Kettle," he said, taking off his
hat.

There was a grave murmur of " Hush ! "

" Mr. La Fayette Kettle ! Sir ! "

Mr. Kettle bowed.

" In the name of this company, sir, and in the name of our
common country, and in the name of that righteous cause of
holy sympathy in which we are engaged, I thank you. I thank
you, sir, in the name of the Watertoast Sympathizers ; and I
thank you, sir, in the name of the Watertoast Gazette ; and I
thank you, sir, in the name of the star-spangled banner of the
Great United States, for your eloquent and categorical expo-
sition. And if, sir," said the speaker, 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 venture to con-elude with a senti-
ment, glancing — however slantin'dicularly — at the subject in
hand, I would say, sir, may the British TJon have his talons
eradicated by the noble bill of the American Eagle, and be
taught to play upon the Irish Harp and the Scotch Fiddle
that music which is breathed in ever}- empty shell that lies
upon the shores of green Columbia ! "

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 p]ritisb
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
me the honor to consider me his representative, I have only
to say that I never heard of Queen Victoria reading the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 351

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 3 "for she
don't live there."

" The Queen of England, gentlemen," observed Mr. Tap-
ley, 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 parlor-chimney smoking."

" Mark," said Martin, " 1 shall be very much obliged to
you if you'll have the goodness not to interfere with prepos-
terous 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 hap-
pen to live in the Tower of London."

" General ! " cried Mr. La Fayette Kettle. " You hear >. "

" General ! " echoed several others. " General ! "

" Hush ! Pray, silence ! " said General Choke, holding
up his hand, and speaking with a patient and complacent
benevolence that was quite touching. " I have always re-
marked it as a very extraordinar)^ circumstance, which I im-
pute 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 forests of this vast Con-
tinent of the Western Ocean ; that tlie knowledge of Britishers
themselves on such points is not to be compared with that
possessed by our intelligent and locomotive citizens. This is
interesting, and confirms my observation. When you say,
sir," he continued, addressing Martin, " that your Queen does
not reside in the Tower of London, you fall into an error, not
uncommon to your countrymen, even when their abilities and
moral elements air such as to command respect. But, sir, you
air wrong. She does 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 benignant way ; " for if her
location was in Windsor Pavilion it couldn't be in London at

352

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

the same time. Your Tower of London, sir," pursued the
General, smiling with a mild consciousness of his knowledge,
" is nat'rally your royal residence. Being located in the im-
mediate neighborhood of your Parks, your Drives, your
Triumphant Arches, your Opera, and your Royal Almacks, it
nat'rally suggests itself as the place for holding a luxurious
and thoughtless court. And, consequently," said the General,
" consequently, the 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
information 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 whis-
pered 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 country ? " said
Martin, at a venture.

" That's a fact/' rejoined Kettle. " I was sure you must
have heard of him ! "

"I think," said Martin, addressing himself to the General
again, " that I have the pleasure of being the bearer of a letter
of introduction to you, sir. From Mr. Bevan, of Massachu-
setts," he added, giving it to him.

The General took it and read it attentively, now and then
stopping to glance at the two strangers. When he had fin-
ished the note, he came 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 advice," replied
Martin. " I am told there is nothing to be done in the old
towns."

" I can introduce you to the agent, sir," said the General.
" I know him. In fact, I am a member of the Eden Land
Corporation myself."

This was serious news to Martin, for his friend had laid
great stress upon the General's having no connection, as he
thought, with any land company, and therefore being likely to
give hmi disinterested advice. The General explained that he
had joined the Corporation only a few weeks ago, and that no
communication had passed between himself and Mr. Bevan
since.

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

353

" We have very little to venture," said Martin anxiously :
*' only a few pounds ; but it is our all. Now, 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 the speculation, it wouldn't have en-
gaged my dollars, 1 opinionate."

" 1 don't mean for the sellers," said Martin. " For the
buyers, for the buyers ! "

" For the buyers, sir ? " observed the General, in a most
impressi\'e manner. " Well ! you come from an old country :
from a country, sir, that has piled up golden calves as high as
Babel, and worshipped 'em for ages. We are a new country,
sir ; man 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 have no false gods ; man, sir, here,
is man in all 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 of his benevo-
lence— " here am I with gray hairs, sir, and a moral sense.
Would I, with my principles, invest capital in this speculation
if I didn't think it full of hopes and chances for my brother
man ? "

Martin tried to look convinced, but he thought of New
York, and found it difficult.

"What are the Great United States for, sir," pursued the
General, " if not for the regeneration of man ? But it is
natVal 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
hardships we are prepared to undergo, there is a reasonable
— Heaven knows we don't expect much — a reasonable open-
ing in this place ? "

" A reasonable opening in Eden, sir ! But see the agent,
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 is an awful lovely pLice, sure-ly. And frightful wliole-
some, likewise ! " said Mr. Kettle, who had made himself a
party to this conversation as a matter of course.

Martin felt that to dispute such testimony, for no better
reason than because he had his secret misgivings on the sub-

^2>

354 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

ject, would be ungentlemanly and indecent. So he thanked
the General for his promise to put him in personal communica-
tion with the agent ; and " concluded " to see that officer
next morning. He then begged the General to inform him
who the Watertoast Sympathizers were, of whom he had
spoken in addressing Mr. La Fayette Kettle, and on what
grievances they bestowed their Sympathy. To which the
General, looking very serious, made answer, that he might
fully enlighten himself on those points to-morrow by attend-
ing a Great Meeting of the Body, which would then be held
at the town to which they were travelling : " over which, sir,"
said the General, " my fellow-citizens have called on me to
preside."

They came to their journey's end late in the evening.
Close to the railway was an immense white edifice, like an
ugly hospital, on which was painted " National Hotel."
There was a wooden gallery or veranda in front, in which it
was rather startling, when the train stopped, to behold a great
many pairs of boots and shoes, and the smoke of a great
many cigars, but no other evidences of human habitation. By
slow degrees, however, some heads and shoulders appeared,
and connecting themselves with the boots and shoes, led to
the discovery that certain gentlemen boarders, who had a
fancy for putting their heels where the gentlemen boarders in
other countries usually put their heads, were enjoying them-
selves after 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 table was being set out for supper.
There were interminable whitewashed staircases, long white-
washed galleries up stairs and down stairs, scores of little
whitewashed bed-rooms, and a four-sided veranda to every
story in the house, which formed a large brick square with an
uncomfortable court-yard in the centre, where some clothes
were dr3ing. 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 together, there, in their looks, dress, morals, man-
ners, habits, intellect, and conversation, were Mr. Jefferson
Brick, Colonel Diver, Major Pawkins, General Choke, and
Mr. La Fayette Kettle, over, and over, and over again. They
did the same things, said the same things, judged all sub-
jects by, and reduced all subjects to, the same standard. //Ob-
serving how they lived, and how they were always in the en-

MARTIN CHUZZLEiriT.

355

chanting company of each other, Martin even began to com-
prehend 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 neighboring stores other guests came
tlocking 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 sw'allowed with the usual ravaging speed ;
and then, as before, the company dropped off by degrees, and
lounged away to the desk, the counter, or the bar-room. I'he
ladies had a smaller ordinary of their own, to which their hus-
bands and brothers were admitted if they chose ; and in all
other respects they enjoyed themselves as at Pawkins's.

"Now, Mark, my good fellow," said Martin, closing the
door of his little chamber, " we must hold a solemn council,
for our fate is decided to-morrow morning. You are deter-
mined to invest these savings of yours in the common stock,
are you ? "

" If 1 hadn't been determined to make that wentur, sir,"
answered Mr. Tapley, " I shouldn't have come."

" How much is there here, did you say .-' " asked Martin,
holding up a little bag.

"Thirty-seven pound ten and sixpence. The Savings'
Bank said so, at least, I never counted it. But they know,
bless you ! " said Mark, with a shake of the head expressive
of his unbounded confidence in the wisdom and arithmetic of
those Institutions.

" The money we brought with us," said Martin, " is re-
duced to a few shillings less than eight pounds."

Mr. Tapley smiled, and looked all manner of ways, tliat he
might not be supposed to attach any importance to this fact.

"Upon the ring — //ev ring, Mark," said Martin, looking
ruefully at his empty finger —

" Ah ! " sighed Mr. Tapley. " Beg your pardon, sir."

" — We raised, in English money, fourteen pounds. So,
even with that, your share of the stock is still very much the
larger of the two, you see. Now, Mark," said Martin, in his
old way, just as he might have spoken to Tom Pinch, " 1 ha\e
thought of a means of making this up to you, more than
making it up to you I hope, and very materially elevating
your prospects in life."

356 ^/-^ ^ TIN- CHUZZLE WIT.

" Oh ! don't talk of that, 3'ou know, sir," returned Mark.
" I don't want no elevating, sir. I'm all right enough, sir, /
am."

" No, but hear me," said Mariin, " because this is very im-
portant to you, and a great satisfaction to me. Mark, you
shall be a partner in the business — an equal partner with my-
self. I will put in, as my additional capital, my professional
knowledge and ability ; and half the annual profits, as long as
it is carried on, shall be yours."

Poor Martin ! For ever building castles in tl^e air. For
ever, in his very selfishness, forgetful of all but his own teem-
ing hopes and sanguine plans. Swelling, at that instant, with
the consciousness of patronizing and most munificently re-
warding Mark !

" I don't know, sir," Mark rejoined, much more sadly than
his custom was, though from a very different cause than Martin
supposed, " what I can say to this, in the way of thanking
you. I'll stand by you, sir, to the best of my abilitv, and to
the last. That's all."

" We quite understand each other, my good fellow," said
Martin, rising in self-approval and condescension. " We are
no longer master and servant, but friends and partners ; and
are mutuallv gratified. If we determine on Eden, the business
shall be commenced as soon as we get there. Under the
name," said Martin, who never hammered upon an idea that
Wasn't red hot — "under the name of Chuzzlewit and Tapley."

"Lord love you, sir," cried Mark, "don't have my name
in it. I ain't acquainted with the business, sir. I must be
Co., I must. I've often thought," he added, in a low voice,
" as I should like to know a Co. ; but I little thought as ever
I should li\e to be one."

"You shall have your own way, Mark."

" Thank'ee, sir. If any country gentleman thereabouts, m
the public way, or otherwise, wanted such a thing as a skittle-
ground made, I could take that part of the bis'ness, sir."

" Against any architect in the States," said Martin. "Get
a couple of sherry-cobblers, Mark, and we'll drink success to
the firm."

Either he forgot already (and often afterwards), that they
were no longer master and servant, or considered this kind of
duty to be among the legitimate functions of the Co. But
Mark obeyed with his usual alacrity ; and before they parted
for the night, it was agreed between them that they should go

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT.

357

together to the agent's in the morning, but that Martin should
decide the Eden question, on his own sound judgment. And
Mark made no merit, even to himself in his jollity, of this
concession ; perfectly well knowing that the matter would
come to that in the end, any way.

The General was one of the party at the public table next
day, and after breakfast suggested that they should wait upon
the agent without loss of time. They, desiring nothing more,
agreed ; so off they all four started for the office of the Eden
Settlement, which was almost within rifle-shot of the National
Hotel.

It was a small place, something like a turnpike. But a
great deal of land may be got into a dice-box, and why may
not a whole territory be bargained for in a shed ? It was but
a temporary office too ; for the Edeners were " going " to build
a superb establishment for the transaction of their business,
and had already got so far as to mark out the site. Which is
a great way in America. The office-door was wide open, and
in the door-way was the agent ; no doubt a tremendous fellow
to get through his work, for lie seemed to have no arrears, but
was swinging backwards and forwards in a rocking-chair, with
one of his legs planted high up against the door-post, and the
other doubled up under him, as if he were hatching his foot.

He was a gaunt man in a huge straw hat, and a coat of
green stuff. The weather being hot, he had no cravat, and
wore his shirt collar wide open ; so that every time he spoke
something was seen to twitch and jerk up in his throat, like
the little hammers in a harpsichord when the notes are struck.
Perhaps it was the Truth feebly endeavoring to leap to his
lips. If so, it never reached them.

Two gray eyes lurked deep within this agent's head, but
one of them had no sight in it, and stood stock still. With
that side of his face he seemed to listen to what the other side
was doing. Thus each profile had a distinct expression, and
when the movable side was most in action, the rigid one was
in its coldest state of watchfulness. It was like turning the
man inside out, to pass to that \iew of his features in his live-
liest mood, and see how calculating and intent they were.

luich long black hair upon his head hung down as straight
as any plummet line ; but rumpled tufts were on the arches of
his eyes, as if the crow whose foot was deeply printed in the
corners, had pecked and torn them in a savage recognition of
his kindred nature as a bird of prey.

35S

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Such was the man whom they now approached, and whom
the General saluted by the name of Scadder.

"Well, Gen'ral," he returned, "and how are you?"

" Ac-tive and spry, sir, in my country's service and the
sympathetic cause. Two gentlemen on business, Mr. Scad-
der."

He shook hands with each of them (nothing is done in
America without shaking hands) then went on rocking.

" 1 think I know what bis'ness you have brought these
strangers here upon, then, Gen'ral .'' "

" Well, sir. I expect you may."

" You air a tongue-y person, Gen'ral. For you talk too
much, and that's a fact," said Scadder. "You speak a-larm-
ing well in public, but you didn't ought to go ahead so fast in
private. Now ! "

'.' If I can realize your meaning, ride me on a rail ! " re-
turned the General, after pausing for consideration.

" You know we didn't wish to sell the lots off right away
to any loafer as might bid," said Scadder \ "but had con-eluded
to reserve 'em for Aristocrats of Natur'. Yes ! "

" And they are here, sir ! " cried the General with warmth.
" They are here, sir ! "

" If they air here," returned the agent, in reproachful ac-
cents, " that's enough. But you didn't ought to have your
dander ris with me, Gen'ral."

The General whispered Martin that Scadder was the hon-
estest fellow in the world, and that he wouldn't have given
him offence designedly, for ten thousand dollars.

" 1 do my duty ; and I raise the dander of my fellow crit-
ters, as I wish to serve," said Scadder in a low voice, looking
down the road and rocking still. " They rile up rough, along
of my objecting to their selling Eden off too cheap. That's
human natur' ! Well ! "

" Mr. Scadder," said the General, assuming his oratorical
deportment. " Sir ! Here is my hand, and here my heart. I
esteem you, sir, and ask your pardon. These gentlemen are
friends of mine, or I would not have brought 'em here, sir,
being well aware, sir, that the lots at present go entirely too
cheap. But these air friends, sir : these air partick'ler
friends."

Mr. Scadder was so satisfied by this explanation, that he
shook the General warmly by the hand, and got out of the
rocking-chair to do it. He then invited the General's particu-

sprin^

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 3^g

lar friends to accompany him into tlie office. As to the Gen-
eral, he observed, with liis usual benevolence, that being one
of the company, he wouldn't interfere in the transaction on
any account \ so he appropriated the rocking-chair to himself,
and looked at the prospect, like a good Samaritan waiting for
a traveller.

" Heyday ! " cried Martin, as his eye rested on a great
plan which occupied one whole side of the office. Indeed,
the office had little else in it, but some geological and botani-
cal specimens, one or two rusty ledgers, a homely desk, and
a stool. " Heyday ! what's that ? "

"That's Eden," said Scadder, picking his teeth with a sort
of young bayonet that Hew out of his knife when he touched a

rr

' Why, I had no idea it was a city."

" Hadn't you >. Oh, it's a city."

A flourishing city, too ! An architectural city ! There
were banks, churches, cathedrals, market-places, factories, ho-
tels, stores, mansions, wharves ; an exchange, a theatre, pub-
lic buildings of all kinds, down to the office of the P^len
Stinger, a daily journal ; all faithfully depicted in the view be-
fore them.

" Dear me ! It's really a most important place!" cried
Martin, turning round.

" Oh ! it's very important," observed the agent.

" But, I am afraid," said Martin, glancing again al the
Public Buildings, "that there's nothing left for me to do."

" Well, it ain't all built," replied the agent. " Not quite."

This was a great relief.

" The market-place, now," said Martin. " Is that built ? "

" That .-• " said the agent, sticking his toothpick into the
weathercock on the top. " Let me see. No : that ain't
built."

" Rather a good job to begin with. Eh, Mark 1 " whis-
pered Martin, nudging him with his elbow.

Mark, who, with a very stolid countenance had been eye-
ing the plan and the agent by turns, merely rejoined " Uncom-
mon ! "

A dead silence ensued, Mr. Scadder in some short recesses
or vacations of his toothpick, whistled a few bars of Yankee
Doodle, and blew the dust off the roof of the Theatre.

" I suppose," said Martin, feigning to look more narrowly
at the plan, but showing by his tremulous voice how much de-

360

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

pended, in his mind, upon the answer — " I suppose there are
— several architects there ? "

" There ain't a single one," said Scadder.

" Mark," whispered Martin, pullins; him by the sleeve, " do
you hear that ? But whose work is all this before us, then ? "
he asked aloud.

" The soil being very fruitful, public buildings grows spon-
taneous, perhaps," said Mark.

He was on the agent's dark side as he said it ; but Scad-
der instantly changed his place, and brought his active eye to
bear upon him.

" Feel of my hands, young man," he said.

"What for? " asked Mark, declining.

" Air they dirty, or air they clean, sir } " said Scadder,
holding them out.

In a physical point of view they were decidedly dirty.
But it being obvious that Mr. Scadder offered them for exam-
ination in a figurative sense, as emblems of his moral charac-
ter, Martin hastened to pronounce them pure as the driven
snow.

" I entreat, Mark," he said, with some irritation, " that
you will not obtrude remarks of that nature, which, however
harmless and well-intentioned, are quite out of place, and can-
not be expected to be very agreeable to strangers. I am quite
surprised."

" The Co.'s a putting his foot in it already," thought Mark.
" He must be a sleeping partner — fast asleep and snoring Co.
must — / see."

Mr. Scadder said nothing, but he set his back against the
plan, and thrust his toothpick into the desk some twenty
times, looking at Mark all the while as if he were stabbing
him in effig)^

" You haven't said whose work it is," Martin ventured to
observe, at length, in a tone of mild propitiation.

" Well, never mind whose work it is, or isn't," said the
agent sulkily. " No matter how it did eventuate. P'raps he
cleared off, handsome, with a heap of dollars ; p'raps he wasn't
worth a cent. P'raps he was a loafin' rowdy ; p'raps a ring-
tailed roarer. Now ! "

" All your doing, Mark ! " said Martin.

" P'raps," pursued the agent, " them a'nt plants of Eden's
raising. No ! P'raps that desk and stool ain't made from
Eden lumber. No ! P'raps no end of squatters ain't gone

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

361

out there. No ! P'raps there ain't no sucli location in the
territoary of the Great U-nited States. Oh, no ! "

" I hope you're satisfied with the success of your joke,
Mark," said Martin.

But here, at a most opportune and happy time, the Gen-
eral interposed, and called out to Scadder trom the doorway
to give his friends the particulars of that little lot of fifty acres
with the house upon it ; which, having belonged to the company
formerly, had lately lapsed again into their hands.

" You air a deal too open-handed, Gen'ral," was the an-
swer. "It is a lot as should be rose in price. It is."

He grumblingly opened his books notwithstanding, and al-
ways keeping his. bright side towards Mark, no matter at what
amount of inconvenience to himself, displayed a certain leaf
for their perusal. Martin read it greedily, and then inquired :

" Now where upon the plan may this place be ? "

" Upon the plan 1 " said Scadder.

" Yes."

He turned towards it, and reflected for a short time, as if,
having been put upon his mettle, he was resolved to be par-
ticular to the very minutest hair's breadth of a shade. At
length, after wheeling his toothpick slowly round and round
in the air, as if it were a carrier pigeon just thrown up, he sud-
denly made a dart at the drawing, and pierced the very centre
of the main wharf, through and through.

" There ! " he said, leaving his knife quivering in the wall ;
" that's where it is ! "

Martin glanced with sparkling eyes upon his Co., and his
Co. saw that the thing was done.

The bargain was not concluded as easily as might have
been expected though, for Scadder was caustic and ill-
humored, and cast much unnecessary, opposition in the way ;
at one time requesting them to think of it, and call again in a
week or a fortnight ; at another predicting that they wouldn't
like it ; at another offering to retract and let them off, and mut-
tering strong imprecations u]jon the folly of the General. But
the whole of the astoundingly small sum-total of purchase-
money — it was only one hundred and fifty dollars, or some-
thing more than thirty pounds of the capital brought by Co.
into the architectural concern — was ultimately paid down ;
and Martin's head was two inches nearer the roof of the little
wooden office, with the consciousness of being a landed pro-
prietor in the thriving city of Eden.

362 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

If it shouldn't happen to fit," said Scadder, as he gave
Martin the necessary credentials on receipt of his money,
" don't blame me."

" No, no," he replied merrily. " We'll not blame you.
General, are you going ? "

" I am at your service, sir ; and I wish you," said the
General, giving him his hand with grave cordiality, " joy of
your po-ssession. You air now, sir, a denizen of the most
powerful and highly-civilized do-minion that has ever graced
the world ; a do-minion, sir, where man is bound to man in
one vast bond of equal love and truth. May you, sir, be
worthy of your a-dopted country! "

Martin thanked him, and took leave of Mr. Scadder, who
had i^esumed his post in the rocking-chair, immediately on the
General's rising from it, and was once more swinging away as
if he had never been disturbed. Mark looked back several
times as they went down the road towards the National Hotel,
but now his blighted profile was towards them, and nothing
but attentive thoughtfulness was written on it. Strangely dif-
ferent to the other side ! He was not a man much given to
laughing, and never laughed outright ; but eveiy line in the
print of the crow's foot, and every little wiry vein in that
division of his head, was wrinkled up into a grin ! The com-
pound figure of Death and the Lady at the top of the old
ballad w-as not di\ided with a greater nicety, and hadn't
halves more monstrously unlike each other, than the two pro-
files of Zephaniah Scadder.

The General posted along at a great rate, for the clock
was on the stroke of twelve ; and at that hour precisely, the
Great Meeting of the Watertoast Sympathizers was to be
holden in the public room of the National Hotel. Being very
curious to witness the demonstration, and know what it was
all about, Martin kept close to the General ; and, keeping
closer than ever when they entered the Hall, got by that
means upon a little platform of tables at the upper end,
where an arm-chair was set for the General, and Mr. La
Fayette Kettle, as secretary, was making a great display of
some foolscap documents. Screamers, no doubt.

" Well, sir ! " he said, as he shook hands with Martin,
" here is a spectacle calc'lated to make the British Lion put
his tail between his legs, and howl with anguish, I expect ! "

Martin certainly thought it possible that the British Lion
might have been rather out of his element in that Ark ; but

1

MAR TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 363

he kept the idea to himself. The General was then voted to
the chair, on the motion of a pallid lad of the Jefferson Brick
school, who forthwith set in for a high spic-ed speech, with a
good deal about hearths and homes in it, and unriveting the
chains of Tyranny.

Oh but it was a clincher for the British Lion, it was ! The
indignation of the glowing young Columbian knew no bounds.
If lie could only have been one of his own forefathers, he
said, wouldn't he have peppered that same Lion, and been
to him as another Brute hamer v/ith a wire whip, teaching
him lessons not easily forgotten. '* Lion ! (cried that young
Columbian) where is he ? Who is he ? What is he ? Show
him to me. Let^ne have him here. Here ! " said the young
Columbian, in a wrestling attitude, " upon this sacred altar.
Here ! " cried the young Columbian, idealizing the dining-
table, " upon ancestral ashes, cemented with the glorious
blood poured out like water on our native plains of Chicka-
biddy Lick ! Bring forth that Lion ! " said the young Colum-
bian. "Alone, i dare him ! I taunt that Lion. I tell that
Lion, that Freedom's hand once twisted in his mane, he rolls
a corse before me, and the Eagles of the Great Republic laugh
ha, ha ! "

When it was found that the Lion didn't come, but kept
out of the way ; that tiie young Columbian stood there, with
folded arms, alone in his glory ; and consequently that the
Eagles were no doubt laughing wildly on the mountain tops ;
such cheers arose as might ha\e shaken the hands upon the
Horse-Guards' clock, and changed the very mean time of the
day in England's capital.

" Who is this ? " Martin telegraphed to La Fayette.

The Secretary wrote something, very gravely, on a piece
of paper, twisted it up, and had it passed to him from hand
to hand. It was an improvement on the old sentiment: " Per-
haps as remarkable a man as any in our countr)-."

This young Col'imbian was succeeded by another, to the
full as eloquent as he, who drew down storms of cheers. But
both remarkable youths, in their great excitement (for vour
true poetry can never stoop to details), forgot to say v/ith
whom or what the Watertoasters sympathized, and likewise
why or wherefore they were sympathetic. Thus, Martin re-
mained for a long time as completely in the dark as ever ;
until at length a ray of light broke in upon him through the
medium of the secretary, who, by reading the minutes of their

3<^4

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

past proceedings, made the matter somewhat clearer. He
then learned that the Watertoast Association sympathized with
a certain Public Man in Ireland, who held a contest upon cer-
tain points with England ; and that they did so because they
didn't love England at all— not by any means because they
loved Ireland much ; being indeed horribly jealous and dis-
trustful of its people always, and only tolerating them because
of their working hard, which made them very useful ; labor
being held in greater indignity in the simple republic than in
any other country upon earth. This rendered Martin curi-
ous to see what grounds of sjmpathy the Watertoast Associa-
tion put forth ; nor was he long in suspense, for the General
rose to read a letter to the Public Man, which with his own
hands he had written.

"Thus," said the General, "thus, my friends and fellow-
citizens, it runs :

" ' Sir,

" ' I address you on behalf of the Watertoast Association
of United Sympathizers. It is founded, sir, in the great re-
public of America ! and now holds its breath, and swells the
blue veins in its forehead nigh to bursting, as it watches, sir,
with feverish intensity and sympathetic ardor, your noble efforts
in the cause of freedom.' "

At the name of Freedom, and at every repetition of that
name, all the Sympathizers roared aloud ; cheering with nine
times nine, and nine times over.

" ' In Freedom's name, sir — holy Freedom — I address you.
In Freedom's name, I send herewith a contribution to the funds
of your society. In Freedom's name, sir, 1 advert with indig-
nation and disgust to that accursed animal, with gore-stained
wliiskers, whose rampant cruelty and her)- lust have e\ er been
a scourge, a torment to the world. The naked visitors to
Crusoe's Island, sir ; the flying wi\es of Peter Wilkins ; the
fruit-smeared children of the tan^rled bush ; nav, even the men
of large stature, anciently bred in the mining districts of Corn-
wall, alike bear witness to its sava^re nature. Where, sir. are
the Cormorans, the Blunderbores, the Great Feefofums, named
in Historv ? All. all, exterminated by its destroying hand.

'" I allude, sir, to the British Lion.

" ' Devoted, mind and body, heart and soul, to Freedom,
sir — to Freedom, blessed solace to the snail upon the cellnr-
door, the oyster in his pearly bed, the still mite in his home

MARTIN CHUZZLEWrT. 365

of cheese, the very winkle of your country in his shelly lair —
in her unsullied name, we offer you our sympathy. Oh, sir,
in this our cherished and our hapj^y land, her fires burn bright
and clear and smokeless : once lighted up in yours, the lion
shall be roasted whole.

" ' I am, sir, in Freedom's name,

" ' Your affectionate friend and faithful Sympathizer,

" Cyrus Choke, General, U.S.M.' "

It happened that just as the General began to read this
letter, the railroad train arrived, bringing a new mail from
England ; and a packet had been handed in to the Secretary,
which during its perusal and the frequent cheerings in homage
to freedom, he had opened. Now, its contents disturbed him
very much, and the moment the General sat down, he hurried
to his side, and placed in his hand a letter and several printed
extracts from Phiglish newspapers ; to which, in a state of in-
finite excitement, he called his immediate attention.

The General, being greatly heated by his own composition,
was in a fit state to receive anv inflammable inlluence ; but he
had no sooner possessed himself of the contents of these docu-
ments, than a change came over his face, involving such a huge
amount of choler and passion, that the noisy concourse were
silent in a moment, in very wonder at the sight of him,

" My friends! " cried the General rising ; " my friends and
fellow-citizens, we have been mistaken in this man."

" In what man ? " was the cry.

" In this," panted the General, holding uji the letter he
had read aloud a few minutes before. '' I find that he lias
been, and is, the advocate — consistent in it always too— of
Nigger emancipation ! "

If anything beneath the sky be real, those sons of Free-
dom would have pistolled, stabbed — in some way slain — that
man by coward hands and murderous violence, if he had stood
among them at that time. The most confiding of their own
countrymen, would not have wagered then, no, nor would
they ever peril, one dung-hill straw, upon the life of any man
in such a strait. They tore the letter, cast the fragments in
the air, trod down the pieces as they fell, and yelled, and
groaned, and hissed, till they could cry no longer.

" I shall move," said the General, when he could make
himself heard, " that the Watertoast Association of United
Sympathizers be immediately dissolved ! "

366 MAK TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Down with it ! Away with it ! Don't hear of it ! Burn
its records ! Pull the room down ! Blot it out of human
memory !

"But, my fellow-countrymen!" said the General, "the
contributions. We have funds. What is to be done with the
funds ? "

It was hastily resolved that a piece of plate should be pre-
sented to a certain constitutional Judge, who had laid down
.from the Bench the noble principle, that it was lawful for any
white mob to murder any black man ; and that another piece
of plate, of similar value, should be presented to a certain
Patriot, who had declared from his high place in the Legisla-
ture, that he and his friends would hang, without trial, any
Abolitionist wdio might pay them a visit. For the surplus, it
was agreed that it should be devoted to aiding the enforce-
ment of those free and equal laws, which render it incalculably
more criminal and dangerous to teach a negro to read and
write, than to roast him alive in a public city. These points
adjusted, the meeting broke up in great disorder, and there
was an end of the Watertoast Sj'mpathy.

As Martin ascended to his bedroom, his eye was attracted
by the Republican banner, which had been hoisted from the
house-top in honor of the occasion, and Avas fluttering before
a window which he passed.

" Tut ! " said Martin. " You're a gay flag in the distance.
But let a man be near enough to get the light upon the other
side, and see through you, and you are but sorry fustian ! "

CHAPTER XXII.

FROM WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT MARTIN BECAME A LION
ON HIS OWN ACCOUNT. TOGETHER WITH THE REASON WHY.

As soon as it was generally known in the National Hotel,
that the young Englishman, Mr. Chuzzlewit, had purchased a
" lo-cation " in the Valley of Eden, and intended to betake
himself to that earthly Paradise by the next steamboat, he
became a popular character. Why this should be, or how
it had come to pass, Martin no more knew than Mrs.

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

3^7

Gamp, of Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, did ; but that he
was for the time being, the lion, by popular election, of the
Watertoast community, and that his society was in rather in-
convenient request, there could be no kind of doubt.

The first notification he received of this change in his
position, was the following epistle, written in a thin running
hand, — with here and there a fat letter or two, to make the
general effect more striking, — on a sheet of paper, ruled with
blue lines.

" National Hotel, Afonday Aforning.

" Dear Sir,

"When I had the privilege -of being your fellow-
traveller in the cars, the day before )-esterday, you oifered
some remarks upffn the subject of the Tower of London, which
(in common with my fellow-citizens generally) I could wish to
hear repeated to a public audience.

" As Secretary to the Young Men's Watertoast Associa-
tion of this town, 1 am requested to inform you that the So-
ciety will be proud to hear you deliver a lecture upon the
Tower of London, at their Hall to-morrow evening, at seven
o'clock ; and as a large issue of quarter-dollar tickets may be
expected, your answer and consent by bearer will be consid-
ered obliging.

" Dear Sir, yours truly, '

" La Fayette Kettle.

" The Honorable Mr. Chuzzlewit.

" P. S. — The Society would not be particular in limiting
you to the Tower of London. Permit me to suggest that any
remarks upon the Elements of Geology, or (if more conveni-
ent) upon the Writings of your talented and w^itty country-
man, the honorable Mr. Miller, would be well received."

Very much aghast at this invitation, Martin wrote back,
civilly, declining it ; and had scarcely done so, when he re-
ceived another letter.

" (Private).

'■'■ N'o. 47, Bunker Hill Street, Alondav Morning.
" Sir,

" I was raised in those interminable solitudes where
our mighty Mississippi (or l''ather of Waters) rolls liis turbid
flood.

" I am young, and ardent. For there is a poetrj^ in wild-

368 MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT.

ness, and every alligator basking in the slime is in himself an
Epic, self-contained. I aspirate for fame. It is my yearning
and my thirst.

'" Are you, sir, aware of any member of Congress in Eng-
land, who would undertake to pay my expenses to that coun-
try, and for six months after my arrival .-'

" There is something within me which gives me the assur-
ance that this enlightened patronage would not be thrown
away. In literature or art ; the bar, the pulpit, or the stage ;
in one or other, if not all, I feel that I am certain to succeed.

" If too much engaged to write to any such yourself, please
let me have a list of three or four of those most likely to re-
spond, and I will address them through the Post Office. May
I also ask you to favor me with any critical obsen^ations that
have ever presented themselves to your reflective faculties, on
' Cain : a Mystery,' by the Right Honorable Lord Byron .''

" I am, Sir,
" Yours (forgive me if I add, soaringly),

" Putnam Smif.

" P. S. — Address your answer to America Junior, Messrs.
Hancock & Floby, Dry Goods Store, as above."

Both of which letters, together with Martin's reply to each,
were, according to a laudable custom, much tending to the
promotion of gentlemanly feeling and social confidence, pub-
lished in the next number of the Watertoast Gazette.

He had scarcely got through this correspondence, when
Captain Kedgick, the landlord, kindly came up stairs to see
how he was getting on. The Captain sat down upon the bed
before he spoke ; and finding it rather hard, moved to the
pillow.

" Well, sir ! " said the Captain, putting his hat a little
more on one side, for it was rather tight in the crown, " You're
quite a public man I calc'late."

" So it seems," retorted Martin, who was very tired.

"Our citizens, sir," pursued the Captain, "intend to pay
their respects to you. You will have to hold a sort of le — vee,
sir, while j^ou're here."

" Powers above ! " cried Martin, " I couldn't do that my
good fellow ! "

" I reckon you must then," said the Captain.

" Must is not a pleasant word. Captain," urged Martin.

" Well ! I didn't fix the mother language, and I can't un-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 369

fix it," said the Captain, coolly, " else I'd make it pleasant.
You must re-ceive. Tiiat's all.''

" Biit why should I receive people who care as much for
me as 1 care for them .'' '' asked Martin.

" Well ! because I have had a muniment put up in the
bar," returned the Captain.

" A what ? " cried Martin.

"A muniment," rejoined the Captain.

Martin looked despairingly at Mark, who informed him
that the Captain meant a written notice that Mr. Chuzzlewit
would receive the Watertoasters that day, at and after two
o'clock, which was in effect, then hanging in the bar, as Mark
from ocular inspection of the same could testify.

"You wouldn't be unpop'lar, /know," said the Captain,
paring his nails. " Our citizens an't long of riling up, I tell
you \ and our Gazette could flay you like a wild cat."

Martin was going to be very wroth, but he thought better
of it, and said :

" In Heaven's name let them come, then."

"Oh, thefW come," returned the Captain. "I have seen
the big room fixed a'pm-pose, with my eyes."

"But will you," said Martin, seeing that the Captain was
about to go — " will you at least tell me this ? What do they
want to see me for? what have I done? and how do tiu/
happen to have such a sudden interest in me ? "

Captain Kedgick put a thumb and three fingers to each
side of the brim of his hat ; lifted it a little way off his head ;
put it on again carefully ; passed one hand all down his face,
beginning at the forehead and ending at the chin ; looked at
Martin ; then at Mark ; then at Martin again ; winked ; and
walked out.

" Upon my life, now ! " said Martin, bringing his hand
heavily upon the table : " such a perfectly unaccountable fel-
low as that, I never saw. Mark, what do you say to this ? "

"Why, sir," returned his partner, " my opinion is that we
must have got to the most remarkable man in the countr)- at
last. So I hope there's an end to the breed, sir."

Although this made Martin laugh, it couldn't keep off two
o'clock. Punctuallv, as the hour struck, Cajitain Kedgick
returned to hand him to the room of state ; and he had no
sooner got him safe there, than he bawled down the staircase
to his fellow-citizens below, that Mr. Chuzzlewit was " re-
ceiving," 24

37°

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Up they came with a rush. Up they came until the room
■svas full, and, through the open door, a dismal perspective of
more to come, was shown upon the stairs. One after another,
one after another, dozen after dozen, score after score, more,
more, more, up they came, all shaking hands with Martin.
Such varieties of hands, the thick, the thin, the short, the
long, the fat, the lean, the coarse the fine ; such diit'erences
of temperature, the hot, the cold, the diy, the moist, the flab-
by ; such diversities of grasp, the tight, the loose, the short-
lived, and the lingering ! Still up, up, up, more, more, more,
and ever and anon the Captain's voice was heard above the
crowd : " There's more below ! there's more below. Now,
gentlemen, vou that have been introduced to Mr. Chuzzlewit,
will you clear, gentlemen t Will you clear .' Will you be so
good as clear, gentlemen, and make a little room for more ? "

Regardless of the Captain's cries, they didn't clear at all,
but stood there, bolt upright and staring. Two gentlemen
connected with the Watertoast Gazette had come express to
get the matter for an article on Martin. They had agreed to
divide the labor. One of them took him below the waist-
coat ; one above. Each stood directly in front of his subject
with his head a little on one side, intent on his department.
If Martin put one boot before the other, the lower gentleman
was down upon him ; he rubbed a pimple on his nose, and
the upper gentleman booked it. He opened his mouth to
speak, and the same gentleman was on one knee before him,
looking in at his teeth, with the nice scrutiny of a dentist.
Amateurs in the physiognomical and phrenological sciences
roved about him with watchful eyes and itching fingers, and
sometimes one, more daring than the rest, made a mad grasp
at the back of his head, and vanished in the crowd. They
had him in all points of vjew — in front, in profile, three-quarter
face and behind. Those who were not professional or scien-
tific, audibly exchanged opinions on his looks. New lights
shone in upon him, in respect of his nose. Contradictory
rumors were abroad on the subject of his hair. And still the
Captain's voice was heard — so stifled by the concourse, that
he seemed to speak from underneath a feather-bed, exclaim-
ing, " Gentlemen, you that have been introduced to Mr.
chuzzlewit, will you clear ? "

Even when they began to clear, it was no better ; for then
a stream of gentlemen, every one witli a lady on each arm
(exactly like the chorus to the National Anthem when Royalty

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

571

goes in state to the play), came gliding in j every new group
fresher than the last, and bent on staying to the latest mo-
ment. If they spoke to him, which was not often, they
invariably asked the same questions, in the same tone, with
no more remorse, or delicacy, or consideration, than if he had
been a figure of stone, purchased, and paid for, and set up
there, for their delight. Even when, in the slow course of
time, these died off, it was as bad as ever, if not worse ; for then
the boys grew bold, and came in as a class of themselves, and
did everything that the grown-up people had done. Uncouth
stragglers too, appeared ; men of a ghostly kind, who beiiv^
in, didn't know how to get out again ; insomuch that one
silent gentleman with glazed and fishy eyes, and only one
button on his waistcoat (which was a very large metal one,
and shone prodigiously), got behind the door, and stood there,
like a clock, long after everybody else was gone.

Martin felt, from pure fatigue, and heat, and worry, as if
he could have fallen on the ground and willingly remained
there, if they would but have had the mercy to leave hiin
alone. But as letters and messages threatening his public
denouncement if he didn't see the senders, poured in like
hail ; and as more visitors came while he took his coffee by
himself ; and as Mark, with all his vigilance, was unable to
keep them from the door, he resolved to go to bed. Not
that he felt at all sure of bed being any protection, but that
he might not leave a forlorn hope untried.

He had communicated this design to Mark, and was on
the eve of escaping, when the door was thrown open in a great
hurr}% and an elderly gentleman entered, bringing with him a
lady who certainly could not be considered young — that was
matter of fact ; and probably could not be considered hand-
some— but that was matter of opinion. vShe was very straight,
very tall, and not at all flexible in face or figure. On her head
she wore a great straw bonnet, with trimmings of the same,
in which she looked as if she had been thatched by an unskil-
ful laborer ; and in her hand she held a most enormous fan.

" Mr. Chuzzlewit, I believe ? " said the gentleman.

"That is my name."

" Sir," said the gentleman, " I am pressed for time.'

" Thank God ! " thought Martin.

"I go back Toe my home, sir," pursued the gentleman,
"by the return train, which starts immediate. Start is not :*
word you use in your country, sir."'

372 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Oh yes, it is," said Martin.

" You air mistaken, sir," returned the gentleman, with
great decision : " but we will not pursue the subject, lest it
should awake your prejii-dice. Sir, Mrs. Hominy."

Martin bowed.

" Mrs. Hominy, sir, is the lady of Major Hominy, one of
our chicest spirits ; and belongs Toe one of our most aristo-
cratic families. You air, p'raps, acquainted, sir, with Mrs.
Hominy's writings ? "

Martin couldn't say he was.

■■' You have much Toe learn, and Toe enjoy, sir," said the
gentleman. " Mrs. Hominy is going Toe stay until the end
of the Fall, sir, with her married daughter at the settlement
of New Thermopylce, three days this side of Eden. Any at-
tention, sir, that you can show Toe Mrs. Hominy upon the
journey, will be very grateful Toe the Major and our fellow-
citizens. Mrs. Homin}^ I wish you good-night, ma'am, and a
pleasant pro-gress on your rout ! "

Martin could scarcely believe it ; but he had gone, and
Mrs. Hominy was drinking the milk.

"A'most used-up I am, I do declare!" she observed.
"The jolting in the cars is pretty nigh as bad as if the rail
was full of snags and sawyers."

" Snags and sawyers, ma'aiu ? " said Martin.

"Well, then, I do suppose you'll hardly realize my mean-
ing, sir," said Mrs. Hominy. " My ! Only think ! Do tell ! "

It did not appear that these expressions, although they
seemed to conclude with an urgent entreaty, stood in need of
any answer ; for Mrs. Hominy, untying her bonnet-strings,
observed that she would withdraw to lay that article of dress
aside, and would return immediately.

" Mark ! " said Martin. " Touch me, will you. Am I
awake ? "

" Hominy is, sir," returned his partner ; " broad awake !
Just the sort of woman, sir, as would be discovered with her
eyes wide open, and her mind a working for her country's
good, at any hour of the day or night."

They had no opportunity of saying more, for Mrs. Hominy
stalked in again ; very erect, in proof of her aristocratic
blood ; and holding in her clasped hands a red cotton pocket-
handkerchief, perhaps a parting gift from that choice spirit,
the Major. She had laid aside her bonnet, and now ap-
peared in a highly aristocratic and classical cap, meeting

MARTIX CHUZZLEIVIT.

;73

beneath her chin ; a style of head-dress so admirably adapted
to her countenance, that if the late Mr. Grimaldi had appeared
in the lappets of Mrs. Siddons, a more complete effect could
not ha\ e been produced.

Martin handed her to a chair. Her first words arrested
him before he could get back to his own seat.

"Pray, sir!" said Mrs. Hominy, "where do you hail
from.'"

" I am afraid I am dull of comprehension," answered
Martin, " being extremely tired ; but, upon my word, I don't
understand you."

Mrs. Hominy shook herhead \\ath a melancholy smile that
said, not inexpressively, "They corrupt even the language in
that old country ! " and added then, as coming down a step
or two to meet his low capacity, " Where was you rose ? "

" Oh ! " said Martin, " I was born in Kent."

" And how do you like our country, sir ! " asked Mrs.
Hominy.

"Very much indeed," said Martin, half asleep. " At least
— that is — pretty well, ma'am."

" Most strangers — and partick'larly Britishers — are much
surprised by what they see in the U-nited States," remarked
Mrs. Hominy.

" They have excellent reason to be so, ma'am," said
Martin. " I never was so much suq^rised in all my life."

"Our institutions make our people smart much, sir," Mrs.
Hominy remarked.

" The most short-sighted man could see that at a glance,
with his naked eye," said Martin,

Mrs. Hominy was a philosopher and an authoress, and
consequently had a pretty strong digestion ; but this coarse,
this indecorous phrase, was almost too much for her. For a
gentleman sitting alone with a lady to — although the door was
open — to talk about a naked eye !

A long interval elapsed before even she, woman of mascu-
line and towering intellect though she was, could call up forti-
tude enough to resume the conversation. But Mrs. Hominy
was a traveller. Mrs. Hominy was a writer of reviews and
analytical disquisitions. Mrs. Hominy had had her letters
from abroad, beginning "My ever dearest blank," and signed
" The Mother of the Modern Gracchi " (meaning the married
Miss Hominy), regularly printed in a public journal, with all
the indignation in capitals, and all the sarcasm in italics Mrs.

374 ■ ^'^lARTIX CIIUZZLEWIT.

Homiry had looked on foreign countries with the eye of a
perfect republican hot from the model oven ; and Mrs. Hom-
iny could talk (or write) about them by the hour together.
So Mrs. Hominy at last came down on Martin heavily, and as
he was fast asleep she had it all her own way, and bruised him
to her heart's content.

It is no great matter what Mrs. Hominy said, save she had
learnt it from the cant of a class, and a large class, of her
fellow-countrymen, who, in their every word, avow themselves
to be as senseless to the high principles on which America
sprang, a nation, into life, as any Orson in her legislative halls.
Who are no more capable of feeling, or caring if they did feel,
that by reducing their own country to the ebb of honest men's
contempt, they put in hazard the rights of nations yet unborn,
and very progress of human race, than are the swine that
wallow in their streets. Who think that crying out to other
nations, old in their iniquity, " We are no worse than you ! "
(No worse !) 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 sense,
that her best friends turn from the loathsome creature with
disgust. Who, having by their ancestors declared and won
their Independence, because they 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 Temples also are of glass, and stones which batter theirs
may be flung back ; show themselves in that alone, as im-
measurably 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 endow-
ments to such an extent that the Major's bitterest enemy,
hearing her, would have forgiven him from the bottom of his
heart. Martin .night have done something desperate if the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. -y^

gong had not sounded for supper ; but sound it did most op-
portunely ; and having stationed Mrs. Hominy at the upper
end of the table, he took refuge at the lower end himself ;
whence, after a hasty meal, he stole away, while the lady was
yet busied with dried beef and a saucer-full of pickled fixings.

It would be difficult to give an adequate idea of Mrs.
Hominy's freshness next clay, or of the avidity with which
she went headlong into moral philosophy at breakfast. Some
little additional degree of asperity, perhaps, was visible in her
features, but not more than the pickles would have naturally
produced. All that day she clung to Martin; She sat beside
him while he received his friends (for there was another Re-
ception, yet more numerous than the former) propounded
theories, and ajiswered imaginary objections, so that Martin
really began to think he must be dreaming, and speaking for
two ; she quoted interminable passages from certain essays on
government, written by herself ; used the Major's pocket-hand-
kerchief as if the snuffle were a temporary malady, of which
she was determined to rid herself by some means or other ;
and in short, was such a remarkable companion, that Martin
quite settled it between himself and his conscience, that in
any new settlement it would be absolutely necessaiy to ha\ e
such a person knocked on the head for the general peace of
society.

In the meantime Mark was busy, from early in the morn-
ing until late at night, in getting on board the steamboat such
provisions, tools, and other necessaries, as they had been
forewarned it would be wise to take. The purchase of these
things, and the settlement of their bill at the National, re-
duced their finances to sc low an ebb, that if the captain had
delayed his departure -"my longer, they would have been in
almost as bad a pligh. as the unfortunate poorer emigrants,
who (seduced on board by solemn advertisement) had been
living on the lower deck a whole week, and exhausted thtir
miserable stock of provisions before the voyage commenced.
There they were, .all huddled together, with the engine and
fires. Farmers who had never seen a plough ; woodmen who
had never used an axe ; builders who couldn't make a box :
cast out of their own land, with not a hnnd to aid them : newly
come into an, unknown world, children in helplessness, but
men in wants, with younger children at their backs, to li\e or
die as it might happen !

The morning came, and they would start at noon. Noon

376 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

came, and they would start at night. But nothing is eternal
in this world, not even the procrastination of an American
skipper : and at night all was ready.

Dispirited and weary to the last degree, but a greater lion
than ever (he had done nothing all the afternoon but answer
letters from strangers ; half of them about nothing, half about
borrowing money, and all requiring an instantaneous reply),
Martin walked down the wharf, through a concourse of people
with Mrs. Hominy upon his arm ; and went on board. But
Mark was bent on solving the riddle of this lionship, if he
could ; and so, not without the risk of being left behind ran
back to the hotel.

Captain Kedgick was sitting in the colonnade, with a julep
on his knee, and a cigar in his mouth. He caught Mark's
eye, and said :

"Why, what the 'Tarnal brings you here ? "

" I'll tell you plainly what it is. Captain," said Mark, " I
want to ask you a question."

" A man may (7J'^ a question so he may," returned Kedgick,
strongly implying that another man might not answer a ques-
tion, so he mightn't.

" What have they been making so much of him for, now ? "
said Mark, slyly. " Come ! "

" Our people like ex-citement," answered Kedgick, sucking
his cigar.

" But how has he excited 'em ? " asked Mark.

The captain looked at him as if he were half inclined to
unburden his mind of a capital joke.

" You air a going ? " he said.

" Going ! " cried Mark. " Ain't ever}- moment precious ? "

" Our people like ex-citement," said the captain, whisper-
ing. " He ain't like emigrants in gin'ral ; and he excited 'em
along of this ; " he winked and burst into a smothered laugh ;
" along of this. Scadder is a smart man, and — and — nobody
as goes to Eden ever comes back a-live ! '•'

The wharf was close at hand, and at that instant Mark
could hear them shouting out his name ; could even hear
Martin calling to him to make haste, or they would be sepa-
rated. It was too late to mend the matter, or put any face
upon it but the best. He gave the Captain a parting benedic-
tion, and ran of! like a race-horse.

"Mark! Mark !" cried Martin.

'^ Here am I, sir ! " shouted Mark, suddenly replying from

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2>n

the edge of the quay, and leapins; at a bound on board.
"Never was half so jolly, sir. All right. Haul in! do
a-head ! "

The sparks from the wood fire streamed upward from the
two chimneys as if the vessel were a great firework just lighted ;
and they roared away upon the dark water.

CHAPTER XXni.

MARTIN AND HIS^ PARTNER TAKE POSSESSION OF THEIR ESTATE.
THE JOYFUL OCCASION INVOLVES SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT
OF EDEN.

There happened to be on board the steamboat several
gentlemen passengers, of the same stamp as Martin's New
York friend Mr. Eevan ; and in their society he was cheerful
and hapjjy. They released him as well as they could from
the intellectual entanglements of Mrs. Hominy ; and exhibit-
ed, in all they said and did, so much good sense and high
feeling, that he could not like them too well. " If this were
a republic of Intellect and Worth," he said, " instead of vapor-
ing and jobbing, they would not want the levers to keep it in
motion."

" Having good tools, and using bad ones," returned Mr.
Tapley, " would look as if they was rather a poor sort of car-
penters, sir, wouldn't it ? "

Martin nodded. " As if their work were infinitely above
their powers and purpose, Mark ; and they botched it in
consequence."

" The best on it is," said Mark, " that when they do hap-
pen to make a decent stroke, such as a better workmen, with
no such opportunities, make every day of their lives and think
nothing of, they begin to sing out so surprising loud. Take
notice of my words, sir. If ever the defaulting part of this
here country pays its debts — along of finding that not paying
'em won't do in a commercial point of \iew. vou see, and is
inconvenient in its consequences — they'll take such a shine
out of it, and make such bragging speeches, that a man might
suppose no borrowed money had ever been paid afore, since

378 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

the world was first begun. That's the way they gammon each
other, sir. Bless you, / know 'em. Take notice of my words,
now ! "

" You seem to be growing profoundly sagacious ! " cried
Martin, laughing.

"Whether that is," thought Mark, "because I'm a day's
journey nearer Eden, and am brightening up, afore I die, I
can't say. P'rhaps by the time I get there, I shall have growed
into a prophet."

He gave no utterance to these sentiments ; but the exces-
sive joviality they inspired within him, and the merriment
they brought upon his shining face, were quite enough for Mar-
tin. Although he might sometimes profess to make light of his
partner's inexhaustible cheerfulness, and might sometimes, as
in the case of Zephaniah Scadder, find him too jocose a com-
mentator, he was always sensible of the effect of his example in
rousing him to hopefulness and courage. Whether he were in
the humor to profit by it, mattered not a jot. It was conta-
gious, and he could not choose but be affected.

At first they parted with some of their passengers once or
twice a day, and took in others to replace them. But by
degrees, the towns upon their routs became more thinly scat-
tered ; and for many hours together they would see no other
habitations than the huts of the wood-cutters, where the vessel
stopped for fuel. Sky, wood, and water, all the livelong day ;
and heat that blistered everything it touched.

On they toiled through great solitudes, where the trees
upon the banks grew thick and close ; and floated in the
stream • and held up shrivelled arms from out the river's
depths ; and slid down from the margin of the land, half
growing, half decaying, in the miry water. On through the
wear)' day and melancholy night ; beneath the burning sun,
and in the mist and vapor of the evening ; on, until return
appeared impossible, and restoration to their home a misera-
ble dream.

They had now but few people on board, and these few
were as flat, as dull, and stagnant, as the vegetation that
oppressed their eyes. No sound of cheerfulness or hope was
heard ; no pleasant talk beguiled the tardy time ; no little
group made common cause against the dull depression of the
scene. But that, at certain periods, they swallowed food
together from a common trough, it might have been old
Charon's boat, conveying melancholy shades to judgment.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

379

At length they drew near New Thermopyloe ; where, that
same evening, Mrs. Hominy would disembark. A gleam of
comfort sunk into Martin's bosom when she told him this.
Mark needed none ; but he was not displeased.

It was almost night when they came alongside the landing-
place. A steep bank with an hotel, like a barn, on the top of
it ; a wooden store or two ; and a few scattered sheds.

" You sleep here to-night, and go on in the morning, I
suppose, ma'am t " said Martin.

" Where should I go on to ? " cried the mother of the
modern Gracchi.

" To New Thermopylae."

"My! ain't I there?" said Mrs. Hominy.

Martin looked for it all round the darkening panorama ;
but he couldn't see it, and was obliged to say so.

" Why that's it ! " cried Mrs. Hominy, pointing to the sheds
just mentioned.

" That r' exclaimed Martin.

" Ah ! that ; and work it which way you will, it whips
Eden," said Mrs. Hominy, nodding her head with great
expression.

The married Miss Hominy, who had come on board with
her husband, gave to this statement her most unqualified sup-
port, as did that gentleman also. Martin gratefully declined
their invitation to regale himself at their house during the half
hour of the vessel's stay ; and having escorted Mrs. Hominy
and the red pocket-handkerchief (which was still on active
service) safely across the gangway, returned in a thoughtful
mood to watch the emigrants as they removed their goods
ashore.

Mark, as he stood beside him, glanced in his face from time
to time, anxious to discover what effect this dialogue had had
upon him, and not unwilling that his hopes should be dashed
before they reached their destination, so that the blow he
feared, might be broken in its fall. But saving that he some-
times looked up quickly at the poor erections on the hill, he
gave him no clue to what was passing in his mind, until they
were again upon their way.

"Mark," he said then, "are there really none but our-
selves on board this boat who are bound for Eden ? "

" None at all, sir. Most of 'em, as you know, have
stopped short ; and the few that are left are going further
on. What matters that ! More room there for us, siv."

38o

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

" Oh to be sure ! " said Martin. " But I was thinking "—
and there he paused.

" Yes, sir ! " observed Mark.

" How odd it was that the people should have arranged to
try their fortune at a wretched hole like that, for instance,
when there is such a nuich better, and such a very different
kind of place, near at hand, as one may say."

He spoke in a tone so very different from his usual con-
fidence, and with such an obvious dread of Mark's reply, that
the good-natured fellow was full of pity.

" Why, you know, sir," said Mark, as gently as he could
by any means insinuate the observation, " we must guard
against being too sanguine. There's no occasion for it, either,
because we're determined to make the best of everything,
after we know the worst of it. Ain't we, sir.? "

Martin looked at him, but answered not a word.

"Even Eden, you know, ain't all built," said Mark.

"In the name of Heaven, man," cried Martin angrily,
"don't talk of Eden in the same breath with that place. Are
you mad .'' There — God forgive me ! — don't think harshly of
me for my temper ! " '

After that, he turned away, and walked to and fro upon
the deck full two hours. Nor did he speak again, except to
say, " Good-night," until next day ; nor even then upon this
subject, but on other topics quite foreign to the purpose.

As they proceeded further on their track, and came more
and more towards their journey's end, the monotonous desola-
tion of the scene increased to that degree, that for any redeem
ing feature it presented to their eyes, they might have entered,
in the body, on the grim domains of Giant Despair. A fiaf
morass, bestrewn with fallen timber ; a marsh on which the
good growth of the earth seemed to have been wrecked and
cast away, that from its decomposing ashes vile and ugly
things might rise ; where the very trees took the aspect of
huge weeds, begotten of the slime from which they sprung, by
the hot sun that burnt them up ; where fatal maladies, seek-
ing whom they might infect, came forth at night, in misty
shapes, and creeping out upon the water, hunted them like
spectres until day ; where even the blessed sun shining down
on festering elements of corruption and disease, became a
horror ; this was the realm of Hope through which they
moved.

At last they stopped. At Eden too. The waters of the

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

381

Deluge might have left it but a week before, so choked
with slime and matted growth was the hideous swamp which
bore that name.

There being no depth of water close in shore, they landed
from the vessel's boat, with all their goods beside them.
There were a few log-houses visible among the dark trees — the
best, a cow-shed or a rude stable. But for the wharves, the
market-place, the public buildings !

" Here comes an Edener," said Mark. " He'll get us
help to carry these things up. Keep a good heart, sir. Hallo
there ! "

The man advanced toward them through the thickening
gloom, very slowly, leaning on a stick. As he drew nearer,
they observed that he was pale and worn, and that his anx-
ious eyes were deeply sunken in his head. His dress of home-
spun blue hung about him in rags ; his feet and head were
bare. He sat down on a stump half-way, and beckoned them
to come to him. When they complied, he put his hand upon
his side as if in pain, and while he fetched his breath stared
at them, wondering.

" Strangers ! " he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak.

" The very same," said Mark. " How are you, sir?"

" I've had the fever verv bad,'' he answered faintlv. " I
haven't stood upright these many wtcks. Those are your
notions 1 see," pointing to their property.

" Yes, sir," said Mark, " they are. You couldn't recom-
mend us some one as would lend a hand to help carry "em up
to the — to the town, could you, sir } "

" My eldest son would do it if he could," replied the man ;
"but to-day he has his chill upon hmi, and is lying wrapped
up in the blankets. My youngest died last week."

" I'm sorry for it, governor, with all my heart," said Mark,
shaking him by the hand. " Don't mind us. Come along
with me, and I'll give you an arm back. The goods is safe
enough, sir," to Martin ; " there ain't many people about, to
make away with 'em. What a comfort that is ! "

" No," cried the man. " You must look for such folk
here," knocking his stick upon the ground, " or yonder in the
bush, towards the north. We've buried most of 'em. The
rest have gone away. Them that we have here, don't come
out at night."

" The night air ain't quite wholesome, 1 suppose," said
Mark.

382 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" It's deadly poison," was the settler's answer.

Mark showed no more uneasiness than if it had been com-
mended to him as ambrosia ; but he gave the man his arm,
and as they went along explained to him the nature of their
purchase, and inquired where it lay. Close to his own log-
house, he said ; so close that he had used their dwelling as a
store-house for some corn ; they must excuse it that night, but
he would endeavor to get it taken out upon the morrow. He
then gave them to understand, as an additional scrap of local
chit-chat, that he had buried the last proprietor with his own
hands ; a piece of information which Mark also received with-
out the least abatement of his equanimity.

In a word, he conducted them to a miserable cabin, rudely
constructed of the trunks of trees, the door of which had
either fallen down or been carried away long ago, and which
was consequently open to the wild landscape and the dark
night. Saving for the little store he had mentioned, it was
perfectly bare of all furniture ; but they had left a chest upon
the landing-place, and he gave them a rude torch in lieu of
candle. This latter acquisition Mark planted in the earth,
and then declaring that the mansion " looked quite comfort-
able," hurried Martin off again to help bring up the chest.
And all the way to the landing-place and back, Mark talked
incessantly, as if he would infuse into his partner's breast
some faint belief that they had arrived under the most auspi-
cious and cheerful of all imaginable circumstances.

But many a man who would have stood within a home
dismantled, strong in his passion and design of vengeance,
has had the firmness of his nature conquered by the razing of
an air-built castle. When the log-hut received them for the
second time, Martin lay down upon the ground, and wept
aloud.

" Lord love you, sir ! " cried Mr. Tapley, in great terror ;
" Don't do that ! Don't do that, sir ! Anything but that ! It
never helped man, woman, or child, over the lowest fence yet,
sir, and it never will. Besides its being of no use to you, it's
worse than of no use to me, for the least sound of it will knock
me flat down. I can't stand up agin it, sir. Anything but
that ! "

There is no doubt he spoke the truth, for the extraordi-
nary alarm with which he looked at Martin as he paused upon
his knees before the chest, in the act of unlocking it, to say
these words, sufficiently confirmed him.

MARTnV CHUZZLEWIT. 383

" I ask your forgiveness a thousand times, my dear fellow,"
said Martin. " I couldn't have helped it, if death had been
the penalty."

" Ask my forgiveness ! " said Mark, with his accustomed
cheerfulness, as he proceeded to unpack the chest. " The
head partner a asking forgiveness of Co., eh ? There must be
something wrong in the firm when that happens. I must ha\e
the books inspected, and the accounts gone over immediate.
Here we are. Everything in its proper place. Here's the
salt pork. Here's the biscuit. Here's the whiskey. Uncom-
mon good it smells too. Here's the tin pot. This tin pot's a
small fortun' in itself ! Here's the blankets. Here's the axe.
Who says we aui't got a first-rate fit out ? I feel as if I was
a cadet gone out to Indy, and my noble father was chairman
of the Board of Directors. Now, when I've got some water
from the stream afore the door and mixed the grog," cried
Mark, running out to suit the action to the word, " there's a
supper ready, comprising ever}^ delicacy of the season. Here
we are, sir, all complete. For what we are going to receive,
et cetrer. T^ord bless you, sir, it's very like a gipsy party ! "

It was impossible not to take heart, in the company of such
a man as this. Martin sat upon the ground beside the box,
took out his knife, and ate and drank sturdily.

"Now you see," said Mark, when they had made a hearty
meal, "with your knife and mine. I sticks this blanket right
afore tlie door, or where, in a stale of higli civilization, the
door would be. And very neat it looks. Then I stops the
aperture below, by putting the chest agin it. And very neat
that looks. Then there's your blanket, sir. I'hen here's
mine. And what's to hinder our passing a good night ? "

For all his light-hearted speaking, it was long before he
slept himself. He wrapped his blanket round him, put the
axe ready to his hand, and lay across the threshold of the
door, too anxious and too watchful to close his eyes. The
noveltv of their drearv situation, the dread of some rapacious
animal or human enemy, the terrible uncertainty of their means
of subsistence, the apprehension of death, the immense dis-
tance and the hosts of obstacles between themsehes and
England, were fruitful sources of disquiet in the deep silence
of the night. Though Martin would have had him think
otherwise, Mark felt that he was waking also, and a prey to
the same reflections. 'I'his was almost worse than all, for if
he began to brood over their miseries instead of trying to

384 MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT.

make head against them, there could be little doubt that such
a state of mind would powerfully assist the influence of the
pestilent climate. Never had the light of day been half so
welcome to his eyes, as when awakening from a fitful doze,
Mark saw it shining through the blanket in the doorway.

He stole out gently, for his companion was sleeping now ;
and having refreshed himself by washing in the river, where it
flowed before the door, took a rough survey of the settlement.
There were not above a score of cabins in the whole ; half of
these appeared untenanted ; all were rotten and decayed.
The most tottering, abject, and forlorn among them, was
called, with great propriety, the Bank, and National Credit
Office. It had some feeble props about it, but was settling
deep down in the mud, past all recovery.

Here and there, an effort had been made to clear the land,
and something like a field had been marked out, where, among
the stumps and ashes of burnt trees, a scanty crop of Indian
corn was growing. In some quarters, a snake or zigzag fence
had been begun, but in no instance had it been completed ;
and the fallen logs, half hidden in the soil, lay mouldering
away. Three or four meagre dogs, wasted and vexed witli
hunger ; some long-legged pigs, wandering away into the
woods in search of food ; some children, nearly naked, gazing
at him from the huts, were all the li\ing things he saw. A
fetid vapor, hot and sickening as the breath of an oven, rose
up from the earth, and hung on everything around ; and as
his foot-prints sunk into the marshy ground, a black ooze
started forth to blot them out.

Their own land was mere forest. The trees had grown
so thick and close that they shouldered one another out of
their places, and the weakest, forced into shapes of strange
distortion, languished like cripples. The best were stunted,
from the pressure and the want of room ; and high about the
stems of all, grew long rank grass, clank weeds, and frowsy
underwood, not devisable into their separate kinds, but
tangled all together in a heap ; a jungle deep and dark, witli
neither earth nor water at its roots, but putrid matter, formed
of the pulpy offal of the two, and of their own corruption.

He went down to the landing-place where they had left
their goods last night, and there he found some half-dozen
men — wan and forlorn to look at, but ready enough to assist
— who helped him to carry them to the log-house. Theyshook
their heads in speaking of the settlement, and had no comfort

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

385

to give him. Those who had the means of going away, had
all deserted it. They who were left, had lost their wives, their
children, friends, or brothers there, and suffered much them-
selves. Most of them were ill then ; none were the men they
had been once. They frankly offered their assistance and
advice, and, leaving him for that time, went sadly off upon their
several tasks.

Martin was by this time stirring ; but he had greatly
changed, even in one night. He was ver}^ pale and languid ;
he spoke of pains and weakness in his limbs, and complained
that his sight was dim, and his voice feeble. Increasing in
his own briskness as the prospect grew more and more dismal,
Mark brought away a door from one of the deserted houses,
and fitted it to their own habitation ; then went back again
for a rude bench he had observed, with which he presently
returned in triumph ; and having put this piece of furniture
outside the house, arranged the notable tin-pot and other such
movables upon it, that it might represent a dresser or a side-
board. Greatly satisfied with this arrangement, he next rolled
their cask of flour into the house, and set it up on end in one
corner, where it served for a side table. No better dining-
table could be required than the chest, which he solemnly
devoted to that useful service thenceforth. Their blankets,
clothes, and the Jike, he hung on pegs and nails. And lastly,
he brought forth a great placard (which Martin in the exulta-
tion of his heart had prepared with his own hands at the
National Hotel), bearing the inscription, Chuzzlewit & Co.,
Architects and Surveyors, which he displayed upon the
most conspicuous part of the premises, with as much gravity
as if the thriving city of Eden had a real existence, and they
expected to be overwhelmed with business.

"These here tools," said Mark, bringing forward Martin's
case of instruments and sticking the compasses upright in a
stump before the door, " shall be set out in the open air to
show that we come provided. And now, if any gentleman
wants a house built, he'd better give his orders, afore we're
other ways bespoke."

Considering the intense heat of the weather, this was not
a bad morning's work ; but without pausing for a moment,
though he was streaming at e\ery pore, Mark vanished into
the house again, and presently reappeared with a hatchet,
intent on performing some impossibilities with that implement.

" Here's a ugly old tree in the way, sir," he observed,

2!;

386 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" which'll be all the better down. We can build the oven in
the afternoon. There never was such a handy spot for clay
as Eden is. That's convenient, anyhow."

But Martin gave him no answer. He had sat the whole
time with his head upon his hands, gazing at the current as it
rolled swiftly by ; thinking, perhaps, how fast it moved towards
the open sea, the high road to the home he never would be-
hold again.

Not even the vigorous strokes which Mark dealt at the
tree, awoke him from his mournful meditation. Finding all
his endeavors to rouse him of no use, Mark stopped in his work
and came towards him.

" Don't give in, sir," said Mr. Tapley.

" Oh, Mark," returned his friend, " What have I done in
all my life that has deserved this heavy fate ? "

" Why, sir," returned Mark, "for the matter of that, ev'ry-
body as is here might say the same thing ; many of 'em with
better reason p'raps than you or me. Hold up, sir. Do
something. Couldn't you ease your mind, now, don't you
think, by making some personal obserwations in a letter to
Scadder t "

" No," said Martin, shaking his head sorrowfully, " I am
past that."

"But if you're past that already," returned Mark, "you
must be ill, and ought to be attended to."

" Don't mind me," said Martin. " Do the best you can
for yourself. You'll soon have only yourself to consider,
And then God speed you home, and forgive me for bringing
you here ! I am destined to die in this place. I felt it the
instant I set foot upon the shore. Sleeping or waking, Mark,
I dreamed it all last night."

" I said you must be ill," returned Mark, tenderly, " and
now I'm sure of it. A touch of fever and ague caught on these
rivers, I daresay ; but bless you, ^//afs nothing. It's only a
seasoning ; and we must all be seasoned, one way or another.
That's religion, that is, you know," said Mark.

He only sighed and shook his head.

" Wait half a minute," said Mark cheerily, " till I run up
to one of our neighbors and ask what's best to be took, and
borrow a little of it to give you ; and to-morrow you'll find
yourself as strong as ever again. I won't be gone a minute.
Don't give in, while I'm away, whatever you do ! "

Throwing down his hatchet, he sped away immediately,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 387

but stopped when he had got a Httle distance, and looked
back : then hurried on again.

"Now, Mr. Tapley," said Mark, giving himself a tremen-
dous blow in the chest by way of reviver, " just you attend to
what I've got to say. Things is looking about as bad as they
can look, young man. You'll not have such another oppor-
tunity for showing your jolly disposition, my fine fellow, as
long as you live. And therefore, Tapley Now's your time to
come out strong ; or Never 1 "

CHAPTER XXIV.

■REPORTS PROGRESS IN CERTAIN HOMELY MATTERS OF LOVE,
HATRED, JEALOUSY, AND REVENGE.

Hallo, Pecksniff ! " cried Mr. Jonas from the parlor.
" Isn't somebody agoing to open that precious old door of
yours? "

" Immediately, Mr. Jonas. Immediately."

"Ecod," muttered the orphan, "not before it's time
neither. Whoever it is, has knocked three times, and each
one loud enough to wake the — " he had such a repugnance to
the idea of waking the Dead, that he stopped even then with
the words upon his tongue, and said, instead, " the Seven
Sleepers."

" Immediately, Mr. Jonas ; immediately," repeated Peck-
sniff. " Thomas Pinch " — he couldn't make up his mind, in
in his great agitation whether to call Tom his dear friend or a
villain, so he shook his fist at him pro tern. — " go up to my
daughters' room, and tell them who is here. Say, Silence.
Silence ! Do you hear me, sir ? "

" Directly, sir ! " cried Tom, departing, in a state of much
amazement, on his errand.

"You'll — ha ha ha! — you'll excuse me, Mr. Jonas, if I
close this door a moment, will you .^ " said Pecksniflf. " This
may be a professional call. Indeed I am pretty sure it is.
Thank you." Then Mr. Pecksniff, gently warbling a rustic
Stave, put on his garden hat, seized a spade, and opened the

388 ^^AJ? TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

street door, calmly appearing on the threshold, as if he thought
he had, from his vineyard, heard a modest rap, but was not
quite certain.

Seeing a gentleman and. lady before him, he started back
in as much confusion as a good man with a crystal conscience
might betray in mere surprise. Recognition came upon him
the next moment, and he cried :

" Mr. Chuzzlewit ! Can I believe my eyes ! My dear
sir ; my good sir ! A jo^iul hour, a happy hour indeed. Pray,
my dear sir, walk in. You find me in my garden-dress. You
will excuse it, I know. It is an ancient pursuit, gardening.
Primitive, my dear sir ; for, if I am not mistaken, Adam was the
first of our calling. My Eve, I grieve to say, is no more, sir ;
but " — here he pointed to his spade, and shook his head, as if
he were not cheerful without an effort — " but I do a little bit
of Adam still."

He had by this time got them into the best parlor, where
the portrait by Spiller, and the bust by Spoker were.

" My daughters," said Mr. Pecksniff, " will be overjoyed.
If I could feel weary upon such a theme, I should have been
worn out long ago, my dear sir, by their constant anticipation
of this happiness, and their repeated allusions to our meeting
at Mrs. Todgers's. Their fair young friend, too," said Mr.
Pecksniff, " whom they so desire to know and love — indeed to
know her, is to love — I hope I see her well. I hope in saying,
' Welcome to my humble roof ! ' I find some echo in her own
sentiments. If features are an index to the heart, I have no
fears of that. An extremely engaging expression of coun-
tenance, Mr. Chuzzlewit, my dear sir ; very much so ! "

" Mary," said the old man, " Mr. Pecksniff flatters you.
But flattery from him is worth the having. He is not a
dealer in it, and it comes from his heart. We thought
Mr. "

"Pinch," said Mary.

" Mr. Pinch would have arrived before us, Pecksniff."

" He did arrive before you, my dear sir," retorted Peck-
sniff,-raising his voice for the edification of Tom upon the
stairs, "and was about, I dare say, to tell me of your coming,
when I begged him first to knock at my daughters' chamber,
and inquire after Charity, my dear child, who is not so well
as I could wish. No," said Mr. Pecksniff, answering their
looks. " I am sorry to say, she is not. It is merely an hyster-
ical affection ; nothing more. I am not uneasy. Mr. Pinch !

MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. 389

Thomas ! " exclaimed Pecksniff, in his kindest accents. " Pray
come in. I shall make no stranger of you. Thomas is a
friend of mine, of rather long-standing, \\x. Chuzzlewit, you
must know."

" Thank you, sir," said Tom. " You introduce me- very
kindly, and speak of me in terms of which I am veiy proud."

" Old Thomas ! " cried his master, pleasantly. " God
bless you ! "

Tom reported that the young ladies would appear directly,
and that the best refreshments which the house afforded were
even then in preparation, under their joint superintendence.
While he was speaking, the old man looked at him intently,
though with less harshness than was common to him ; nor
did the mutual embarrassment of Tom and the }'oung lady, to
whatever cause he attributed it, seem to escape his observa-
tion.

" Pecksniff," he said after a pause, rising and taking him
aside towards the window, " I was much shocked on hearing
of my brother's death. We had been strangers for many
years. My only comfort is, that he must have lived the hap-
pier and better man for having associated no hopes or schemes
with me. Peace to his memory ! We were playfellows once ;
and it would have been better for us both if we had died
then."

Finding him in this gentle mood, Mr. Pecksniff began to
see another way out of his diihculties, besides the casting
overboard of Jonas.

" That any man, my dear sir, could possibly be the happier
for not knowing you," he returned, "you will excuse my
doubting. But that Mr. Anthony, in the evening of his life,
was happier in the affection of liis excellent son — a pattern,
my dear sir, a pattern to all sons — and in the care of a distant
relation, who, however lowly in his means of serving him, had
no bounds to his inclination : /can inform you."

"How's this?" said the old man. "You are not a
legatee } "

" You don't," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a melancholy pres-
sure of his hand, " quite understand my nature yet, 1 find.
No, sir, I am not a legatee. 1 am proud to say I am not a
legatee. I am proud to say that neither of my children is a
legatee. And yet, sir, I was with him at his own request. Hi
understood me somewhat better, sir. He wrote and said, ' I
am sick. I am sinking. Come to me ! ' I went to him. I

3go MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

sat beside his bed, sir, and I stood beside his grave. Yes, at
the risk of offending even yoti, I did it, sir. Tliough the
avowal should lead to our instant separation, and to the sever-
ing of those tender ties between us which have recently been
formed, I make it. But I am not a legatee," said Mr. Peck-
sniff, smiling dispassionately ; " and I never expected to be a
legatee. I knew better ! "

" His son a pattern ! " cried old Martin. " How can you
tell me that ? My brother had in his wealth the usual doom
of wealth, and root of misery. He carried his corrupting in-
fluence with him, go where he would ; and shed it round him,
even on his hearth. It made of his own child a greedy ex-
pectant, who measured every day and hour the lessening dis-
tance between his father and the grave, and cursed his tardy
progress on that dismal road."

" No ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, boldly. " Not at all, sir ! "

" But I saw that shadow in his house," said Martin Chuz-
zlewit, " the last time we met, and warned him of its presence.
I know it when I see it, do I not .'' I, who have lived within
it all these years ! "

" I deny it," Mr. Pecksniff answered, warmly. " I deny it
altogether. That bereaved young man is now in this house,
sir, seeking in change of scene the peace of mind he has lost.
Shall I be backward in doing justice to that young man, when
even undertakers and coffin-makers have been moved by the
conduct he has exhibited ; when even mutes have spoken in
his praise, and the medical man hasn't known what to do with
himself in the excitement of his feelings ! There is a person
of the name of Gamp, sir — Mrs. Gamp — ask her. She saw
Mr. Jonas in a trying time. Ask her, sir. She is respectable,
but not sentimental, and will state the fact. A line addressed
to Mrs. Gamp, at the Bird-shop, Kingsgate Street, High Hol-
born, London, will meet with every attention, I have no doubt.
Let her be examined, my good sir. Strike, but hear ! Leap,
Mr. Chuzzlewit, but look ! Forgive me, my dear sir," said
Mr. Pecksniff, taking both his hands, " if I am warm ; but I
am honest, and must state the truth."

In proof of the character he gave himself, Mr. Pecksniff
suffered tears of honesty to ooze out of his eyes.

The old man gazed at him for a moment with a look of
wonder, repeating to himself, " Here now ! In this house ! "
But he mastered his surprise, and said, after a pause :

" Let me see him."

^

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

391

In a friendly spirit, I hope ? " said Mr. Pecksniff.
" Forgive me, sir, but he is in the receipt of my liumble hos-
pitahty."

" I said," repHed the old man, " let me see him. If I
were disposed to regard him in any other than a friendly
spirit, I should have said, keep us apart."

" Certainly, my dear sir. So you would. You are frank-
ness itself, I know. I will break this happiness to him," said
Mr. Pecksniff, as he left the room, " if you will excuse me for
a minute, gently."

He paved the way to the disclosure so very gently, that a
quarter of an hour elapsed before he returned with Mr. Jonas.
In the meantime the young ladies had made their appearance,
and the table had been set out for the refreshment of the
travellers.

Now, however well Mr Pecksniff, in his morality, had
taught Jonas the lesson of dutiful behavior to his uncle, and
however perfectly Jonas, in the cunning his nature, had learnt
it, that young man's bearing, when presented to his father's
brother, was anything but manly or engaging. Perhaps, in-
deed, so singular a mixture of defiance and obsequiousness,
of fear and hardihood, of dogged sullenness and an attempt at
cringing and propitiation, never was expressed in any one
human figure as in that of Jonas, when, having raised his
downcast eyes to Martin's face, he let them fall again, and
uneasily closing and unclosing his hands without a moment's
intermission, stood swinging himself from side to side, waiting
to be addressed.

" Nephew," said the old man. " You have been a dutiful
son, I hear."

" As dutiful as sons in general, I suppose," returned
Jonas, looking up and down once more. " I don't brag to
have been any better than other sons ; but I haven't been any
worse I dare say."

"A pattern to all sons, I am told," said the old man,
glancing towards Mr. Pecksniff.

" Ecod ! " said Jonas, looking up again for a moment, and
shaking his head, " I've been as good a son as ever you were
a brother. It's the pot and the kettle, if you come to that."

" You speak bitterly, in the violence of your regret," said
Martin, after a pause. " Give me your hand."

Jonas did so, and was almost at his ease. " Pecksniff,"
he whispered, as they drew their chairs about the table : *'I

392

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

gave him as good as he brought, eh ? He had better look at
home, before he looks out of window, I think ? "

Mr. Pecksniff only answered by a nudge of the elbow,
which might either be construed into an indignant remon-
strance or a cordial assent ; but which, in any case, was an
emphatic admonition to his chosen son-in-law to be silent.
He then proceeded to do the honors of the house with his ac-
customed ease and amiability.

But not even Mr. Pecksniff's guileless merriment could
set such a party at their ease, or reconcile materials so utterly
discordant and conflicting as those with which he had to deal.
The unspeakable jealousy and hatred which that night's ex-
planation had sown in Charity's breast, was not to be so
easily kept down ; and more than once it showed itself in
such intensity, as seemed to render a full disclosure of all the
circumstances then and there, impossible to be avoided. The
beauteous Merry, too, with all the glory of her conquest fresh
upon her, so j^robed and lanced the rankling disappointment
of her sister by her capricious airs, and thousand little trials
of Mr. Jonas's obedience, that she almost goaded her into a
fit of madness, and obliged her to retire from table in a burst
of passion, hardly less vehement than that to which she had
abandoned herself in the first tumult of her wrath. The con-
straint imposed upon the family by the presence among them
for the first time of Mary Graham (for by that name old Mar-
tin Chuzzlewit had introduced her) did not at all improve this
state of things ; gentle and quiet though her manner was.
Mr. Pecksniff's situation was peculiarly tr}ang ; for, what with
having constantly to keep the peace between his daughters ;
to maintain a reasonable show of affection and unity in his
household ; to curb the growing ease and gaiety of Jonas,
which vented itself in sundry insolences towards Mr. Pinch,
and an indefinable coarseness of manner in reference to Mary
(they being the two dependants) ; to make no mention at all
of his having perpetually to conciliate his rich old relative,
and to smooth down, or explain away, some of the ten thou-
sand bad appearances and combinations of bad appearances-,
by which they were surrounded on that unlucky evening — ■
what with having to do this, and it would be difficult to sum
up how much more, without the least relief or assistance from
anybody, it may be easily imagined that Mr. Pecksniff had in
his enjoyment something more than that usual portion of alloy
which is mixed up with the best of men's delights. Perhaps

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

393

he had never in his life felt such relief as when old Martin,
looking at his watch, announced that it was time to go.

"We have rooms," he said, "at the Dragon, for (he pres-
ent. 1 have a fancy for the evening walk. The nights are
dark just now : perhaps Mr. Pinch would not object to light
us home ? "

" My dear sir ! " cried Pecksniff, " / shall be delighted.
Merry, my child, the lantern."

"The lantern, if you please, my dear," said Martin ; " but
I couldn't think of taking your father out of doors to-night ;
and, to be brief, I won't."

Mr. Pecksniff already had his hat in his hand, but it was
so emphatically said that he paused.

"I take Mr.- Pinch, or go alone," said Martin. "Which
shall it be ? '

"It shall be Thomas, sir," cried Pecksniff, " since you are
so resolute upon it. Thomas, my friend, be very careful, if
you please."

Tom was in some need of this injunction, for he felt so
nervous, and trembled to such a degree, that he found it diffi-
cult to hold the lantern. How much more difficult when, at
the old man's bidding, she drew her hand through his, Tom
Pinch's, arm !

" And so, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, on the way, " you are
veiy comfortably situated here ; are you ? "

Tom answered, with even more than his usual enthusiasm,
that he was under obligations to Mr. Pecksniff which the de-
votion of a lifetime would but imperfectly repay.

" How long have you known my nephew ? " asked Martin.

" Your nephew, sir ! " faltered Tom.

"Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit," said Mary.

" Oh dear, yes," cried Tom, greatly relieved, for his mind
was running upon Martin. " Certainly. 1 never spoke to him
before to-night, sir ! "

" Perhaps half a lifetime will suffice for the acknowledgment
of his kindness," observed the old man.

Tom felt that this was a rebuff for him, and could nofbut
understand it as a left-handed hit at his employer. So he was
silent. Mary felt that Mr. Pinch was not remarkable for
presence of mind, and that he could not say too little under
existing circumstances. So she was silent. The old man dis-
gusted by what in his suspicious nature he considered a shame-
less and fulsome puff of Mr. Pecksniff, which was a part of

394

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Tom's hired service and in which he was determined to perse-
vere, set him down at once for a deceitful, servile, miserable,
fawner. So he was silent. And though they were all suffi-
ciently uncomfortable, it is fair to say that Martin was per-
haps the most so ; for he had felt kindly towards Tom at first,
and had been interested by his seeming simplicity.

" You're like the rest," he thought, glancing at the face of
the unconscious Tom. " You had nearly imposed upon me,
but you have lost your labor. You are too zealous a toad-eater,
and betray yourself, Mr. Pinch."

During the whole remainder of the walk, not another word
was spoken. First among the meetings to which Tom had
long looked forward with a beating heart, it was memorable
for nothing but embarrassment and confusion. They parted
at the Dragon door ; and sighing as he extinguished the candle
in the lantern, Tom turned back again over the gloomy fields.

As he approached the first stile, which was in a lonely
part, made very dark by a plantation of young firs, a man
slipped past him and went on before. Coming to the stile he
stopped, and took his seat upon it. Tom was rather startled,
and for a moment stood still ; but he stepped forward again
immediately, and went close up to him.

It was Jonas ; swinging his legs to and fro, sucking the
head of a stick, and looking with a sneer at Tom.

" Good gracious me ! " cried Tom, " who would have
thought of its being you ! You followed us, then t "

" What's that to you ?" said Jonas. " Go to the devil ! "

"You are not very civil, I think," remarked Tom.

" Civil enough iox you" retorted Jonas. " Who are you ? "

" One who has as good a right to common consideration
as another," said Tom, mildly.

" You're a liar," said Jonas. " You haven't a right to any
consideration. You haven't a right to anything. You're a
pretty sort of fellow to talk about your rights, upon my soul !
Ha, ha ! Rights, too ! "

." If you proceed in this way," returned Tom, reddening,
" yoii will oblige me to talk about my wrongs. But I hope
your joke is over."

" It's the way with you curs," said Mr. Jonas, " that when
you know a man's in real earnest, you pretend to think he's
joking, so that you may turn it off. But that won't do with
me. It's too stale. Now just attend to me for a bit, Mr.
Pitch, or Witch, or Stitch, or whatever your name is."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

395

" My name is Pinch," observed Tom. " Have the goodness
to call me by it."

" What ! You mustn't even be called out of your name,
mustn't you ! " cried Jonas. " Pauper 'prentices are looking
up, I think. Ecod, we manage 'em a little better in the
city ! "

" Never mind what you do in the city," said Tom. " What
have you got to say to me ? "

"Just this. Mister Pinch," retorted Jonas, thrusting his
face so close to Tom's that Tom was obliged to retreat a step,
" I advise you to keep your own counsel, and to avoid tittle-
tattle, and not to cut in where you're not wanted. I've heard
something of you, my friend, and your meek ways ; and I
recommend you to forget 'em till I am married to one of Peck-
snifif's gals, and not to curry favor among my relations, but to
leave the coast clear. You know, when curs won't leave the
course clear, they're whipped off ; so this is kind advice. Do
you understand ? Eh ? Damme, who are you," cried Jonas,
with increased contempt, " that you should walk home with
them, unless it was behind 'em, like any other servant out of
livery ? "

" Come ! " cried Tom, " I see that you had better get off
the stile, and let me pursue my way home. Make room for
me, if you please."

" Don't think it ! " said Jonas, spreading out his legs.
" Not till I choose. And I don't choose now. What ! You're
afraid of my making you split upon some of your babbling
just now, are you. Sneak ? "

"I am not afraid of many things, I hope," said Tom;
"and certainly not of anything that you will do. I am not a
tale-bearer, and I despise all meanness. You quite mistake
me. Ah ! " cried Tom, indignantly. " Is this manly from
one in your position to one in mine .'' Please to make room
for me to pass. The less I say, the better."

'' The less you say ! " retorted Jonas, dangling his legs the
more, and taking no heed of this request. " You say very
little, don't you } Ecod, I should like to know what goes on
between you and a vagabond member of my family. There's
very little in that too, I daresay ! "

" I know no vagabond member of your family," cried Tom,
stoutly.

" You do ! " said Jonas.

" I don't," said Tom. " Your uncle's namesake, if you

396

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

mean him, is no vagabond. Any comparison between you and
him " — Tom snapped his fingers at him, for he was rising fast
in wrath — " is immeasurably to your disadvantage."

" Oh indeed ! " sneered Jonas. " And what do you think
of his deary, his beggarly leavings, eh. Mister Pinch ? "

" I don't mean to say another word, or stay here another
instant," replied Tom.

" As I told you before, you're a liar," said Jonas, coolly.
" You'll stay here till I give you leave to go. Now, keep
where you are, will you ? "

He flourished his stick over Tom's head ; but in a moment
it was spinning harmlessly in the air, and Jonas himself lay
sprawling in the ditch. In the momentary struggle for the
stick, Tom had brought it into violent contact with his op-
ponent's forehead ; and the blood welled out profusely from a
deep cut on the temple. Tom was first apprised of this by
seeing that he pressed his handkerchief to the wounded part,
and staggered as he rose, being stunned.

" Are you hurt ? " said Tom. " 1 am very sorr}-. Lean
on me for a moment. You can do that without forgiving me,
if you still bear me malice. But I don't know why ; for I
never offended you before we met on this spot."

He made him no answer, not appearing at first to under-
stand him, or even to know that he was hurt, though he
several times took his handkerchief from the cut to look va-
cantly at the blood upon it. After one of these examinations,
he looked at Tom^ and then tliere was an expression in his
features, which showed that he understood what had taken
place, and would remember it.

Nothing more passed between them as they went home.
Jonas kept a little in advance, and Tom Pinch sadly followed,
thinking of the grief which the knowledge of this quarrel must
occasion his excellent benefactor. When Jonas knocked at the
door, Tom's heart beat high ; higher when Miss Mercy an-
swered it, and seeing her wounded lover, shrieked aloud ;
higher, when he followed them into the family parlor; higher
than at any other time, when Jonas spoke.

■ "Don't make a noise about it," he said. "It's nothing
worth mentioning. I didn't know the road ; the night's very
dark ; and just as I came up with Mr. Pinch " — he turned
his face towards Tom, but not his eyes — " I ran against a tree.
It's only skin deep."

Cold water, Merry, my child ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff.

(' ;

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 397

" Brown paper ! Scissors! A piece of old linen ! Charity,
my clear, make a bandage. Bless me, Mr. Jonas ! "

" Oh, bother jw/r nonsense," returned the gracious son-
in-law elect. " Be of some use if you can. If you can't, get
out ! "

Miss Charity, though called upon to lend her aid, sat up-
right in one corner, with a smile upon her face, and didn't
move a finger. Though Mercy laved the wound herself ; and
Mr. Pecksniff held the patient's head between his two hands,
as if without that assistance it must inevitably come in half ;
and Tom Pinch, in his guilty agitation, shook a bottle of
Dutch Drops until they were nothing but English Froth, and
in his other hand sustained a formidable carving-knife," really
intended to reduce the swelling, but apparently designed for
the ruthless infliction of another wound as soon as that was
dressed ; Charity rendered not the least assistance, nor uttered
a word. But when Mr. Jonas's head was bound up, and he
had gone to bed, and everybody else had retired, and the
house was quiet, Mr. Pinch, as he sat mournfully on his bed-
stead, ruminating, heard a gentle tap at his door ; and open-
ing it, saw her, to his great astonishment, standing before him
with her finger on her lip.

" Mr. Pinch," she whispered. " Dear Mr. Pinch ! Tell
me the truth ! You did that ? There was some quarrel be-
tween you, and you struck him .'' I am sure of it ! "

It was the first time she had ever spoken kindly to Tom,
in all the many years they had passed together. He was
stupefied with amazement.

" Was it so, or not ? " she eagerly demanded.

" I was very much provoked," said Tom.

" Then it was ? " cried Charity, with sparkling eyes.

" Ye-yes. We had a struggle for the path," said Tom.
" But I didn't mean to hurt him so much."

" Not so much ! " she repeated, clenching her hand and
stamping her foot, to Tom's great wonder. " Don't say that.
It was brave of you. I honor you for it. If you should ever
quarrel again, don't spare him for the world, but beat him
down and set your shoe upon him. Not a word of this to
anybody. Dear Mr. Pinch, I am your friend from to-night.
I am always your friend from tliis time."

She turned her flushed face upon Tom to confirm her words
by its kindling expression ; and seizing his right hand, pressed
it to her breast, and kissed it. And there was nothing per

398 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

sonal in this to render it at all embarrassing, for even Tom,
whose power of observation was by no means remarkable,
knew from the energy with which she did it that she would
have fondled any hand, no matter how bedaubed or dyed, that
had broken the head of Jonas Chuzzlewit.

Tom went into his room, and went to bed, full of uncom-
fortable thoughts. That there should be any such tremendous
division in the family as he knew must have taken place to
convert Charity Pecksniff into his friend, for any reason, but,
above all, for that which was clearly the real one ; that Jonas,
who had assailed him with such exceeding coarseness, should
have been sufficiently magnanimous to keep the secret of their
quarrel ; and that any train of circumstances should have led
to the commission of an assault and battery by Thomas Pinch
upon any man calling himself the friend of Seth Pecksniff ;
were matters of such deep and painful cogitation, that he
could not close his eyes. His own violence, in particular, so
preyed upon the generous mind of Tom, that coupling it with
the many former occasions on which he had given Mr. Peck-
sniff pain and anxiety (occasions of which that gentleman
often reminded him), he really began to regard himself as
destined by a mysterious fate to be the evil genius and bad
angel of his patron. But he fell asleep at last, and dreamed
— new source of waking uneasiness — that he had betrayed his
trust, and run away with Mary Graham.

It must be acknowledged that, asleep or awake, Tom's
position in reference to this young lady was full of uneasiness.
The more he saw of her, the more fee admired her beauty, her
intelligence, the amiable qualities that even won on the divided
house of Pecksniff, and in a few days restored at all events the
semblance of harmony and kindness between the angry
sisters. When she spoke, Tom held his breath, so eagerly he
listened ; when she sang, he sat like one entranced. She
touched his organ, and from that bright epoch, even it, the
old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had
thought of elevation, besfan a new and deified existence.

God's love upon thy patience, Tom ! Who, that had be-
held thee, for three summer weeks, poring through half the
deadlong night over the jingling anatomy of that inscrutable
old harpsichord in the back parlor, could have missed the en-
trance to thy secret heart, albeit it was dimly known to thee ?
Who that had seen the glow upon thy cheek when leaning
down to listen, after hours of labor, for the sound of one in-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. jgg

corrigible note, thou foundest that it had a voice at last, and
wheezed out a flat something, distantly akin to what it ought
to be, would not have known that it was destined for no
common touch, but one that smote, though gently as an
angel's hand, upon the deepest chord within thee ! And if a
friendly glance — ay, even though it were as guileless as thine
own. Dear Tom— could but have pierced the twilight of that
evening, when, in a voice well tempered to the time, sad,
sweet, and low, yet hopeful, she first sang to the altered instru-
ment, and wondered at the change ; and thou, sitting apart at
the open window, kept a glad silence and a swelling heart :
must not that glance have read perforce the dawning of a
story, Tom, that^it were well for thee had ne\'er been begun !

Tom Pinch's situation was not made the less dangerous or
difficult, by the fact of no one word passing between them in
reference to Martin. Honorably mindful of his promise, Tom
gave her opportunities of all kinds. Early and late he was in
the church, in her favorite walks, in the village, in the gar-
den, in the meadows ; and in any or all of these places he
might have spoken freely. But no : at all such times she
carefully avoided him, or never came in his way unaccom-
panied. It could not be that she disliked or distrusted him,
for by a thousand little delicate means, too slight for any no-
tice but his own, she singled him out when others were
present, and showed herself the very soul of kindness. Could
it be that she had broken with Martin, or had never returned
his affection, save in his own bold and heightened fancy?
Tom's cheek grew red with self-reproach, as he dismissed the
thought.

All this time old Martin came and went in his own strange
manner, or sat among the rest absorbed within himself, and
holding little intercourse with any one. Although he was un-
social, he was not wilful in other things, or troublesome, or
morose, being never better pleased than when they left him
quite unnoticed at his book, and pursued their own amuse-
ments in his presence, unreserved. It was impossible to
discern in whom he took an interest, or whether he had aw
interest in any of them. Unless they spoke to him directly,
he never showed that he had ears or eyes for an)'thing that
passed.

One day the lively Merry, silting with downcast eyes under
a shady tree in the churchyard, whither she had retired after
fatiguing herself by the imposition of sundry trials on the

^oo MARTIN CHUZZLEWn.

temper of Mr. Jonas, felt that a new shadow came between
her and the sun. Raising her eyes in the expectation of see-
ing her betrothed, she was not a little surprised to see old
Martin instead. Her surprise was not diminished when he
took his seat upon the turf beside her, and opened a conver-
sation thus :

" When are you to be married ? "

" Oh ! dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, my goodness me ! I'm sure
I don't know. Not yet awhile, I hope."

" You hope ? " said the old man.

It was very gravely said, but she took it for banter, and
giggled excessively.

" Come ! " said the old man, with unusual kindness, " you
are young, good-looking, and I think good-natured ! Frivol-
ous you are, and love to be, undoubtedly \ but you must have
some heart."

" I have not given it all away, I can tell you," said Merry,
nodding her head shrewdly, and plucking up the grass.

" Have you parted with any of it ? "

She threw the grass about, and looked another way, but
said nothing.

Martin repeated his question.

" Lor, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit ! really you must excuse
me ! How \'ery odd you are."

" If it be odd in me to desire to know whether you love
the young man whom I understand you are to marr}', I am
very odd," said Martin. " For that is certainly my wish."

" He's such a monster, you know," said Merr}-, pouting.

" Then you don't love him ? " returned the old man. " Is
that your meaning ? "

" Why, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I'm sure I tell him a
hundred times a-day that I hate him. You must have heard
me tell him that."

" Often," said Martin.

" And so I do," cried Merry. " I do positively."

" Being at the same time engaged to many him," observed
the old man.

"Oh yes," said Merry. " But I told the wretch — my dear
Mr. Chuzzlewit, I told him when he asked me — that if I ever
did marr}'- him, it should only be that I might hate and teaze
him all my life."

She had a suspicion that the old man regarded Jonas with
anything but favor, and intended these remarks to be ex-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

401

tremely captivating. He did not appear, however, to regard
them in that light by any means ; for when he spoke again, it
was in a tone of severity.

" Look about you," he said, pointing to the graves ; " and
remember that from }our bridal hour to the day which sees
you brought as low as these, and laid in such a bed, there will
be no appeal against him. Think, and speak, and act, for
once, like an accountable creature. Is any control put upon
your inclinations ? Are you forced into this match ? Are
you insidiously advised or tempted to contract it, by any one .''
I will not ask by whom. By any one ? "

"No," said Merry, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't
know that I am.'^

" Don't know that you are ! Are you ? "

"No," replied INIerry. " Nobody ever said anything to
me about it. If any one had tried to make me have him, I
wouldn't have had him at all."

" I am told that he was at first supposed to be your sister's
admirer," said Martin.

" Oh, good gracious ! My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, it would
be very hard to make him, though he is a monster, account-
able for other people's vanity," said Merr}'. " And poor dear
Cherry is the vainest darling ! "

" It was her mistake, then ? "

"I hope it was," cried Merry ; "but, all along, the dear
child had been so dreadfully jealous, and so cross, that, upon
my word and honor, it's impossible to please her, and it's of
no use trying."

"Not forced, persuaded, or controlled," said Martin,
thoughtfully. " And that's true, I see. There is one chance
yet. You may have lapsed into this engagement in very
giddiness. It may have been the wanton act of a light head.
Is that so ? "

"My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," simpered Merry, "as to light-
headedness, there never was such a feather of a head as
mine. It's a perfect balloon, I declare ! You never did, you
know ! "

He waited quietly till she had finished, and then said,
steadily and slowly, and in a softened voice, as if he would still
invite her confidence :

" Have you any wish — or is there anything within your
breast that whispers you may form the wish, if you have time
to think — to be released from this engagement .'' "

26

402

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Again Miss Merry pouted, and looked down, and plucked
the grass, and shrugged her shoulders. No. She didn't know
that she had. She was pretty sure she hadn't. Quite sure,
she might say. She " didn't mind it."

" Has it ever occurred to you," said Martin, "that your
married life may perhaps be miserable, full of bitterness, and
most unhappy ? "

Merry looked down again : and now she tore the grass up
by the roots.

" My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, what shocking words ! Of
course, I shall quarrel with him. I should quarrel with any
husband. Married people always quarrel, I believe. But as
to being miserable, and bitter, and all those dreadful things,
you know, why I couldn't be absolutely that, unless he always
had the best of it ; and I mean to have the best of it myself.
I always do now," cried Merry, nodding her head and giggling
very much ; " for I make a perfect slave of the creature."

" Let it go on," said Martin, rising. "Let it go on ! I
sought to know your mind, my dear, and you have shown it
me. I wish you joy. Joy ! " he repeated, looking full upon
her, and pointing to the wicket-gate where Jonas entered at
the moment. And then, without waiting for his nephew, he
passed out at another gate, and went away.

" Oh you terrible old man ! " cried the facetious Merry to
herself. " What a perfectly hideous monster to be wandering
about churchyards in the broad daylight, frightening people
out of their wits! Don't come here, Griffin, or I'll go away
directly."

Mr. Jonas was the Griffin. He sat down upon the grass
at her side, in spite of this warning, and sulkily inquired :

" What's my uncle been a talking about ? "

"About you," rejoined Merr}-. " He says you're not half
good enough for me."

"Oh yes, I dare say! We all know that. • He means to
give yovt some present worth having, I hope. Did he say any-
thing that looked like it ? "

" T/iathQ didn't ! " cried Merry, most decisively.

" A stingy old dog he is," said Jonas. " Well ? "

" Griffin ! " cried Miss Mercy, in counterfeit amazement ;
" what are you doing. Griffin ? "

" Only giving you a squeeze," said the discomfited Jonas.
" There's no harm in that, I suppose ? "

" But there is a great deal of harm in it, if I don't consider

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

403

it agreeable," returned his cousin. " Do go along, will you ?
You make me so hot ! "

Mr. Jonas withdrew his arm ; and for a moment looked at
her more like a murderer than a lover. But he cleared his
brow by degrees, and broke silence with :

" I say, Mel ! "

" What do you say, you vulgar thing, you low savage ? "
cried his fair betrothed.

"When is it to be.'' I can't afford to go on dawdling
about here half my life, I needn't tell you, and Pecksniff says
that father's being so lately dead makes very little odds ; for
we can be marcied as quiet as we please down here, and my
being lonely is a good reason to the neighbors for taking a
wife home so soon, especially one that he knew. As to cross-
bones (my uncle, I mean), he's sure not to put a spoke in the
wheel, whatever we settle on, for he told Pecksniff only this
morning, that if you liked it, he'd nothing at all to say. So,
Mel," said Jonas, venturing on another squeeze; "when
shall it be ? "

" Upon my word," cried Merry.

" Upon my soul, if you like," said Jonas. " What do you
say to next week, now ? "

" To next week ! If you had said next quarter, I should
have wondered at your impudence."

" But I didn't say next quarter," retorted Jonas. " I said
next week."

"Then, Griffin," cried Miss Merry, pushing him off, and
rising. " I say no ! not next week. It shan't be till 1 choose,
and I may not choose it to be for months. There ! "

He glanced up at her from the ground, almost as darkly
as he had looked at Tom Pinch \ but held his peace.

" No fright of a Griffin with a patch over his eye, shall
dictate to me, or have a voice in the matter," said Merry.
" There ! "

Still Mr. Jonas held his peace.

" If it's next month, that shall be the very earliest ; but I
won't say when it shall be till to-morrow ; and if you don't
like that, it shall never be at all," said Merry; "and if you
follow me about and won't leave me alone, it shall never be
at all. There ! And if you don't do ever}'thing I order you
to do, it shall never be at all. So don't follow me. There,
Griffin ! "

And with that, she skipped away among the trees.

404

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Ecod, my lady ! " said Jonas, looking after her, and bit-
ing a piece of straw, almost to powder ; " you'll catch it for
this, when you are married ! It's all very well now — it keeps
one on, somehow, and you know it — but I'll pay you off scot
and lot by and by. This is a plaguy dull sort of a place for
a man to be sitting by himself in. I never could abide a
mouldy old churchyard."

As he turned into the avenue himself, Miss Merry, who
was far ahead, happened to look back.

" Ah ! " said Jonas, with a sullen smile, and a nod that
was not addressed to her. " Make the most of it while it
lasts. Get in your hay while the sun shines. Take your own
way as long as it's in your power, my lady ! "

CHAPTER XXV.

IS IN PART PROFESSIONAL ; AND FURNISHES THE READER
WITH SOME VALUABLE HINTS IN RELATION TO THE
MANAGEMENT OF A SICK CHAMBER.

Mr. Mould was surrounded by his household gods. He
was enjoying the sweets of domestic repose, and gazing on
them with a calm delight. The day being sultry, and the
window open, the legs of Mr. Mould were on the window-seat
and his back reclined against the shutter. Over his shining
head a handkerchief was drawn, to guard his baldness from
the flies. The room was fragrant with the smell of punch, a
tumbler of which grateful compound stood upon a small
round table, convenient to the hand of Mr. Mould ; so deftly
mixed, that as his eye looked down into the cool transparent
drink, another eye, peering brightly from behind the crisp
lemon-peel, looked up at him, and twinkled like a star.

Deep in the City, and within the ward of ■ Cheap, stood
Mr. .Mould's establishment. His Harem, or, in other words,
the common sitting-room of Mrs. Mould and family, was at
the back, over the little counting-house behind the shop ; abut-
ting on a churchyard small and shady. In this domestic
chamber Mr. Mould now sat ; gazing, a placid man, upon his
punch and home. If for a moment at a time, he sought a
wider prospect, whence he might return with freshened zest

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

405

to these enjoyments, his moist glance wandered Uke a sun-
beam through a rural screen of scarlet runners, trained on
strings before the window ; and he looked down, with an
artist's eye, upon the graves.

The partner of his life, and daughters twain, were Mr.
Mould's companions. Plump as any partridge was each Miss
Mould, and Mrs. M. was plumper than the two together. So
round and chubby were their fair proportions, that they might
have been the bodies once belonging to the angels' faces in
the shop below, grown up, with other heads attached to make
them mortal. Even their peachy cheeks were puffed out and
distended, as though they ought of right to be performing on
celestial trumpets. The bodiless cherubs in the shop, who
were depicted as constantly blowing those instruments for
ever and ever without any lungs, played, it is to be presumed,
entirely by ear.

Mr. Mould looked lovingly at Mrs. Mould, who sat hard
by, and was a helpmate to him in his punch as in all other
things. Each seraph daughter, too, enjoyed her share of his
regards, and smiled upon him in return. So bountiful were
Mr. Mould's possessions, and so large his stock in trade, that
even there, within his household sanctuar)-, stood a cumbrous
press, whose mahogany maw was filled with shrouds, and
winding-sheets, and other furniture of funerals. ]]ut, though
the Misses Mould had been brought up, as one may say,
beneath his eye, it had cast no shadow on their timid infancy
or blooming youth. Sporting behind the scenes of death and
burial from cradlehood, the Misses Mould knew better. Hat-
bands, to them, were but so many yards of silk or crape ; the
final robe but such a quantity of linen. The Misses Mould
could idealize a player's habit, or a court-lady's petticoat, or
even an act of parliament. But they were not to be taken in
by palls. They made them sometimes.

The premises of Mr. Mould were hard of hearing to the
boisterous noises in the great main streets, and nestled in a
quiet corner, where the City strife became a drowsy hum, that
sometimes rose and sometimes fell and sometimes altogether
ceased ; suggesting to a thoughtful mind a stoppage in Cheap-
side. The light came sparkling in among the scarlet runners,
as if the chur«hyard winked at Mr. Mould, and said, " We
understand each other ; " and from the distant shop a pleasant
sound arose of coffin-making with a low melodious hammer,
rat, tat, tat, tat, alike promoting slumber and digestion.

4o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Quite the buzz of insects," said Mr. Mould, closing his
eyes in a perfect luxury. "It puts one in mind of the sound
of animated nature in the agricultural districts. It's exactly
like the woodpecker tapping."

" The woodpecker tapping the hollow elm tree," observed
Mrs. Mould, adapting the words of the popular melody to the
description of wood commonly used in the trade.

" Ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Mould. " Not at all bad, my
dear. We shall be glad to hear from you again, Mrs. M.
Hollow elm tree, eh ? Ha, ha ! Very good indeed. I've
seen worse than that in the Sunday papers, my love."

Mrs. Mould, thus encouraged, took a little more of the
punch, and handed it to her daughters, who dutifully followed
the example of their mother.

" Hollow elm tree, eh .-' " said Mr. Mould, making a slight
motion with his legs in his enjoyment of the joke. " It's beech
in the song. Elm, eh ? Yes, to be sure. Ha, ha, ha ! Upon
my soul, that's one of the best things I know ! " He was so
excessively tickled by the jest that he couldn't forget it, but
repeated twenty times, " Elm, eh ? Yes, to be sure. Elm, of
course. Ha, ha, ha ! Upon my life, you know, that ought to
be sent to somebody who could make use of it. It's one of
the smartest things that ever was said. Hollow elm tree, eh ?
Of course. Very hollow. Ha, ha, ha ! "

Here a knock was heard at the room door.

"That's Tacker, / know," said Mrs. Mould, "by the
wheezing he makes. Who that hears him now, would sup-
pose he'd ever had wind enough to carry the feathers on his
head ! Come in, Tacker."

" Beg your pardon, ma'am," said Tacker, looking in a little
way. " I thought our Governor was here."

" Well ! so he is," cried Mould.

" Oh ! I didn't see you, I'm sure," said Tacker, looking in
a little farther. " You wouldn't be inclined to take a walking
one of two, with the plain wood and a tin plate, I suppose .? "

" Certainly not," replied Mr. Mould, " much too common.
Nothing to say to it."

" I told 'em it was precious low," observed Mr. Tacker.

" Tell 'em to go somewhere else. We don't do that style
of business here," said Mr. Mould. " Like tJieir impudence
to propose it. Who is it ? "

" Why," returned Tacker, pausing, " that's where it is,
you see. It's the beadle's son-in-law."

MA R TIN- CHUZZLE WIT. 407

•' The beadle's son-in-law, eh ? " said Mould. " Well ! I'll
do it if the beadle follows in his cocked hat ; not else. We
carry it off that way, by looking official, but it'll be low enough
then. His cocked hat, mind ! "

"I'll take care, sir," rejoined Tacker. "Oh! Mrs.
Gamp's below, and wants to speak to you."

" Tell Mrs. Gamp to come up stairs," said Mould. " Now,
Mrs. Gamp, what's your news .'' "

The lady in question was by this time in the doorway,
curtseying to Mrs. Mould. At the same moment a peculiar
fragrance was borne upon the breeze, as if a passing fairy
had hiccoughed, and had previously been to a wine-vault.

Mrs. Gamp made no response to Mr. Mould, but curtseyed
to Mrs. Mould again, and held up her hands and eyes, as in a
devout thanksgiving that she looked so well. She was neatly,
but not gaudily attired, in the weeds she had worn when Mr.
Pecksniff had the pleasure of making her acquaintance ; and
was perhaps the turning of a scale more snuffy.

" There are some happy creeturs," Mrs. Gamp observed,
" as time runs back'ards with, and you are one, Mrs. Mould ;
not that he need do nothing except use you in his most
owldacious way for years to come, I'm sure; for young you
are and will be. I says to Mrs. Harris," Mrs. Gamp con-
tinued, " only t'other day ; the last Monday evening fortnight
as ever dawned upon this Piljian's Projiss of a mortal wale ; I
says to Mrs. Harris when she says to me, ' Years and our
trials, Mrs. Gamp, sets marks upon us all.' — ' Say not the
words, Mrs. Harris, if you and me is to be continual friends,
for sech is not the case. Mrs. Mould,' I says, making so
free, I will confess, as use the name," (she curtseyed here),
"'is one of them that goes agen the obserwation straight;
and never, Mrs. Harris, whilst I've a drop of breath to draw,
will I set by, and not stand up, don't think it.' — ' I ast your
pardon, ma'am,' says Mrs. Harris, ' and I humbly grant your
grace ; for if ever a woman lived as would see lier feller creeturs
into fits to serve her friends, well do I know that woman's
name is Sairey Gamp.' "

At this point she was fain to stop for breath ; and advan-
tage may be taken of the circumstance, to state that a fearful
mystery surrounded this lady of the name of Harris, whom no
one in the circle of Mrs. Gamp's acquaintance had ever seen ;
neither did any human being know her place of residence,
though Mrs. Gamp appeared on her own showing to be in

4oS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

constant communication with her. There were conflicting
rumors on the subject; but the prevalent opinion was that she
was a phantom of Mrs. Gamp's brain — as Messrs. Doe and
Roe are fictions of the law — created for the express purpose
of holding visionar}^ dialogues with her on all manner of sub-
jects, and invariably winding up with a compliment to the ex-
cellence of her nature.

" And likeways what a pleasure," said Mrs. Gamp, turning
with a tearful smile towards the daughters, "to see them two
young ladies as I know'd afore a tooth in their pretty heads
was cut, and have many a day seen — ah, the sweet creeturs ! —
playing at berryins down in the shop, and follerin' the order-
book to its long home in the iron safe ! But that's all past
and over, Mr. Mould ; " as she thus got in a carefully regu-
lated routine to that gentleman, she shook head waggishly ;
" That's all past and over now, sir, an't it ? "

" Changes, Mrs. Gamp, changes ! " returned the under-
taker.

" More changes too, to come, afore we've done with changes,
sir," said Mrs. Gamp, nodding yet more waggishly than before.
" Young ladies with such faces thinks of something else besides
berryins, don't they, sir? "

" I am sure I don't know, Mrs. Gamp," said Mould, with
a chuckle. — " Not bad in Mrs. Gamp, my dear.? "

"Oh yes, you do know, sir!" said Mrs. Gamp, "and so
does Mrs. Mould, your ansome pardner too, sir ; and so do I,
although the blessing of a daughter was deniged me ; which, if
we had had one. Gamp would certainly have drunk its little
shoes right off its feet, as with our precious boy he did, and
arterwards send the child a errand to sell his wooden leg for
any money it would fetch as matches in the rough, and bring
it home in liquor : which was truly done beyond his years, for
ev'ry individgle penny that child lost at toss or buy for kidney
ones ; and come I.ome arterwards quite bold, to break the
news, and offering to drown himself if that would be a satis-
faction to his parents. — Oh yes, you do know, sir," said Mrs.
Gamp, wiping her eye with her shawl, and resuming the thread
of her discourse. " There's something besides births and
berr}'ins in the newspapers, an't there, Mr. Mould ? "

Mr. Mould winked at Mrs. Mould; whom he had by this
time taken on his knee, and said : " No doubt. A good deal
more, Mrs. Gamp. Upon my life, Mrs. Gamp is very far from
bad, my dear ! "

MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT. 409

"There's marr}dngs, an't there, sir ! " said Mrs. Gamp, while
both the daughters blushed and tittered. " Bless their pre-
cious hearts, and well they knows it ! Well you know'd it too,
and well did Mrs, Mould, when you was at their time of life !
But my opinion is, you're all of one age now. For as to you
and Mrs. Mould, sir, ever having grand-children — "

" Oh ! Fie, fie ! Nonsense, Mrs. Gamp," replied the under-
taker. " Devilish smart, though. Ca-pi-tal ! " This was in a
whisper. " INIy dear — " aloud again — "Mrs. Gamp can drink
a glass of rum, I dare say. Sit down, Mrs. Gamp, sit down."

Mrs. Gamp took the chair that was nearest the door, and
casting up her eyes towards the ceiling, feigned to be wholly
insensible to the fact of a glass of rum being in preparation,
until it was placed in her hand by one of the young ladies,
when she exhibited the greatest surprise.

"A thing," she said, "as hardly ever, Mrs. Mould, occurs
with me unless it is when I am indispoged, and find my
half a pint of porter settling heavy on the chest. Mrs. Harris
often and often says to me, ' Sairey Gamp," she says, ' you
raly do amaze me ! ' ' Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, ' why so ?
Give it a name, I beg.' ' Telling the truth then, ma'am,' says
Mrs. Harris, ' and shaming him as shall be nameless betwixt
3^ou and me, never did I think till I know'd you. as any woman
could sick-nurse and monthly likeways, on the little that you
takes to drink.' ' Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, ' none on us
knows what we can do till we tries ; and wunst, when me and
Gamp kept ouse, I thought so too. But now,' I says, ' my
half a pint of porter fully satisfies ; perwisin', Mrs. Harris,
that it is brought reg'lar, and draw'd mild. Whether I sicks
or monthlies, ma'am, I hope I does my duty, but I am but a
poor woman, and I earns my living hard ; therefore I do re-
quire it, which I makes confession, to be brought reg'lar and
draw'd mild.' "

The precise connection between these observations and
the glass of rum, did not appear ; for Mrs. Gamp proposing
as a toast " The best of lucks to all ! " took off the dram in
quite a scientiffc manner, without any further remarks.

" And what's your news, Mrs. Gamp ? " asked Mould again,
as that lady wiped her lips upon her shawl, and nibbled a
corner off a soft biscuit, which she appeared to carry in her
pocket as a provision against contingent drams. " How's Mr.
Chuffey ? "

"Mr. Chuffey, sir,"' she replied, " is jest as usual ; he an't

41 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

no better and he an't no worse. I take it very kind in the
gentleman to have wrote up to you and said, ' let Mrs. Gamp
take care of him till I come home ; ' but ev'ry think he does is
kind. There an't a many like him. If there was, we shouldn't
want no churches."

" What do you want to speak to me about, Mrs. Gamp ? "
said Mould, coming to the point.

"Jest this, sir," Mrs. Gamp returned, " with thanks to you
for asking. There is a gent, sir, at the Bull in Holborn, as
has been took ill there, and is bad abed. They have a day
nurse as was recommended from Bartholomew's ; and well I
knows her, Mr. Mould, her name bein' Mrs. Prig, the best of
creeturs. But she is othervvays engaged at night, and they are
in wants of night-watching ; consequent she says to them,
having reposed the greatest friendliness in me for twenty year,
' The soberest person going, and the best of blessings in a
sick room, is Mrs. Gamp. Send a boy to Kingsgate Street,'
she says, ' and snap her up at any price, for Mrs. Gamp is
worth her weight and more in goldian guineas.' My landlord
brings the message down to me, and says, ' bein' in a light
place where you are, and this job promising so well, why not
unite the two ? ' 'No sir,' I says, 'not unbeknown to Mr.
Mould, and therefore do not think it. But I will go to Mr.
Mould,' I says, ' and ast him, if you like.' " Here she looked
sideways at the undertaker, and came to a slop.

" Night-watching, eh?" said Mould, rubbing his chin.

" From eight o'clock till eight, sir. I will not deceive
you," Mrs. Gamp rejoined.

" And then go back, eh ? " said Mould.

"Quite free "then, sir, to attend to Mr. Chuffey. His ways
bein' quiet, and his hours early, he'd be abed, sir, nearly all
the time. I will not deny," said Mrs. Gamp with meekness,
" that I am but a poor woman, and that the money is a object ;
but do not let that act upon you, Mr. Mould. Rich folks may
ride on camels, but it ain't so easy for 'em to see out of a
needle's eye. That is my comfort, and I hope I knows it."

" Well, Mrs. Gamp,"' observed Mould, " I don't see any
particular objection to your earning an honest penny under such
circumstances. I should keep it quiet, I think, Mrs. Gamp. I
wouldn't mention it to Mr. Chuzzlewit on his return, for in-
stance, unless it were necessary, or he asked you point-blank."

" The very words was on my lips, sir," Mrs. Gamp rejoined.
" Suppoging that the gent should die, I hope I might take the

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 411

liberty of saying as I knowed some one in the undertaking
line, and yet give no offence to you, sir ? "

" Certainly, Mrs. Gamp," said Mould, with much conde-
scension. " You may casually remark, in such a case, that we
do the thing pleasantly and in a great variety of styles, and
are generally considered to make it as agreeable as possible
to the feelings of the survivors. But don't obtrude it, don't
obtrude it. Easy, easy ! My dear, you may as well give
Mrs. Gamp a card or two, if you please."

Mrs. Gamp received them, and scenting no more rum in
the wind (for the bottle was locked up again) rose to take her
departure.

"Wishing ev'r}^ happiness to this happy family," said Mrs.
Gamp, " with all my heart. Good arternoon, Mrs. Mould !
If I was Mr. Mould, I should be jealous of you, ma'am ;
and I'm sure, if I was you, I should be jealous of Mr. Mould."

" Tut, tut ! Bah, bah ! Go along, Mrs. Gamp ! " cried
the delighted undertaker.

" As to the young ladies," said Mrs. Gamp, dropping a
curtsey, " bless their sweet looks — how they can ever recon-
size it with their duties to be so grown up wdth such young
parents, it an't for sech as me to give a guess at."

" Nonsense, nonsense. Be off, Mrs. Gamp ! " cried
Mould. But in the height of his gratification, he actually
pinched Mrs. Mould, as he said it.

" I'll tell you what, my dear," he observed, when Mrs.
Gamp had at last withdrawn, and shut the door, " that's a
ve-ry shrewd woman. That's a woman whose intellect is im-
mensely superior to her station in life. That's a woman who
observes and retiects in an uncommon manner. She's the
sort of woman now," said Mould, drawing his silk handker-
chief over his head again, and composing himself for a nap,
" one would almost feel disposed to buiy for nothing : and do
it neatly, too ! "

Mrs. Mould and her daughters fully concurred in these
remarks; the subject of which had by this time reached the
street, where she experienced so much inconvenience from
the air, that she was obliged to stand under an archway for a
short time, to reco\er herself. Even after this precaution, she
walked so unsteadily as to attract the compassionate regards
of divers kind-hearted boys, who took the liveliest interest in
her disorder ; and in their simple language, bade her be of
good cheer, for she was, " only a little screwed."

412 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

Whatever she was, or whatever name the vocabulary of
medical science would have bestowed upon her malady, Mrs.
Gamp was perfectly acquainted with the way home again ;
and arriving at the house of Anthony Chuzzlewit & Son, lay
down to rest. Remaining there until seven o'clock in the
evening, and then persuading poor old Chuffey to betake him-
self to bed, she sallied forth upon her new engagement. First,
she went to her private lodgings in Kingsgate Street, for a
bundle of robes and wrappings comfortable in the night
season ; and then repaired to the Bull in Holborn, which she
reached as the clocks were striking eight.

As she turned into the yard, she stopped ; for the land-
lord, landlady, and head chambermaid, were all on the thresh-
old together, talking earnestly with a young gentleman who
seemed to have just come or to be just going away. The
first words that struck upon Mrs. Gamp's ear obviously bore
reference to the patient ; and it being expedient that all good
attendants should know as much as possible about the case
on which their skill is brought to bear, Mrs. Gamp listened as
a matter of duty.

" No better, then .-' " observed the gentleman.

" Worse ! " said the landlord.

*' Much worse," add the landlady.

" Oh ! a deal badder," cried the chambermaid from the
background, opening her eyes very wide, and shaking her
head.

" Poor fellow ! " said the gentleman, " I am sorry to hear
it. The worst of it is, that I have no idea what friends or
relations he has, or where they live, except that it certainly is
not in London."

The landlord looked at the landlady ; the landlady looked
at the landlord ; and the chambermaid remarked, hysterically,
" that of all the many wague directions she had ever seen or
heerd of (and they wasn't few in an hotel), that was the
waguest."

" The fact is, you see," pursued the gentleman, " as I told
you yesterday when you sent to me, I really know very little
about him. We were school-fellows together ; but since that
time I have only met him twice. On both occasions I was in
London for a boy's holiday (having come up for a week or so
from Wiltshire), and lost sight of him again directly. The
letter bearing my name and address which you found upon
his table, and which led to your applying to me, is in answer,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

413

you will observe, to one he wrote from this house the very
day he was taken ill, making an appointment with him at his
own request. Here is his letter, if you wish to see it."

The landlord read it : the landlady looked over him. The
chambermaid, in the background, made out as much of it as
she could, and invented the rest ; believing it all from that
time forth as a positive piece of evidence.

" He has very little luggage, you say ? " observed the
gentleman, who was no other than our old friend, John West-
lock.

"Nothing but a portmanteau,"' said the landlord] "and
very little in it."

" A few pounds in his purse, though 1 "

" Yes. It's sealed up, and in the cash-box. I made a
memorandum of the amount, which j^ou're welcome to see."

" Well ! " said John, " as the medical gentleman says the
fever must take its course, and nothing can be done just now
beyond giving him his drinks regularly and having him care-
fully attended to, nothing more can be said that I know of,
until he is in a condition to give us some information. Can
you suggest anything else .'' "

" N-no," replied the landlord, " except — "

" Except, who's to pay, I suppose.' " said John.

"Why," hesitated the landlord, "it would be as well."

"Quite as well," said the landlady.

" Not forgetting to remember the servants," said the cham-
bermaid in a bland whisper.

" It is but reasonable, I fully admit," said John Westlock.
" At all events, you have the stock in hand sto go upon for
the present ; and I will readily undertake to pay the doctor
and the nurses."

" Ah ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " A rayal gentleman ! "

She groaned her admiration so audibly, that they all
turned round. Mrs. Gamp felt the necessity of advancing,
bundle in hand, and introducing herself.

" The night-nurse," she observed, " from Kingsgate Street,
well beknown to Mrs. Prig the day-nurse, and the best of
creeturs. How is the poor dear gentleman, to-night .-" If he
an't no better yet, still that is what must be expected and pre-
pared'for. It an't the fust time by a many score, ma'am,"
dropping a curtsey to the landlady, " that Mrs. Prig and me
has nussed together, turn and turn about, one off, one on.
We knows each other's ways, and often gives relief when

414 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Others fail. Our charges is but low, sir " — Mrs. Gamp
addressed herself to John on this head — "considerin' the
nater of our painful dooty. If they wos made accordin' to
our wishes, they would be easy paid."

Regarding herself as having now delivered her inaugura-
tion address, Mrs. Gamp curtseyed all round, and signified
her wish to be conducted to the scene of her official duties.
The chambermaid led her, through a variety of intricate pas-
sages, to the top of the house ; and pointing at length to a
solitary door at the end of a gallery, informed her that
yonder was the chamber where the patient lay. That done,
she hurried off with all the speed she could make.

Mrs. Gamp traversed the gallery in a great heat from hav-
ing carried her large bundle up so many stairs, and tapped at the
door, which was immediately opened by Mrs. Prig, bonneted and
shawled and all impatience to be gone. Mrs. Prig was of the
Gamp build, but not so fat ; and her voice was deeper and
more like a man's. She had also a beard.

" I began to think you warn't a coming ! " Mrs. Prig ob-
served, in some displeasure.

" It shall be made good to-morrow night," said Mrs. Gamp,
" /honorable. I had to go and fetch my things." She had be-
gun to make signs of inquiry in reference to the position of
the patient and his overhearing them — for there was a screen
before the door — when Mrs. Prig settled that point easily.

" Oh ! " she said aloud, " he's quiet, but his wits is gone.
It ain't no matter wot you say."

" Anything to tell afore you goes, my dear ? " asked Mrs.
Gamp, setting her bundle down inside the door, and looking
affectionately at her partner.

"The pickled Salmon," Mrs. Prig replied, '^' is quite de-
licious. I can partick'ler recommend it. Don't have noth-
ing to say to the cold me'at, for it tastes of the stable. The
drinks is all good."

Mrs. Gamp expressed herself much gratified.

"The physic and them things is on the drawers and
mankle-shelf," said Mrs. Prig, cursorily. " He took his last
slime draught at seven. The easy-chair an't soft enough.
You'll want his piller."

Mrs. Gamp thanked her for these hints, and giving her a
friendly good-night, held the door open until she had disap-
peared at the other end of the gallery. Having thus performed
the hospitable duty of seeing her safely off, she shut it, locked

MAJi TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

415

it on the inside, took up her bundle, walked round the screen,
and entered on her occupation of the sick chamber.

" A little dull, but not so bad as might be," Mrs. Gamp
remarked. " I'm glad to see a parapidge, in case of fire, and
lots of roofs and chimley-pots to walk upon."

It will be seen from these remarks that Mrs. Gamp was
looking out of window. When she had exhausted the prospect,
she tried the easy-chair, which she indignantly declared was
" harder than a brickbadge." Next she pursued her researches
among the physic-bottles, glasses, jugs, and tea-cups ; and
when she had entirely satisfied her curiosity on all these sub-
jects of investigation, she untied her bonnet-strings and
strolled up to the bed-side to take a look at the patient.

A young inan — dark and not ill-looking — with long black
hair, that seemed the blacker for the whiteness of the bed-
clothes. His eyes were partly open, and he never ceased
to roll his head from side to side upon the pillow, keep-
ing his body almost quiet. He did not utter words ; but
every now and then gave vent to an expression of impatience
or fatigue, sometimes of surprise ; and still his restless head
— oh, weary, weary hour ! — went to an fro without a moment's
intermission.

Mrs. Gamp solaced herself with a pinch of snuff, and
stood looking at him with her head inclined a little sideways,
as a connoisseur might gaze upon a doubtful work of art. By
degrees, a horrible remembrance of one branch of her call-
ing took possession of the woman ; and stooping down, she
pinned his wandering arms against his sides, to see how he
would look if laid out as a dead man. Hideous as it may
appear, her fingers itched to compose his limbs in that last
marble attitude.

" Ah ! " said Mrs. Gamp, walking away from the bed, " he'd
make a lovely corpse."

She now proceeded to unpack her bundle ; lighted a candle
with the aid of a fire-box on the drawers ; filled a small ket-
tle, as a preliminary to refreshing herself with a cup of tea in
the course of the night ; laid what she called " a little bit of fire,"
for the same philanthropic purpose ; and also set forth a small
teaboard, that nothing might be wanting for her comfortable
enjoyment. These preparations occupied so long, that when
they were brought to a conclusion it was high time to think
about supper ; so she rang the bell and ordered it.

"I think, young woman," said Mrs. Gamp to the assistant

4 1 6 ^fA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

chambermaid, in a tone expressive of weakness, " that I could
pick a little bit of pickled salmon, with a nice little sprig of
fennel, and a sprinkling of white pepper. I takes new bread,
my dear, with jest a little pat of fresh butter, and a mossel of
cheese. In case there should be such a thing as a cowcum-
ber in the 'ouse, will you be so kind as bring it, for I'm rather
partial to 'em, and they does a world of good in a sick room.
If they draws the Brighton Old Tipper here, I takes that ale
at nig'it, my love ; it being considered wakeful by the doctors.
And what ever you do, young woman, don't bring more than
a shilling's-worth of gin and watei warm when I rings the bell
a second time ; for that is always my allowance, and I never
takes a drop beyond ! "

Having preferred these moderate requests" Mrs. Gamp
observed that she would stand at the door until the order was
executed, to the end that the patient might not be disturbed
by her opening it a second time ;' and therefore she would
thank the young woman to "look sharp."

A tray was brought with everything upon it, even to the
cucumber ; and Mrs. Gamp accordingly sat down to eat and
drink in high good humor. The extent to which she availed
herself of the vinegar, and supped up that refreshing fluid with
the blade of her knife, can scarcely be expressed in narrative.

" Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Gamp, as she meditated over the
warm shilling's-worth, " what a blessed thing it is — living in a
wale — to be contented ! What a blessed thing it is to make
sick people happy in their beds, and never mind one's self as
long as one can do a service ! I don't believe a finer cow-
cumber was ever grow'd. I'm sure I never see one ! "

She moralized in the same vein until her glass was empty,
and then administered the patient's medicine, by the simple
process of clutching his windpipe to make him gasp, and im-
mediately pouring it down his throat.

" I a'most forgot the piller, I declare ! " said Mrs. Gamp,
drawing it away. " There ! Now he's comfortable as he can
be, /'m sure ! I must try to make myself as much so as I can."

With this view, she went about the construction of an ex-
temporaneous bed in the easy chair, with the addition of the
next easy one at her feet. Having formed the best couch
that the circumstances admitted of, she took out of her bundle
a yellow nightcap, of prodigious size, in shape resembling a
cabbage ; which article of dress she fixed and tied on with
the utmost care, previously divesting herself of a row of bald

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

417

old curls that could scarcely be called false, they were so very
innocent of anything ajDproaching to deception. Yxoxa. the
same repository she brought forth a night jacket, in which she
also attired herself. Finally, she produced a watchman's coat,
which she tied round her neck by the sleeves, so that she be-
came two people ; and looked, behind, as if she were in the
act of being embraced by one of the old patrol.

All these arrangements made, she lighted the rushlight,
coiled herself upon her couch, and went to sleep. Ghostly
and dark the room became, and full of lowering shadows.
The distant noises in the streets were gradually hushed ; the
house was quiet as a sepulchre ; the dead of night was coffined
in the silent city.

Oh weaiy, wear}' hour ! Oh haggard mind, grouping
darkly through the past ; incapable of detaching itself from the
miserable present ;' dragging its heavy chain of care through
imaginary feasts and revels, and scenes of awful pomp ; seek-
ing but a moment's rest among the long-forgotten haunts of
childhood, and the resorts of yesterday ; and dimly finding
fear and horror everywhere ! Oh, wear\% wear}^ hour ! What
were the wanderings of Cain, to these !

Still, without a moment's interval, the burning head tossed
to and fro. Still, from time to time, fatigue, impatience, suf-
fering, and surprise, found utterance upon that rack, and
plainly too, though never once in words. At length, in the
solemn hour of midnight, he began to talk ; waiting awfully
for answers sometimes, as though invisible companions were
about his bed, and so replying to their speech and question-

ing agam.

Mrs. Gamp awoke, and sat up in her bed, presenting on
the wall the shadow of a gigantic night constable, struggling
with a prisoner.

" Come ! Hold your tongue ! " she cried, in sharp reproof.
"Don't make none of that noise here."

There was no alteration in the face, or in the incessant
motion of the head, but he talked on wildly.

" Ah ! " said Mrs. Gamp, coming out of the chair with an
impatient shiver ; " I thought I was a sleepin' too pleasant to
last ! The devil's in the night, I think, it's turned so chilly ! "

" Don't drink so much ! " cried the sick man. " You'll
ruin us all. Don't you see how the fountain sinks ? Look
at the mark where the sparkling water was just now ! "

" Sparkling water, indeed ! " said Mrs. Gamp. " I'll have

27

41 8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

a sparkling cup o' tea, I think. I wish you'd hold your
noise ! "'

He burst into a laugh, which, being prolonged, fell off
into a dismal wail. Checking himself, with tierce inconstancy
he began to count, fast.

" One — two — three — four — five — six. "

" ' One, two, buckle my shoe,' " said Mrs. Gamp, who was
now on her knees, lighting the fire, " ' three, four, shut the
door,' — I wish you'd shut your mouth, young man — ' five, six,
picking up sticks.' If I'd got a few handy, I should have the
kettle biling all the sooner."

Awaiting this desirable consummation, she sat down so
close to the fender (which was a high one) that her nose
rested upon it ; and for some time she drowsily amused her-
self by sliding that feature backwards and forwards along the
brass top, as far as she could, without changing her position
to do it. She maintained, all the while, a running commen-
tary upon the wanderings of the man in bed.

" That makes five hundred and twenty-one men, all dressed
alike, and with the same distortion on their faces, that have
passed in at the window, and out at the door," he cried,
anxiously. " Look there ! Five hundred and twenty-two —
twenty-three — twenty-four. Do you see them ? "

" Ah ! /see 'em," said Mrs. Gamp ; " all the whole kit of
'em numbered like hackney-coaches, ain't they ? "

" Touch me ! Let me be sure of this. Touch me ! "

" You'll take your next draught when I've made the kettle
bile," retorted Mrs. Gamp, composedly, " and you'll be
touched then. You'll be touched up, too, if you don't take it
quiet."

" Five hundred and twenty-eight, five hundred and twenty-
nine, five hundred and thirty, — look here ! "

" What's the matter now ? " said Mrs. Gamp.

" They're coming four abreast, each man with his arm
entwined in the next man's, and his hand upon his shoulder.
What's that upon the arm of every man, and on the flag t "

" Spiders, p'raps," said Mrs. Ganip.

" Crape ! Black crape ! Good God ! why do they wear
it outside ? "

" Would you have 'em carry black crape in their insides ? "
Mrs. Gamp retorted. " Hold your noise, hold your noise."

The fire beginning by this time to impart a grateful
warmth, Mrs. Gamp became silent ; gradually rubbed her

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

419

nose more and more slowly along the top of the fender ; and
fell into a heavy doze. She was awakened by the room ring-
ing (as she fancied) with a name she knew :

" Chuzzlewit ! "

The sound was so distinct and real, and so full of agonized
entreaty, that Mrs. Gamp jumped up in terror, and ran to the
door. She expected to find the passage filled with people,
come to tell her that the house in the City had taken tire.
But the place was empty — not a soul was there. She opened
the window, and looked out. Dark, dull, ding}^, and desolate
house-tops. As she passed to her seat again, she glanced at
the patient. Just the same ; but silent. Mrs. Gamp was so
warm now, that .she threw off the watchman's coat, and fanned
herself.

" It seemed to make the wer}^ bottles ring," she said.
" What could I have been a-dreaming of ? That dratted
ChufTey, I'll be bound."

The supposition was probable enough. At any rate, a
pinch of snuff, and the song of the steaming kettle, quite re-
stored the tone of Mrs. Gamp's nerves, which were none of
the weakest. She brewed her tea ; made some buttered
toast ; and sat down at the tea-board, with her face to the
fire.

When once again, in a tone more terrible than tliat which
had vibrated in her slumbering ear, these words were shrieked
out :

" Chuzzlewit ! Jonas ! No ! "

Mrs. Gamp dropped the cup she was in the act of raising
to her lips, and turned round with a start that made the little
tea-board leap. The cry had come from the bed.

It was bright morning the next time Mrs. Gamp looked
out of the window, and the sun was rising cheerfully. Lighter
and lighter grew the sky, and noisier the streets ; and high
into the summer air uprose the smoke of newly kindled fires,
until the busy day was broad awake.

Mrs. Prig relieved punctually, having passed a good night
at her other patient's. Mr. Westlock came at the same time,
but he was not admitted, the disorder being infectious. The
doctor came too. The doctor sliook iiis head. It was all he
could do, under the circumstances, and he did it well.

" What sort of a night, nurse ? "

" Restless, sir," said Mrs. Gamp.

" Talk much ? "

42 o

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Middling, sir," said Mrs. Gamp.

" Nothing to the purpose, I suppose ? "

" Oh bless you no, sir. Only jargon."

"Well ! " said the doctor, " we must keep him quiet ; keep
the room- cool ; give him his draughts regularly ; and see that
he's carefully looked too. That's all ! "

" And as long as Mrs. Prig and me waits upon him, sir,
no fear of that," said Mrs. Gamp

" I suppose," observed Mrs. Prig, when they had curtseyed
the doctor out, " there's nothin' new? "

" Nothin' at all, my dear," said Mrs. Gamp. " He's rather
wearin' in his talk from making up a lot of names ; elseways
you needn't mind him."

" Oh, I sha'n't mind him,"' Mrs. Prig returned. " I have
somethin' else to think of."

" I pays my debts to-night, you know, my dear, and comes
afore my time," said Mrs. Gamp. " But, Betsey Prig " —
speaking with great feeling, and laying her hand upon her
arm — " try the cowcumbers. God bless you ! "

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, AND A PROMISING PROSPECT.

The laws of sympathy between beards and birds, and the
secret source of that attraction which frequently impels a
shaver of the one to be a dealer in the other, are questions
for the subtle reasoning of scientific bodies : not the less so,
because their investigation would seem calculated to lead
to no particular result. It is enough to know that the
artist who had the honor of entertaining Mrs. Gamp as his
first-floor lodger united the two pursuits of barbering and
bird-fancying ; and that it was not an original idea of his, but
one in which he had, dispersed about the by-streets and sub-
urbs of the town, a host of rivals.

The name of this householder was Paul Sweedlepipe. But
he was commonly called Poll Sweedlepipe, and was not
uncommonly believed to have been so christened, among his
friends and neighbors.

MAJi TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 42 1

I

With the exception of the staircase, and his lodger's
private apartment, Poll Sweedlepipe's house was one great
bird's nest. Game-cocks resided in the kitchen ; pheasants
wasted the brightness of their golden plumage on the garret ;
bantams roosted in the cellar ; owls had possession of the
bed-room ; and specimens of all the smaller fry of birds chir-
ruped and twittered in the shop. The staircase was sacred to
rabbits. There in hutches of all shapes and kinds, made
from old packing-cases, boxes, drawers, and tea-chests, they
increased in a prodigious degree, arid contributed their share
towards that complicated whiff which, quite impartially, and
without distinction of person, saluted every nose that was put
into Sweedlepipe's easy shaving-shop.

Many noses found their way there, for all that, especially
on Sunday morning, before church-time. Even archbishops
shave, or must be shaved, on a Sunday, and beards 7xv7/ grow
after twelve o'clock on Saturday night, though it be upon the
chins of base mechanics ; who, not being able to engage their
valvets by the quarter, hire them by the job, and pay them —
oh, the wickedness of copper coin ! — in dirty pence. Poll
Sweedlepipe, the sinner, shaved all comers at a penny each,
and cut the hair of any customer for twopence ; and being a
lone unmarried man, and having some connection in the bird
line. Poll got on tolerably well.

He was a little elderly man, with a clammy cold right
hand, from which even rabbits and birds could not remove
the smell of shaving-soap. Poll had something of the bird
in his nature ; not of the hawk or eagle, but of the sparrow,
that builds in chimney-stacks, and inclines to human company.
He was not quarrelsome, though, like the sparrow ; but peace-
ful, like the dove. In his walk he strutted; and, in this re-
spect, he bore a faint resemblance to the pigeon, as well as in
a certain prosiness of speech, which might, in its monotony,
be likened to the cooing of that bird. He was very inquisi-
tive ; and when he stood at his shop-door in the evening-tide,
watching the neighbors, with his head on one side, and his
eye cocked knowingly, there was a dash of the raven in him.
Yet, there was no more wickedness in I^oll than in a robin.
Happily, too, when any of his ornithological properties were
on the verge of going too far, they were quenched, dissolved,
melted down, and neutralized in the barber ; just as his bald
head — otherwise, as the head of a shaved magpie — lost itself
in a wig of curly black ringlets, parted on one side, and cut

42 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

away almost to the crown, to indicate immense capacity of
intellect.

Poll had a very small, shrill, treble voice, which might
have led the wags of Kingsgate Street to insist the more upon
his feminine designation. He had a tender heart, too ; for,
when he had a good commission to provide three or four score
sparrows for a shooting-match, he would observe, in a compas-
sionate tone, how singular it was that sparrows should have
been made expressly for such purposes. The question, whether
men were made to shoot tliem, never entered into Poll's phi-
losophy.

Poll wore in his sporting character, a velveteen coat, a
great deal of blue stocking, ankle boots, a neckerchief of
some bright color, and a very tall hat. Pursuing his more
qujet occupation of barber, he generally subsided into an
apron not over-clean, a flannel jacket, and corduroy knee-
shorts. It was in this latter costume, but with his apron
girded round his waist, as a token of his having shut up shop
for the night, that he closed the door one evening, some weeks
after the occurrences detailed in the last chapter, and stood
upon the steps in Kingsgate Street, listening until the little
cracked bell within should leave off ringing. For, until it
did — this was Mr. Sweedlepipe's reflection — the place never
seemed quiet enough to be left to itself.

" It's the greediest little bell to ring," said Poll, " that
ever was. But it's quiet at last."

He rolled his apron up a little tighter as he said these
words, and hastened down the street. Just as he was turn-
ing into Holborn, he ran against a young gentleman in a liv-
ery. This youth was bold, though small, and with several
lively expressions of displeasure, turned upon him instantly.

" Now, Stoo-pid ! " cried the young gentleman. " Can't
you look where you're a going to — eh ? Can't you mind
where you're a coming to — eh ? What do you think your
eyes was made for — eh ? Ah ! Yes. Oh ! Now then ! "

The young gentleman pronounced the two last words in a
very- loud tone and with frightful emphasis, as though they
contained within themselves the essence of the direst aggra-
vation. But he had scarcely done so, when his anger yielded
to surprise, and he cried, in a milder tone :

" What ! Polly ! "

" Why it ain't you, sure ! " cried Poll. " It can't be you ! "
No, It ain't me," returned the youtli. " It's my son, my

a

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

423

oldest one. He's a credit to his father, ain't he, Polly ? "
With this delicate little piece of banter, he halted on the pave-
ment, and went round and round in circles, for the better ex-
hibition of his figure, rather to the inconvenience of the pas-
sengers generally, who were not in an equal state of spirits
with himself.

" I wouldn't have believed it," said Poll. " What ! You've
left your old place, then ? Have you 1 "

" Have I ! " returned his young friend, who had by this
time stuck his hands into the pockets of his white cord breeches,
and was swaggering along at the barber's side. " D'ye know
a pair of top-boots when you see 'em, Polly .'' Look here ! "

" Beau-ti-ful^! " cried Mr. Sweedlepipe.

"D'ye know a slap-up sort of button, when you see it.'"'
said the youth. " Don't look at mine, if you ain't a judge,
because these lions' heads was made for men of taste, "not
snobs."

" Beau-ti-ful ! " cried the barber again. " A grass-green
frock-coat, too, bound with gold ! And a cockade in your
hat ! "

"/should hope so," replied the youth. "Blow the cock-
ade, though ; for, except that it don't turn round, it's like the
wentilator that used to be in the kitchen winder at Todgers's.
You ain't seen the old lady's name in the Gazette, have you ? "

" No," returned the barber. " Is she a bankrupt ? "

" If she ain't, she will be," retorted Bailey. " That bis'-
ness never can be carried on without me. Well ! How are
you ? "

" Oh ! I'm pretty well," said Poll. " Are you living at this
end of the town, or were you coining to see me ? Was that
the bis'ness that brought you to Holborn ? "

" I haven't got no bis'ness in Holborn," returned Bailey,
with some displeasure. " All my bis'ness lays at the West-
end. I've got the right sort of governor now. You can't see
his face for his whiskers, and can't see his whiskers for the
dye upon 'em. That's a gentleman, ain't it } You wouldn't
like a ride in a cab, would you? Why, it wouldn't be safe to
offer it. You'd faint away, only to see me a comin' at a mild
trot round the corner."

To convey a slight idea of the effect of this approach, Mr.
Bailey counterfeited in his own person the action of a high-
trotting horse, and threw up his head so high, in backing
against a pump, that he shook his hat off.

424 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

"Why, he's own uncle to Capricorn," said Bailey, "and
brother to Cauliflower. He's been through the winders of
two chaney shops since we've had him, andwos sold for killin'
his missis. That's a horse, I hope ? "

"Ah ! you'll never want to buy any more red-polls, now,"
observed Poll, looking on his young friend with an air of mel-
ancholy. " You'll never want to buy any more red-polls now,
to hang up over the sink, will you ? "

"/should think not," replied Bailey. " Reether so. I
wouldn't have nothin' to say to any bird below a Peacock ;
and he'^ be wulgar. Well, how are you ? "

" Oh ! I'm pretty well," said Poll. He answered the ques-
tion again because Mr. Bailey asked it again ; Mr. Bailey
asked it again, because— accompanied with a straddling action
of the white cords, a bend of the knees, and a striking-
forth of the top-boots — it was an easy, horse-fleshy, turfy sort
of thing to do.

" Wot are you up to, old feller ? " asked Mr. Bailey, with
the same graceful rakishness. He was quite the man-about-
town of the conversation, while the easy-shaver was the child.

" Why, I am going to fetch my lodger home," said Paul.

" A woman ! " cried Mr. Bailey, " for a twenty-pun' note \ "

The little barber hastened to explain that she was neither
a young woman, nor a handsome woman, but a nurse, who
had been acting as a kind of housekeeper to a gentleman for
some weeks past, and left her place that night, in consequence
of being superseded by another and a more legitimate house-
keeper : to wit, the gentleman's bride.

" He's newly-married, and he brings his young wife home
to-night," said the barber. " So I'm going to fetch my lodger
away — Mr. Chuzzlewit's, close behind the Post-office — and
carry her box for her."

" Jonas Chuzzlewit's ? " said Bailey.

" Ah ! " returned Paul : " that's the name sure enough.
Do you know him ? "

" Oh, no ! " cried Mr. Bailey ; " not at all. And I don't
know her ! Not neither ! Why, they first kept company
through me, a'most."

" Ah ? " said Paul.

" Ah ! " said Mr. Bailey, with a wink ; " and she ain't bad-
looking, mind you. But her sister was the best. She was the
merry one. I often used to have a bit of fun with her, in the
hold times ! "

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 425

Mr. Bailey spoke as if he already had a leg and three-
quarters in the grave, and this had happened twenty or thirty
years ago. Paul Sweedlepipe, the meek, was so perfectly
confounded by his precocious self-possession, and his patroniz-
ing manner, as well as by his boots, cockade, and liver}', that
a mist swam before his eyes, and he saw— not the Bailey, of
acknowledged juvenility, from Todgers's Commercial Boarding
House, who had made his acquaintance within a twelvemonth,
by purchasing, at all sundry times, small birds at two pence each
— but a highly condensed embodiment of the sporting grooms in
London ; an abstract of all the stable-knowledge of the time ; a
something at a high-pressure thatmusthave had existence many
years, and was fraught with terrible experiences. And truly,
though in the cloudy atmosphere of Todgers's, Mr. Bailey's ge-
nius had ever shone out brightly in this particular respect, it now
eclipsed both time and space, cheated beholders of their senses,
and worked on their belief in defiance of all natural laws. He
walked along the tangible and real stones of Holborn Hill,
an under-sized boy ; and yet he winked the winks, and thought
the thoughts, and did the deeds, and said the sayings of an
ancient man. There was an old principle within him, and a
young surface without. He became an inexplicable creature :
a breeched and booted Sphinx. There was no course open to
the barber but to go distracted himself, or to take Bailey for
granted : and he wisely chose the latter.

Mr. Bailey was good enough to continue to bear him com-
pany, and to entertain him, as they went, with easy conversa-
tion on various sporting topics ; especially on the compara-
tive merits, as a general principle, of horses with white stock-
ings, and horses without. In regard to the style of tail to be
preferred, Mr. Bailey had opinions of his own, wiiich he ex-
plained, but begged they might by no means influence his
friends, as here he knew he had the misfortune to differ from
some excellent authorities. He treated Mr. Sweedlepipe to
a dram, compounded agreeably to his own directions, which
he informed him had been invented by a member of the Jockey
Club ; and, as they were by this time near the barber's desti-
nation, he observed that, as he had an hour to spare, and
knew the parties, he would, if quite agreeable, he introduced
to Mrs. Gamp.

Paul knocked at Jonas Chuzzlewit's ; and, on the door
being opened by that lady, made the two distinguished per-
sons known to one another. It was a happy feature in Mrs.

426 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

Gamp's twofold profession, that it gave her an interest in
everything that was young as well as in everything that was
old. She received Mr. Bailey with much kindness.

" It's very good, I'm sure, of you to come," she said to
her landlord, " as well as bring so nice a friend. But I'm
afraid that I must trouble you so far as to step in, for the
young couple has not yet made appearance."

" They're late, ain't they } " inquired her landlord, when
she had conducted them down stairs into the kitchen.

" Well, sir, considerin' the Wings of Love, they are," said
Mrs. Gamp.

Mr. Bailey inquired whether the Wings of Love had ever
won a plate, or could be backed to do anything remarkable ;
and being informed that it was not a horse, but merely a
poetical or figurative expression, evinced considerable diso-ust.
Mrs. Gamp was so vevf much astonished by his affable
manners and great ease, that she was about to propound to
her landlord in a whisper the staggering inquir)', whether he
was a man or a boy, when Mr. Sweedlepipe, anticipating her
design, made a timely diversion.

" He knows Mrs. Chuzziewit," said Paul aloud.

"There's nothin' he don't know; that's my opinion,"
observed Mrs. Gamp. " All the wickedness of the world is
Print to him."

Mr. Bailey received this as a compliment, and said, adjust-
ing his cravat, " reether so."

" As you knows Mrs. Chuzziewit, you knows, p'raps, what
her chris'n name is ? " Mrs. Gamp observed.

" Charity," said Bailev.

" That it ain't ! " cried Mrs. Gamp.

" Cherry, then," said Bailey. " Cherr}^'s short for it. It's
all the same."

"It don't begin with a C at all," retorted Mrs. Gamp,
shaking her head. " It begins with a M."

" Whew ! " cried Mr. Bailey, slapping a little cloud of pipe-
clay out of his left leg, " then he's been and married the merry
one ! "

As these words were mysterious, Mrs. Gamp called upon
him to explain, which Mr. Bailey proceeded to do, that lady
listening greedily to ever^-thing he said. He was yet in the
fulness of his narrative when the sound of wheels, and a
double knock at the street door, announced the arrival of the
newly-married couple. Begging him to reserve what more

X

o

z

o

X

R

O

o

o

c

o

2

4i

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

427

he had to say, for her hearing on the way home, Mrs. Gamp
took up the candle, and hurried away to receive and welcome
the young mistress of the house.

" Wishing you appiness and joy with all my art," said Mrs.
Gamp, dropping a curtsey as they entered the hall ; " and you,
too, sir. Your lady looks a little tired with the journey, Mr.
Chuzzlewit, a pretty dear ! "

" She has bothered enough about it," grumbled Mr. Jonas.
" Now, show a light, will you t "

" This way, ma'am, if you please," said Mrs. Gamp, going
up stairs before them. " Things has been made as comfort-
able as they could be ; but there's many things you'll have to
alter your owiv self when you gets time to look about you.
Ah ! sweet thing ! But you don't," added Mrs. Gamp, inter-
nally, " you don't look much like a merry one, I must say ! "

It was true : she did not. The death that had gone be-
fore the bridal seemed to have left its shade upon the house.
The air was heavy and oppressive ; the rooms were dark ; a
deep gloom filled up every chink and corner. Upon the
hearthstone, like a creature of ill omen, sat the aged clerk,
with his eyes fixed on some withered branches in the stove.
He rose and looked at her.

" So there you are, Mr. Chuff," said Jonas carelessly, as
he dusted his boots ; " still in the land of the living, eh ? "

" Still in the land of the living, sir," retorted Mrs. Gamp.
" And Mr. Chuffey may thank you for it, as many and many
a time I've told him."

Mr. Jonas was not in the best of humors, for he merely
said, as he looked round, " We don't want you any more, you
know, Mrs. Gamp."

" I'm a going immediate, sir," returned the nurse ; " un-
less there's nothink I can do for you, ma'am. Ain't there,"
said Mrs. Gamp, with a look of great sweetness, and rum-
maging all the time in her pocket ; " ain't there nothink I
can do for you, my little bird .' "

" No," said Merry, almost crying. " You had better go
a way, please ! "

With a leer of mingled sweetness and slyness ; with one
eye on the future, one on the bride, and an arch expression in
her face, partly spiritual, partly spirituous, and wholly pro-
fessional and peculiar to her art, Mrs. Gamp rummaged in
her pocket again, and took from it a printed card, whereon
was an inscription copied from her sign-board.

42 8 ^AR 2ViV CHUZZLE WIT.

" Would you be so good, my darling dovey of a dear young
married lady," Mrs. Gamp observed, in a low voice, " as put
that somewheres where you can keep it in your mind ? I'm
well beknown to many ladies, and it's my card. Gamp is my
name, and Gamp my nater. Livin' quite handy, I will make
so bold as call in now and then, and make inquiry how your
health and spirits is, my precious chick ! "

And with innumerable leers, winks, coughs, nods, smiles,
and curtseys, all leading to the establishment of a mysterious
and confidential understanding between herself and the bride,
Mrs. Gamp, invoking a blessing upon the house, leered, winked,
coughed, nodded, smiled, and curtseyed herself out of the
room.

" But I will say, and I would if I was led a Martha to the
Stakes for it," Mrs. Gamp remarked below stairs, in a whisper,
" that she don't look much like a merry one at this present
moment of time."

" Ah ! wait till you hear her laugh ! " said Bailey.

" Hem ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, in a kind of groan. " I will,
child."

They said no more in the house, for Mrs. Gamp put on her
bonnet, Mr. Sweedlepipe took up her box, and Mr. Bailey
accompanied them towards Kingsgate Street, recounting to
Mrs. Gamp as they went along, the origin and progress of his
acquaintance with Mrs. Chuzzlewit and her sister. It was a
pleasant instance of his youth's precocity, that he fancied Mrs.
Gamp had conceived a tenderness for him, and was much
tickled by her misplaced attachment.

As the door closed heavily behind them, Mrs. Jonas sat
down in a chair, and felt a change chill creep upon her, whilst
she looked about the room. It was pretty much as she had
known it, but appeared more dreary. She had thought to see
it brightened to receive her.

" It ain't good enough for you, I suppose ? " said Jonas,
watching her looks.

" Why, it is dull," said Merry, trying to be more herself.

*' It'll be duller before you're done with it," retorted Jonas,
" if you give me any of your airs. You're a nice article, to
turn sulky on first coming home ! 'Ecod, you used to have
life enough, when you could plague me with it. The gal's
down stairs. Ring the bell for supper, while I take my boots
off!"

She roused herself from looking after him as he left the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

429

room, to do what he had desired, when the old man Chuffey
laid his hand softly on her arm.

" You are not married ? " he said eagerly. " Not mar-
ried ? "

" Yes. A month ago. Good Heaven, what is the mat-
ter ? "

He answered nothing was the matter ; and turned from
her. But in her fear and wonder, turning also, she saw him
raise his trembling hands above his head, and heard him
say :

" Oh ! woe, woe, woe, upon this wicked house ! "

It was her welcome, — Home.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SHOWING THAT OLD FRIENDS MAY NOT ONLY APPEAR WITH

NEW FACES, BUT IN FALSE COLORS. THAT PEOPLE ARE

PRONE TO BITE ; AND THAT BITERS MAY SOMETIMES CE
BITTEN.

Mr. Bailey, Junior — for the sporting character, whilom
of general utility at Todgers's, had now regularly set up in life
under that name, without troubling himself to obtain from the
legislature a direct license in the form of a Private Bill, which
of all kinds and classes of bills is without exception the most
unreasonable in its charges — Mr. Bailey, Junior, just tall
enough to be seen by an inquiring eye, gazing indolently at
society from beneath the apron of his master's cab, drove
slowly up and down Pall Mall about the hour of noon, in
waiting for his "Governor." The horse of distinguished
family, who had Capricorn for his nephew, and Cauliflower for
his brother, showed himself worthy of his high relations by
champing at the bit until his chest was white with foam, and
rearing like a horse in heraldry ; the plated harness and the
patent leather glittered in the sun ; pedestrians admired ; Mr.
Bailey was complacent, but unmoved. He seemed to say,
" A barrow, good people, a mere barrow ; nothing to what we
could do, if we chose ! " and on he went, squaring his short
green arms outside the apron, as if he were hooked on to it by
his armpits.

43°

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

Mr. Bailey had a great opinion of brother to Cauliflower, and
estimated his powers highly. But he never told him so. On
the contrar}% it was his practice, in driving that animal, to
assail him with disrespectful, if not injurious expressions, as,
"Ah! would you!" "Did you think it, then?" "Where
are you going to now } " " No you won't, my lad ! " and simi-
lar fragmentary remarks. These being usually accompanied
by a jerk of the rein, or a crack of the whip, led to many
trials of strength between them, and to many contentions for
the upper hand, terminating now and then in china shops, and
other unusual goals, as Mr. Bailey had already hinted to his
friend Poll Sweedlepipe.

On the present occasion Mr. Bailey, being in spirits, was
more than commonly hard upon his charge ; in consequence
of which that fiery animal confined himself almost entirely to
his hind legs in displaying his paces, and constantly got him-
self into positions with reference to the cabriolet that very
much amazed the passengers in the street. But Mr. Bailey,
not at all disturbed, had still a shower of pleasantries to bestow
on any one who crossed his path ; as, calling to a full-grown
coalheaver in a wagon, who for a moment blocked the way,
" Now, young 'un, who trusted you with a cart ? " inquiring of
elderly ladies who wanted to cross, and ran back again, " Wliy
they didn't go to the workhouse and get an order to be buried .'' "
tempting boys with friendly words, to get up behind, and
immediately afterwards cutting them down ; and the like
flashes of a cheerful humor, which he would occasionally re-
lieve by going round St. James's Square at a hand gallop, and
coming slowly into Pall Mall by another entry, as if, in the in-
terval, his pace had been a perfect crawl.

It was not until these amusements had been very often re-
peated, and the apple-stall at the corner had sustained so
many miraculous escapes as to appear impregnable, that Mr.
Bailey was summoned to the door of a certain house in Pall
Mall, and turning short, obeyed the call and jumped out. It
was not until he had held the bridle for some minutes longer
— every jerk of Cauliflower's brother's head, and every twitch
of Cauhflower's brother's nostril, taking him ofi^ his legs in the
meanwhile — that two persons entered the vehicle, one of whom
took the reins and drove rapidly off. Nor was it until Mr. Bai-
ley had run after it some hundreds of yards in vain, that he man-
aged to lift his short leg into the iron step, and finally to get
his boots upon the little footboard behind. Then, indeed, he

MAR TIN CHUZZLE IV/r 43 1

became a sight to see, and — standing now on one foot and
now upon the other, now trjdng to look round the cab on this
side, now on that, and now endeavoring to peep over the top
of it, as it went dashing in among the carts and coaches — was
from head to heel Newmarket.

The appearance of Mr. Bailey's governor as he drove
along, fully justified that enthusiastic youth's description of
him to the wondering Poll. He had a world of jet-black shin-
ing hair upon his head, upon his cheeks, upon his chin, upon
his upper lip. His clothes, symmetrically made, were of the
newest fashion and the costliest kind. J'lowers of sold and
blue, and green and blushing red, were on his waistcoat ; pre-
cious chains apd jewels sparkled on his breast ; his fingers,
clogged with brilliant rings, were as unwieldly as summer flies
but newly rescued froni a hone3'-pot. The daylight mantled
in his gleaming hat and boots as in a polished glass. And yet
though changed his name, and changed his outward surface,
it was Tigg. Though turned and twisted upside down, and
inside out, as great men have been sometimes known to be ;
though no longer Montague Tigg, but Tigg Montague ; still it
was Tigg ; the same Satanic, gallant, military Tigg. The
brass was burnished, lacquered, -newly stamped ; yet itwas the
true Tigg metal notwithstanding.

Beside him sat a smiling gentleman of less pretentions
and of business looks, whom he addressed as David. Surely
not the David of the — how shall it be phrased i" — the triumvi-
rate of golden balls 1 Not David, tapster of the Lombards'
Arms ? Yes. The very man.

" The secretary's salary, Da\id, ' said Mr. Montague, " the
office being now established, is eight hundred pounds per an-
num, with his house-rent, coals, and candles free. His five-
and-twenty shares he holds, of course. Is that enough ? "

David smiled and nodded, and coughed behind a little
locked portfolio which he carried, with an air that proclaimed
him to be the secretary in question.

" If that's enough," said Montague, " I will propose it at
the Board to-day, in my capacity as chairman."

The secretary smiled again ; laughed, indeed, this time ;
and said, rubbing his nose slyly with one end of the portfolio :

" It was a capital thought, wasn't it .? "

" What was a capital thought, David .? " Mr. Montague in-
quired.

" The Anglo-Bengalee," tittered the secretary.

432 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"The Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life As-
surance Company, is rather a capital concern, I hope, David,"
said Montague.

" Capital, indeed ! " cried the secretary, with another laugh
— "in one sense."

" In the only important one," observ^ed the chairman ;
" which is number one, David."

"What," asked the secretary, bursting into another laugh,
" what will be the paid up capital, according to the next pros-
pectus 1 "

" A figure of two, and as many oughts after it as the
printer can get into the same line," replied his friend. " Ha,
ha ! "

At this they both laughed ; the secretary so vehemently,
that in kicking up his feet, he kicked the apron open, and
nearly started Cauliflower's brother into an oyster-shop ; not
to mention Mr. Bailey's receiving such a sudden swing, that
he held on for a moment, quite a young Fame, by one strap
and no legs.

" What a chap you are ? " exclaimed David admiringly,
when this little alarm had subsided.

" Say, genius, David, genius."

" Well, upon my soul, you arc a genius then," said David.
" I always knew you had the gift of the gab, of course ; but I
never believed you were half the man you are. How could 1 ? "

" I rise with circumstances, David. That's a point of
genius in itself," said Tigg. " If you were to lose a hundred
pound wager to me at this minute, David, and were to pay it
(which is most confoundedly improbable), I should rise, in a
mental point of view, directly."

It is due to Mr. Tigg to say that he had really risen with
his opportunities ; peculating on a grander scale, he had be-
come a grander man altogether.

" Ha, ha! " cried the secretary-, laying his hand, with grow-
ing familiarity, upon the chairman's arm. " When I look at
you, and think of your property in Bengal being — ha, ha,
ha !— "

The half-expressed idea seemed no less ludicrous to Mr.
Tigg than to his friend, for he laughed, too, heartily.

" — Being," resumed David, " being amenable — your prop-
erty in Bengal being amenable — to all claims upon the com-
pany ; when I look at you and think of that, you might tickle
me into fits by waving the feather of a pen at me. Upon my

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

433

soul you might ! "

" It's a devilish fine property," said Tigg Montague, " to
be amenable to any claims. The preserve of Tigers alone is
worth a mint of money, David."

David could only reply in the intervals of his laughter.
" Oh, what a chap you are ! " and so continued to laugh, and
hold his sides, and wipe his eyes, for some time, without offer-
ing any other observation.

"A capital idea.-" " said Tigg, returning after a time to his
companion's first remark : " no doubt it was a capital idea.
It was my idea."

" No, no. It was my idea," said David. " Hang it, let a
man have some-credit. Didn't I say to you that I'd saved a
few pounds ? — "

''You said ! Didn't I say to you," interposed Tigg, "that
/had come into a few pounds ? "

" Certainly you did," returned David, warmly, " but that's
not the idea. Who said, that if we put the money together
we could furnish an ofiice, and make a show ? "

" And who said," retorted Mr. Tigg, " that, provided we
did it on a sufficiently large scale, we could furnish an office
and make a show, without anv monev at all ? Be rational,
and just, and calm, and tell me whose idea was that."

"Why there," David was obliged to confess, "you had the
advantage of me, I admit. But I don't put myself on a level
with you. I only want a little credit in the business."

" All the credit you desen-e you have," said Tigg. " The
plain work of the company, David — figures, books, circulars,
advertisements, pen, ink and paper, sealing-wax and wafers —
is admirably done by you. You are a first-rate groveller. I
don't dispute it. But the ornamental department, David 3
the inventive and poetical department — "

" Is entirely yours," said his friend. " No question of it.
But with such a swell turn-out as this, and all the handsome
things you've got about you, and the life you lead, I mean to
say it's a precious comfortable department too."

" Does it gain the purpose ? Is it Anglo-Bengalee ? "
asked Tigg.

"Yes/' said David.

" Could you undertake it yourself? " demanded Tigg.

" No," said David.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Tigg. "Then be contented with
your station and vour profits, David, mv fine fellow, and bless

28

434

MARTIN CHUZZIEWIT.

the day that made us acquainted across the counter of our
common uncle, for it was a golden day to you."

It will have been already gathered from the conversation
of these worthies, that they were embarked in an enterprise
of some magnitude, in which they addressed the public in
general from the strong position of having everything to gain,
and nothing at all to lose ; and which, based upon this great
principle, was thriving pretty comfortably.

The Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assur-
ance Company, started into existence one morning, not an
Infant Institution, but a Grown-up Company running along at
a great pace, and doing business right and left : with a
" branch '" in a first tioor over a tailor's at the West-end of
the town, and main offices in a new street in the City, com-
prising the upper part of a spacious house, resplendent in
stucco and plate-glass, with wire blinds in all the windows,
and " Anglo-Bengalee " worked into the pattern of every one
of them. On the door-post was painted again in large letters,
" Offices of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life
Assurance Company," and on the door was a large brass
plate with the same inscription, always kept very bright, as
courting inquiry ; staring the City out of countenance after
office hours on working days, and all day long on Sundays ;
and looking bolder than the Bank. Within, the offices were
newly plastered, newly painted, newly papered, newly coun-
terecl, newly floor-clothed, newly tabled, newly chaired, newly
fitted-up in every way, with goods that were substantial and
expensive, and designed (like the company) to last. Business !
Look at the green ledgers with red backs, like strong cricket-
balls beaten flat ; the court-guides, directories, day-books,
almanacs, letter-boxes, weighing-machines for letters, rows of
fire-buckets for dashing out a conflagration in its first spark,
and saving the immense w'ealth in notes and bonds belonging
to the company ; look at the iron safes, the clock, the office
seal — in its capacious self, security for anything. Solidity !
Look at the massi\'e blocks of marble in the chimney-pieces,
and the gorgeous parapet on the top of the house ! Publicity !
Why, Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance
Company is painted on the very coal-scuttles. It is repeated
at every turn until the eyes are dazzled with it, and the head
is giddy. It is engraved upon the top of all the letter paper,
and it makes a scroll-work round the seal, and it shines out
of the porter's buttons, and it is repeated twenty times in

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

435

every circular and public notice wherein one David Crimple,
Esquire, Secretary and resident Director takes the liberty of
inviting your attention to the accompanying statement of the
advantages offered by the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan
and Life Assurance Company, and fully proves to you that
any connection on your part with that establishment must
result in a perpetual Christmas Box and constantly increasing
Bonus to yourself, and that nobody can run any risk by the
transaction except the office, which, in its great liberality, is
pretty sure to lose. And this, David Crimple, Esquire,
submits to you (and the odds are heavy you belie^'e him), is
the best guarantee that can reasonably be suggested by the
Board of Management for its permanence and stability.

This gentleman's name, by the way, had been originally
Crimp ; but as the word was susceptible of an awkward con-
struction and might be misrepresented, he had altered it to
Crimple.

Lest with all these proofs and confirmations, any man
should be suspicious of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested
Loan and Life Assurance Company ; should doubt in tiger,
cab, or person, Tigg Montague, Esquire (of I^all Mall and
Bengali) or any other name in the imaginative List of
Directors ; there was a porter on the premises — a wonderful
creature, in a vast red waistcoat and a short-tailed pepper-
and-salt coat — who carried more conviction to the minds of
skeptics than the whole establishment without him. No con-
fidence existed between him and the Directorship ; nobody
knew where he had served last ; no character or explanation
had been given .or required. No questions had been asked
on either side. This mysterious being, relying solely on his
figure, had applied for the situation, and had been instantly
engaged on his own terms. They were high ; but he knew,
doubtless, that no man could carry such an extent of waistcoat
as himself, and felt the full value of his capacity to such an
institution. When he sat upon a seat erected for him in a
corner of the office, with his glazed hat hanging on a peg over
his head, it was impossible to doubt the respectability of the
concern. It went on doubling itself with every square inch
of his red waistcoat until, like the problem of the nails in the
horse's shoes, the total became enormous. People had been
known to apply to effect an insurance on their lives for a
thousand pounds, and looking at him, to beg, before the form
of proposal was filled up, that it might be made two. And

436 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

yet he was not a giant. His coat was rather small than other-
wise. The whole charm was in his waistcoat. Respectability,
competence, property in Bengal or anywhere else, responsi-
bility to any amount on the part of the company that employed
him, were all expressed in that one garment.

Rival offices had endeavored to lure him away ; Lombard
Street itself had beckoned to him ; rich companies had
whispered " Be a Beadle ! " but he still continued faithful to
the Anglo-Bengalee. Whether he was a deep rogue, or a
stately simpleton, it was impossible to make out, but he
appeared to believe in the Anglo-Bengalee. He was grave
with imaginary cares of office ; and having nothing whatever
to do, and something less to take care of, would look as if the
pressure of his numerous duties, and a sense of the treasure
in the company's strong-room, made him a solemn and a
thoughtful man.

As the cabriolet drove up to the door, this officer appeared
bare-headed on the pavement, cr^'ing aloud " Room for the
chairman, room for the chairman, if you please ! " much to
the admiration of the bystanders, who, it is needless to say,
had their attention directed to the Anglo Bengalee Company
thenceforth, by that means. Mr. Tigg leaped gracefully out,
followed by the Managing Director (who was by this time
very distant and respectful), and ascended the stairs, still
preceded by the porter, who cried as he went, " By your
leave there ! by your leave ! The Chairman of the Board,
Gentle — men ! " In like manner, but in a still more sten-
torian voice, he ushered the chairman through the public
office, where some humble clients were transacting business,
into an awful chamber, labelled Board-room, the door of
which sanctuary immediately closed, and screened the great
capitalist from vulgar eyes.

The board-room had a Turkey carpet in it, a sideboard,
a portrait of Tigg Montague, Esquire, as chairman ; a very
imposing chair of office, garnished with an ivory hammer and
a little hand-bell ; and a long table, set out at intervals with
sheets of blotting-paper, foolscap, clean pens, and inkstands.
The chairman having taken his seat with great solemnity, the
secretary supported him on his right hand, and the porter
stood bolt upright behind them, forming a warm background
of waistcoat. This was the board : everything else being a
light-hearted little fiction.

" Bullamy ! " said Mr. Tigg.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

437

((

Sir ! " replied the Porter.

" Let the Medical Officer know, with my compliments, that
I wish to see him."
■ Bullamy cleared his throat, and bustled out into the office,
crying " The Chairman of the Board wishes to see the Medical
Officer. By your leave there ! By your leave ! " He soon
returned with the gentleman in question ; and at both open-
ings of the board-room door — at his coming in and at his
going out — simple clients were seen to stretch their necks and
stand upon their toes, thirsting to catch the slightest glimpse
of that mysterious chamber.

'' Jobling, my dear friend ! " said Mr. Tigg, " how are you ?
Bullamy, wait O^Litside. Crlmple, don't leave us. Jobling, my
good fellow, I am glad to see you."

" And how are you, Mr. Montague, eh ? " said the Medical
Officer, throwing himself luxuriously into an easy-chair (they
were all easy-chairs in the board-room), and taking a hand-
some gold snuffbox from the pocket of his black satin waist-
coat. " How are you ? A little worn with business, eh ? If
so, rest. A little feverish from wine, humph ? If so, water.
Nothing at all the matter, and quite comfortable .-' Then take
some lunch. A very wholesome thing at this time of day to
strengthen the gastric juices with lunch, Mr. Montague."

The Medical Officer (he was the same medical officer who
had followed poor old Anthony Chuzzlewit to the grave, and
who had attended Mrs. Gamp's patient at the Bull) smiled in
saying these words ; and casually added, as he brushed some
grains of snuff from his shirt-frill, " I always take it myself
about this time of day, do you know ! "

" Bullamy ! " said the Chairman, ringing the little bell.

" Sir ! "

" Lunch."

" Not on my account, I hope ? " said the doctor. " You
are very good. Thank you. I'm quite ashamed. Ha, ha !
if I had been a sharp practitioner, Mr. Montague, I shouldn't
have mentioned it without a fee ; for you may depend upon it,
my dear sir, that if you don't make a point of taking lunch,
you'll very soon come under my hands. Allow me to illustrate
this. In Mr. Crimple's leg — "

The resident Director gave an involuntary start, for the
doctor, in the heat of his demonstration, caught it up and
laid it across his own, as if he were going to take it off, then
and there.

438 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" In Mr. Crimple's leg, you'll obser\'e," pursued the doctor,
turning back his cuffs and spanning the limb with both hands,
" where Mr. Crimple's knee fits into the socket, here, there is
— that is to say, between the bone and the socket — a certain
quantity of animal oil."

" What do you pick my leg out for? " said Mr. Crimple,
looking with something of an anxious expression at his limb.-
" It's the same with other legs, ain't it ? "

" Never you mind, my good sir," returned the doctor,
shaking his head, " whether it is the same with other legs, or
not the same."

" But I do mind," said David.

" I take a particular case, Mr. Montague," returned the
doctor, " as illustrating my remark, you observe. In this
portion of Mr. Crimple's leg, sir, there is a certain amount of
animal oil. In eveiy one of Mr. Crimple's joints, sir, there
is more or less of the same deposit. Very good. If Mr.
Crimple neglects his meals, or fails to take his proper quantity
of rest, that oil wanes, and becomes exhausted. What is the
consequence.'' Mr. Crimple's bones sink down into their
sockets, sir, and Mr. Crimple becomes a weazen, puny,
stunted, miserable man ! "

The doctor let Mr. Crimple's leg fall suddenly, as if he
were already in that agreeable condition, turned down his wrist-
bands again, and looked triumphantly at the chairman.

" We know a few secrets of nature in our profession, sir,"
said the doctor. " Of course we do. We study for that ; we
pass the Hall and the College for that ; and we take our
station in society by that. It's extraordinary how little is
known on these subjects generally. Where do you suppose,
now " — the doctor closed one eye, as he leaned back smilingly
in his chair, and formed a triangle with his hands, of which
his two thumbs composed the base — " where do you suppose
Mr. Crimple's stomach is .'' "

Mr. Crimple, more agitated than before, clapped his hand
immediately below his waistcoat.

"-Not at all," cried the doctor; "not at all. Quite a
popular mistake ! My good sir, you're altogether deceived."

" I feel it there, when it's out of order ; that's all I know,"
said Crimple.

"You think you do," replied the doctor; "but science
knows better. There was a patient of mine once " — touching
one of the many mourning rings upon his fingers, and slightly

■MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 435

bowing his head — " a gentleman who did me the honor to
make a very handsome mention of me in his will — ' in testi-
mony,'as he was pleased to say, 'of the unremitting zeal,
talent, and attention of my friend and medical attendant,
John Jobling, Esquire, M.R.C.S.,' — who was so overcome by
the idea of having all his life labored under an erroneous
view of the locality of this important organ, that when I as-
sured him, on my professional reputation, he was mistaken,
he burst into tears, put out his hand, and said, ' Jobling, God
bless you ! ' Immediately afterwards he became speechless,
and was ultimatelv buried at Brixton."

" By your leave there ! " cried Bullamy, without. " By
your leave ! Refreshment for the Board-room ! "

" Ha ! " said the doctor, jocularly, as he rubbed his hands
and drew his chair nearer to the table. " The true Life As-
surance, Mr. Montague. The best Policy in the world, my
dear sir. We should be provident, and eat and drink when-
ever we can. Eh, Mr. Crimple ? "

The resident Director acquiesced rather sulkily, as if the
gratification of replenishing his stomach had been impaired
by the unsettlement of his preconceived opinions in reference
to its situation. But the appearance of the porter and under
porter with a tray covered with a snow-white cloth, which,
being thrown back, displayed a pair of cold roast fowls,
flanked by some potted meats and a cool salad, quickly re-
stored his good humor. It was enhanced still further by the
arrival of a bottle of excellent madeira, and another of cham-
pagne ; and he soon attacked the repast with an appetite
scarcely inferior to that of the medical officer.

The lunch was handsomely served, with a profusion of rich
glass, plate, and china, which seemed to denote that eating
and drinking on a showy scale formed no unimportant item in
the business of the Anglo-Bengalee Directorship. As it pro-
ceeded, the Medical Officer grew more and more joyous and
red-faced, insomuch that every mouthful he ate, and every
drop of wine he swallowed, seemed to impart new lustre to his
eyes, and to light up new sparks in his nose and forehead.

In certain quarters of the City and its neighborhood, i\Ir.
Jobling was, as we have already seen in some measure, a very
popular character. He had a portentously sagacious chin,
and a pompous voice, with a rich huskiness in some of its
tones that w-ent directly to the heart, like a ray of light shining
through the ruddy medium of choice old burgundy. His neck-

440 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

kerchief and shirt-frill were ever of the whitest, his clothes of
the blackest and sleekest, his gold watch-chain of the heaviest,
and his seals of the largest. His boots, which were always of
the brightest, creaked as he walked. Perhaps he could shake
his head, rub his hands, or warm himself before a fire, better
than any man alive ; and he had a peculiar way of smacking
his lips and saying, " Ah ! " at inten^als while patients detailed
their symptoms, which inspired great confidence. It seemed
to express, " I know what you're going to say better than you
do ; but go on, go on." As he talked on all occasions whether
he had anything to say or not, it was unanimously observed of
him that he was "full of anecdote ;" and his experience and
profit from it were considered, for the same reason, to be
something much too extensive for description. His female
patients could never praise him too highly ; and the coldest
of his male admirers would always say this for him to their
friends, " that whatever Jobling's professional skill might be
(and it could not be denied that he had a very high reputa-
tion), he was one of the most comfortable fellows you ever
saw in your life ! "

Jobling was for many reasons, and not last in the list be-
cause his connection lay principally among tradesmen and
their families, exactly the sort of person whom the Anglo-
Bengalee Company wanted for a medical officer. But Job-
ling was far too knowing to connect himself with the com-
pany in any closer ties than as a paid (and well paid) func-
tionary, or to allow his connection to be misunderstood
abroad, if he could help it. Hence he always stated the case
to an inquiring patient, after this manner :

" Why, my dear sir, with regard to the Anglo-Bengalee,
my information, you see, is limited : ver^- limited. I am the
medical officer, in consideration of a certain monthly pay-
ment. The laborer is worthy of his hire ; Bis dat qui cito dat "
— (" Classical scholar, Jobling ! " thinks the patient, " well-
read man ! ") — " and I receive it regularly. Therefore I am
bound, so far as my own knowledge goes,' to speak well of
the establishment." (" Nothing can be fairer than Jobling's
conduct," thinks the patient, who has just paid Jobling's bill
himself.) " If you put any question to me, my dear friend,"
says the doctor, " touching the responsibility or capital of the
company, there I am at fault ; for I have no head for figures,
and not being a shareholder, am delicate of showing any
curiosity whatever on the subject. . Delicacy — your amiable

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 441

lady will agree with me I am sure — should be one of the first
characteristics of a medical man." ( " Nothing can be finer
or more gentlemanly than Jobling's feeling," thinks the pa-
tient.) " Very good, my dear sir, so the matter stands. You
don't know Mr. Montague ? I'm sorry for it. A remarkably
handsome man, and quite the gentleman in every respect.
Property, I am told, in India. House and eveiything belong-
ing to him, beautiful. Costly furniture on the most elegant
and lavish scale. And pictures, which, even in an anatomi-
cal point of view, are per — fection. In case you should ever
think of doing anything with the company, I'll pass you, you
may depend upon it. I can conscientiously report you a
healthy subject." If I understand any man's constitution, it is
yours ; and this little indisposition has done him more good,
ma'am," says the doctor, turning to the patient's wife, "than
if he had swallowed the contents of half the nonsensical bot-
tles in my surger}-. For they are nonsense — to tell the hon-
est truth, one half of them are nonsense — compared with such
a constitution as his ! " ( " Jobling is the most friendly crea-
ture I ever met with in my life," thinks the patient ; " and
upon my word and honor, I'll consider of it ! ")

" Commission to you, doctor, on four new policies, and a
loan this morning, eh? " said Crimple looking, when they had
finished lunch, over some papers brought in by the porter.
" Well done ! "

"Jobling, my dear friend," said Tigg, "long life to you."

"No, no. Nonsense. Upon my word I've no right to
draw the commission," said the doctor, " I haven't really. It's
picking your pocket. I don't recommend anybody here. I
only say what I know. My patients ask me what I know,
and I tell 'em what I know. Nothing else. Caution is my
weak side, that's the truth \ and always was from a boy. That
is," said the doctor, filling his glass, " caution in behalf of
other people. Whether I would repose confidence in this
company myself, if I had not been paying money elsewhere
for many years — that's quite another question."

He tried to look as if there were no doubt about it ; but
feeling that he did it but indifferently, changed the tiieme and
praised the wine.

" Talking of wine," said the doctor, " reminds me of one
of the finest glasses of light old port I ever drank in my life ;
and that was at a funeral. You have not seen anything of — of
that party, Mr. Montague, have you ? " handing him a card.

442 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" He is not buried, I hope ? " said Tigg, as he took it.
" The honor of his company is not requested if he is."

" Ha, ha ! " laughed the doctor. " No ; not quite. He
was honorably connected with that very occasion though."

" Oh ! " said Tigg, smoothing his mustache, as he cast
his eyes upon the name. " I recollect. No. He has not
been here."

The words were on his lips, when Bullamy entered, and
presented a card to the Medical Officer.

" Talk of the what's his name," observed the doctor rising.

" And he's sure to appear, eh } " said Tigg.

"Why, no, Mr. Montague, no," returned the doctor. "We
will not say that in the present case, for this gentleman is very
far from it."

" So much the better," retorted Tigg. " So much the
more adaptable to the Anglo-Bengalee. Bullamy, clear the
table and take the things out by the other door. Mr. Crim-
ple, business."

" Shall I introduce him .'' " asked Jobling.

" I shall be eternally delighted," answered Tigg, kissing
his hand and smiling sweetly.

The doctor disappeared into the outer office, and imme-
diately returned with Jonas Chuzzlewit.

"Mr. Montague," said Jobling. "Allow me. My friend
Mr. Chuzzlewit. My dear friend — our chairman. Now do
you know," he added, checking himself with infinite policy,
and looking round with a smile, " that's a very singular in-
stance of the force of example. It really is a very remarkable
instance of the force of example. I say our chairman. Why
do I say our chairman ? Because he is not my chairman, you
know. I have no connection with the company, farther than
giving them, for a certain fee and reward, my poor opinion as
a medical man, precisely as I may give it any day to Jack
Noakes or Tom Styles. Then why do I say our chairman 1
Simply because I hear the phrase constantly repeated about
me. Such is the involuntary operation of the mental faculty
in the imitative biped man. Mr. Crimple, I believe you never
take snuff ? Injudicious. You should."

Pending these remarks on the part of the doctor, and the
lengthened and sonorous pinch with which he followed them
up, Jonas took a seat at the board, as ungainly a man as
ever he has been within the reader's knowledge. It is too
common with all of us, but it is especially in the nature of a

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

443

mean mind, to be overawed by fine clothes and fine furniture.
Tiiey had a very decided influence on Jonas.

" Now you two gentlemen have business to discuss, I
know," said the doctor, " and your time is precious. So is
mine ; for several lives are waiting for me in the next room,
and I have a round of visits to make after — after I have
taken 'em. Having had the happiness to introduce you to
each other, I may go about my business. Good-by. But
allow me, Mr. Montague, before I go, to say this of my friend
who sits beside you : That gentleman has done more, sir,"
rapping his snuff-box solemnly, " to reconcile me to human
nature, than any man alive or dead. Good-by ! "

With these words Jobling bolted abruptly out of the room,
and proceeded in his own official department, to impress the
lives in waiting with a sense of his keen conscientiousness in
the discharge of his duty, and the great difficulty of getting
into the Anglo-Bengalee ; by feeling their pulses, looking at
their tongues, listening at their ribs, poking them in the chest,
and so forth ; though, if he didn't well know beforehand that
whatever kind of lives they were, the Anglo-Bengalee would
accept them readily, he was far from being the Jobling that
his friend considered him ; and w-as not the original Jobling,
but a spurious imitation.

Mr. Crimple also departed on the business of the morn-
ing ; and Jonas Chuzzlewit and Tigg were left alone.

" I learn from our friend," said Tigg, drawing his chair
towards Jonas with a winning ease of manner, "that you have
been thinking — "

"Oh! Ecod then he'd no right to say so," cried Jonas,
interrupting. " I didn't tell him my thoughts. If he took it
into his head that I was coming here for such or such a pur-
pose, why, that's his look-out. I don't stand committed by
that."

Jonas said this offensively enough ; for over and above the
habitual distrust of his character, it was in his nature to seek
to revenge himself on the fine clothes and the fine furniture,
in exact proportion as he had been unable to withstand their
influence.

" If I come here to ask a question or two, and get a docu-
ment or two to consider of, I don't bind myself to anything.
Let's understand that, you know," said Jonas.

" My dear fellow ! " cried Tigg, clapping him on the
shoulder, " I applaud your frankness. If men like you and

444

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

I speak openly at first, all possible misunderstanding is
avoided. Why should I disguise what you know so well, but
what the crowd never dream of ? We companies are all birds
of prey : mere birds of prey. The only question is, whether,
in serving our own turn, we can serve yours too, whether in
double-lining our own nest, we can put a single lining into
yours. Oh, you're in our secret. You're behind the scenes.
We'll make a merit of dealing plainly with you, when we know
we can't help it."

It was remarked, on the first introduction of Mr. Jonas
into these pages, that there is a simplicity of cunning no less
than a simplicity of innocence, and that in all matters involving
a faith in knavery, he was the most credulous of men. If Mr.
Tigg had preferred any claim to high and honorable dealing,
Jonas would have suspected him though he had been a very
model of probity ; but when he gave utterance to Jonas's own
thoughts of everything and everybody, Jonas began to feel
that he was a pleasant fellow, and one to be talked to freely.

He changed his position in the chair ; not for a less awk-
ward, but for a more boastful attitude ; and smiling in his
miserable conceit, rejoined ;

" You an't a bad man of business, Mr. Montague. You
know how to set about it, I ivill say."

" Tut, tut," said Tigg, nodding confidentially, and showing
his white teeth : " we are not children, Mr. Chuzzlewit ; we
are grown men, I hope."

Jonas assented, and said after a short silence, first spread-
ing out his legs, and sticking one arm akimbo to show how
perfectly at home he was,

" The truth is—"

" Don't say, the truth," interposed Tigg, with another grin.
"It's so like humbug."

Greatly charmed by this, Jonas began again.

" The long and the short of it, is — "

" Better," muttered Tigg. " Much better ! "

" — That I didn't consider myself very well used by one or
two of the old companies in some negotiations I have had
with 'em. Once had, I mean. They started objections they
had no right to start, and put questions they had no right to
put, and carried things much too high for my taste."

As he made these observations he cast down his eyes, and
looked curiously at the carpet. Mr. Tigg looked curiously at
him.

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

445

He made so long a pause, that Tigg came to the rescue,
and said, in his pleasantest manner :

" Take a glass of wine."
No, no," returned Jonas, with a cunning shake of the
head ; " none of that, thankee. No wine over business. All
very well for you, but it wouldn't do for me."

" What an old hand you are, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " said Tigg,
leaning back in his chair, and leering at him through his half-
shut eyes.

Jonas shook his head again, as much to say, " You're
right there ; " and then resumed, jocosely :

"Not such an old hand, cither, but that I've been and got
married. That^s rather green, you'll say. Perhaps it is,
especially as she's young. But one never knows what may
happen to these women, so I'm thinking of insuring her life.
It is but fair, you know, that a man should secure some con-
solation in case of meeting with such a loss."

" If anything can console him under such heart-breaking
circumstances," murmured Tigg, with his eyes shut up as
before.

" Exactly," returned Jonas ; "if anything can. Now, sup-
posing I did it here, I should do it cheap, 1 know, and easy,
without bothering her about it ; which I'd much rather not do,
for it's just in a woman's way to take it into her head, if you
talk to her about such things, that she's going to die di-
rectly."

" So it is," cried Tigg, kissing his hand in honor of the
sex. " You're quite right. Sweet, silly, fluttering little sim-
pletons ! "

" Well," said Jonas, "on that account, you know, and
because offence has been given me in other quarters, I
wouldn't mind patronizing this Company. But I want to
know what sort of security there is for the Company's going
on. That's the — "

" Not the truth ? " cried Tigg, holding up his jewelled
hand. " Don't use that Sunday School expression, please ! "

" The long and the short of it," said Jonas. "The long
and the short of it is, what's the security .'' "

" The paid-up capital, my dear sir," said Tigg, referring
to some papers on the table, " is, at this present moment — "

" Oh ! I understand all about paid-up capitals, you know,"
said Jonas.

" You do 1 " cried Tigg, stopping short.

446 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I should hope so."

He turned the papers down again, and moving nearer to
him, said in his ear :

" I know you do. I know you do. Look at me ! "

It was not much in Jonas's way to look straight at anybody ;
but thus requested, he made shift to take a tolerable survey
of the chairman's features. The chairman fell back a little, to
give him the better opportunity.

" You know me ? " he inquired, elevating his eyebrows.
" You recollect ? You've seen me before .-* "

" Why, I thought I remembered your face when I first
came in," said Jonas, gazing at it : " but I couldn't call to
mind where I had seen it. No. I don't remember, even now.
Was it in the street t "

" Was it in Pecksniff's parlor ? " said Tigg.

" In Pecksniff's parlor ! " echoed Jonas, fetching a long
breath. " You don't mean when — "

" Yes," cried Tigg, " when there was a very charming and
delightful little family party, at which yourself and your re-
spected father assisted."

" Well, never mind ///>«," said Jonas. " He's dead, and
there's no help for it."

" Dead is he ! " cried Tigg. " Venerable old gentleman,
is he dead ! You're very like him."

Jonas received this compliment with anything but a good
grace ; perhaps because of his own private sentiments in ref-
erence to the personal appearance of his deceased parent ; per-
haps because he was not best pleased to find that Montague
and Tigg were one. That gentleman perceived it, and tap-
ping him familiarly on the sleeve, beckoned him to the window.
From this moment, Mr. Montague's jocularity and flow of
spirits were remarkable.

" Do you find me at all changed since that time ? " he asked.
" Speak plainly."

Jonas looked hard at his waistcoat and jewels ; and said,
" Rather, ecod ! "

"Was I at all seedy in those days ? " asked Montague.

" Precious seedy," said Jonas.

Mr. Montague pointed down into the street, where Bailey
and the cab were in attendance.

" Neat : perhaps dashing. Do you know whose it is ? "

" No."

" Mine. Do you like this room t "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

447

" It must have cost a lot of money," said Jonas.

" You're right. Mine too. Why don't you " — he whispered
this, and nudged hnn in the side with his elbow — " why don't
you take premiums, instead of paying 'em } That's what a
man like you should do. Join us ! "

Jonas stared at him in amazement.

" Is that a crowded street .-' " asked Montague, calling his
attention to the multitude without.

" Very," said Jonas, only glancing at it, and immediately
afterwards looking at him again.

" There are printed calculations," said his companion,
" which will tell you pretty nearly how many people will pass up
and down that tlioroughtare in the course of a day. /can tell
you how many of 'em will come in here, merely because they find
this office here ; knowing no more about it than they do of the
Pyramids. Ha, ha ! Join us. You shall come in cheap."

Jonas looked at him harder and harder.

" I can tell you," said Tigg in his ear, "how many of 'em
will buy annuities, effect insurances, bring us their money in a
hundred shapes and ways, force it upon us, trust us as if we
were the Mint ; yet know no more about us than you do of the
crossing-sweeper at the corner. Not so much. Ha, ha! "

Jonas gradually broke into a smile.

" Yah ! " said Montague, giving him a pleasant thrust in
the breast ; " you're too deep for us, you dog, or I wouldn't
have told you. Dine with me to^norrow in Pall Mall ! "

" I will," said Jonas.

" Done ! " cried Montague. " Wait a bit. Take these
papers with you, and look 'em over. See," he said, snatching
some printed forms from the table. " P is a little tradesman,
clerk, parson, artist, author, any common thing you like."

" Yes," said Jonas, looking greedily over his shoulder.
" Well ! "

" B wants a loan. Say fifty or a hundred pound ; perhaps
more \ no matter, B proposes self and two securities. B is
accepted. Two securities give a bond. \\ assures his own
life for double the amount, and brings two friends' lives also
— just to patronize the office. Ha, ha, ha ! Is that a good
notion t "

" Ecod, that's a capital notion ! " cried Jonas. " But does
he really do it .'' "

" Do it ! " repeated the chairman. " B's hard-up my good
fellow, and will do anything. Don't you see } It's my idea."

448 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" It does you honor. I'm blest if it don't," said Jonas.

" I think it does," repUed the chairman, " and I'm proud
to hear you say so. B pays the highest lawful interest — "

" That an't much," interrupted Jonas.

" Right ! quite right ! " retorted Tigg. " And hard it is
upon the part of the law that it should be so confoundedly
down upon us unfortunate victims ; when it takes such amaz-
ing good interest for itself from all its clients. But charity
begins at home, and justice begins next door. Well ! The law
being hard upon us, we're not exactly soft upon B ; for besides
charging B the regular interest, we get B's premium, and
B's friends' premiums, and we charge B for the bond, and,
whether we accept him or not, we charge B for ' inquiries '(we
keep a man, at a pound a week, to make 'em), and we charge
B a trifle for the secretary ; and, in short, my good fellow, we
stick it into B, up hill and down dale, and make a devilish
comfortable little property out of him. Ha, ha, ha ! I drive
B, in point of fact," said Tigg, pointing to the cabriolet,
" and a thorough-bred horse he is. Ha, ha, ha ! "

Jonas enjoyed this joke very much indeed. It was quite
in his peculiar vein of humor.

"Then," said Tigg Montague, "we grant annuities on the
very lowest and most advantageous terms known in the money
market ; and the old ladies and gentlemen down in the coun-
try, buy 'em. Ha, ha, ha ! And we pav 'em too — perhaps.
Ha, ha, ha ! "

" But there's responsibility in that," said Jonas, looking
doubtful.

" I take it all myself," said Tigg Montague. " Here I am,
responsible for everything. The only responsible person in
the establishment ! Ha, ha, ha ! Then there are the Life
Assurances without loans : the common policies. Very prof-
itable, very comfortable. Money clown, you know ; repeated
every year ; capital fun ! "

" But when they begin to fall in," observed Jonas. " It's
all very well, while the office is young, but when the policies
begin to die ; that's what I am thinking of."

"At the first start, my dear fellow," said Montague, "to
show you how correct your judgment is, we had a couple of
unlucky deaths that brought us down to a grand piano."

" Brought you down where ? " cried Jonas.

"I give you my sacred word of honor," said Tigg Mon-
tague, " that I raised money on every other individual piece

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 449

of property, and was left alone in the world with a grand
piano. And it was an upright-grand too, so that I couldn't
even sit upon it. But, my dear fellow, we got over it. We
granted a great many new policies that week (liberal allow-
ance to solicitors, by the bye), and got over it in no time.
Whenever they should chance to fall in heavily, as you very
justly observe they may, one of these days ; then — " he fin-
ished the sentence in so low a whisper, that only one discon-
nected word was audible, and that imperfectly. But it sounded
like " Bolt."

" Why, you're as bold as brass ! " said Jonas, in the ut-
most admiration.

" A man can well afTord to be as bold as brass, my good
fellow, when he gets gold in exchange ! " cried the chairman,
with a laugh that shook him from head to foot. " You'll dine
with me to-morrow ? "

'* At what time .'' " asked Jonas.

" Seven. Here's my card. Take the documents. I see
you'll join us ! "

" I don"t know about that," said Jonas. " There's a good
deal to be looked into first."

"You shall look," said Montague, slapping him on the
back, " into anything and everything you please. But you'll
join us, I am convinced. You were made for it. Bullamy ! "

Obedient to the summons and the little bell, the waistcoat
appeared. Being charged to show Jonas out, it went before ;
and the voice within it cried, as usual, " By your leave there,
by your leave ! Gentleman from the board-room, by your
leave ! "

Mr. Montague being left alone, pondered for some mo-
ments, and then said, raising his voice,

" Is Nadgett in the office there ? "

" Here he is, sir." And he promptly entered : shutting
the board-room door after him, as carefully as if he were about
to plot a murder.

He was the man at a pound a week who made the inqui-
ries. It was no virtue or merit in Nadgett that he transacted
all his Anglo-Bengalee business secretly and in the closest
confidence ; for he was born to be a secret. He was a short,
dried-up, withered, old man, who seemed to have secreted his
very blood \ for nobody would have given him credit for the
possession of six ounces of it in his whole body. How he
lived was a secret ; where he lived was a secret ; and even

29

4 r- o MA y? r/A^ CHUZZLE WIT.

what he was, was a secret. In his musty old pocket-book he
carried contradictory cards, in some of which he called him-
self a coal-merchant, in others a wine-merchant, in others a
commission-agent, in others a collector, in others an account-
ant : as if he really didn't know the secret himself. He was
always keeping appointments in the City, and the other man
never seemed to come. He would sit on 'Change for hours,
looking at everA'body who walked in and out, and would do
the like at Garraway's, and in other business coffee-houses, in
some of which he would be occasionally seen diying a very
damp pocket-handkerchief before the fire, and still looking
over his shoulder for the man who never appeared. He was
mildewed, threadbare, shabby ; always had flue upon his legs
and back ; and kept his linen so secret by buttoning up and
wrapping over, that he might have had none — perhaps he
hadn't. He carried one stained beaver glove, which he
dangled before him by the forefinger as he walked or sat ; but
even its fellow was a secret. Some people said he had been
a bankrupt, others that he had gone an infant into an ancient
Chancery suit which was still depending, but it was all a se-
cret. He carried bits of sealing-wax and a hieroglyphical old
copper seal in his pocket, and often secretly indited letters in
corner boxes of the trj-sting-places before mentioned ; but
they never appeared to go to anybody, for he would put them
into a secret place in his coat, and deliver them to himself
weeks afterwards, very much to his own surprise, quite yel-
low. He was that sort of man that if he had died worth a
million of money, or had died worth twopence halfpenny,
ever}'body would have been perfectly satisfied, and would
have said it was just as they expected. And yet he belonged
to a class : a race peculiar to the City ; who are secrets as
profound to one another, as they are to the rest of mankind.

" Mr. Nadgett," said Montague, copying Jonas Chuzzle-
wit's address upon a piece of paper, from the card which was
still lying on the table, " any information about this name, I
shall be glad to have myself. Don't you mind what it is.
Any- you can scrape together, bring me. Bring it to me, Mr.
Nadgett."

Nadgett put on his spectacles, and read the name atten-
tively ; then looked at the chairman over his glasses, and
bowed ; then took them off, and put them in their case ; and
then put the case in his pocket. When he had done so, he
looked, without his spectacles, at the paper as it lay before

MAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

45'

him, and at the same tune produced liis pocket-book from
somewhere about the middle of his spine. Large as it was,
it was very full of documents, but he found a place for this
one ; and having clasped it carefully, passed it by a kind of
solemn legerdemain into the same region as before.

He withdrew with another bow and without a word ;
opening the door no wider than was sufficient for his passage
out ; and shutting it as carefully as before. The chairman
of the board employed the rest of the morning in affixing his
sign-manual of gracious acceptance to various new proposals
of annuity-purchase and assurance. The Company was look-
ing up, for they flowed in gayly.

CHAPTER XXVni.

MR. MONTAGUE AT HOME. AND MR. JONAS CHTTZZLEWIT AT

HOME.

There were many powerful reasons for Jonas Chuzzlewit
being strongly prepossessed in favor of the scheme which its
great originator had so boldly laid open to him ; but three
among them stood prominently forward. Firstly, there was
money to be made by it. Secondly, the money had the pe-
culiar charm of being sagaciously obtained at other people's
cost. Thirdly, it involved much outward show of homage and
distinction : a board being an awful institution in its own
sphere, and a director a mighty man. " 'I'o make a swingeing
profit, have a lot of chaps to order about, and get into regular
good society by one and the same means, and them so easy
to one's hand, ain't such a bad look out," thought Jonas.
The latter considerations were only second to his avarice ;
for, conscious that there was nothing in his person, conduct,
character, or accomplishments, to command respect, he was
greedy of power, and was in his heart, as much a tyrant as
any laurelled conqueror on record.

But he determined to proceed with cunning and caution,
and to be very keen in his observation of the gentility of Mr.
Montague's private establishment. For it no more occurred
to this shallow knave that Montague wanted him to be so, or

452

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

he wouldn't have invited him while his decision was yet in
abeyance, than the possibility of that genius being able to
overreach him in any way, pierced through his self-conceit by
the inlet of a needle's point. He had said, in the outset, that
Jonas was too sharp for him ; and Jonas, who would have
been sharp enough to believe him in nothing else, though he
had solemnly sworn it, believed him in that, instantly.

It was with a faltering hand, and yet with an imbecile
attempt at a swagger, that he knocked at his new friend's
door in Pall Mall "when the appointed hour arrived. Mr.
Bailey quickly answered to the summons. He was not proud,
and was kindly disposed to take notice of Jonas ; but Jonas
had forgotten him.

" Mr. Montague at home ? "

" I should hope he wos at home, and waiting dinner, too,"
said Bailey, with the ease of an old acquaintance. " Will you
take your hat up along with you, or leave it here ?"

]\Ir. Jonas preferred leaving it there.

" The hold name, I suppose .'' " said Bailey, with a grin.

Mr. Jonas stared at him, in mute indignation.

" What, don't you remember hold mother Todgers's .-' "
said Mr. Bailey, with his favorite action of the knees and
boots. " Don't you remember my taking your name up to
the young ladies, when you come a courting there ? A reg'lar
scaly old shop, warn't it ? Times is changed, ain't they .-' I
say, how you've growed ! "

Without pausing for any acknowledgment of this com-
pliment, he ushered the visitor up stairs ; and having an-
nounced him, retired with a private wink.

The lower story of the house was occupied by a wealthy
tradesman, but Mr. Montague had all the upper portion, and
splendid lodging it was. The room in which he receiveq'
Jonas was a spacious and elegant apartment, furnished witK
extreme magnificence, decorated with pictures, copies from
the antique in alabaster and marble, china vases, lofty mirrors,
crimson hangings of the richest silk, gilded carvings, luxurious
couches, glistening cabinets inlaid with precious woods,
costly toys of every sort in negligent abundance. The only
guests besides Jonas were the doctor, the resident Director,
and two other gentlemen, whom Montague presented in due
form.

" My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Jobling
you know, I believe ? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

453

" I think so," said the doctor pleasantly, as he stepped
out of the circle to shake hands. " 1 trust I have that honor.
I hope so. My dear sir, I see you well. Quite well ? Thai's
well ! "

" Mr. Wolf," said Montague, as soon as the doctor would
allow him to introduce the two others, " Mr. Chuzzlewit. Mr.
Pip, Mr. Chuzzlewit."

Both gentlemen were exceedingly happy to have .the honor
of making Mr. Chuzzlewit's acquaintance. The Doctor drew
Jonas a little apart, and whispered behind his hand:

" Men of the world, my dear sir — men of the world. Hem !
Mr. Wolf — literary character — you needn't mention it — re-
markably cleveF weekly paper — oh, remarkably clever ! Mr.
Pip — theatrical man — capital man to know — oh, capital
man ! "

" Well ! " said Wolf, folding his arms and resuming a
conversation which the arrival of Jonas had interrupted.
" And what did Lord Nobley say to that .' "

"Why," returned Pip, with an oath. "He didn't know
what to say. Damme, sir, if he wasn't as mute as a poker.
But you know what a good fellow Nobley is ! "

"The best fellow in the world!" cried \\V)lf. " It was
only last week that Nobley said to me, ' P.y Gad, Wolf, I've
got a living to bestow, and if you had but been brought up at
the University, strike me blind if I wouldn't have made a
parson of you ! ' "

"Just like him," said Pip with another oath. "And he'd
have done it ! "

" Not a doubt of it," said Wolf. " But you were going to
tell us ?— "

" Oh, yes ! " cried Pip. " To be sure. So I was. At
first he was dumb — sewn up, dead sir, — but after a minute he
said to the Duke, ' Here's Pip. Ask Pip. Pip's our mutual
friend. Ask Pip. He knows.' 'Damme!' said the Duke,
' I appeal to Pip then. Come, Pip. Bandy or not bandy ?
Speak out I ' ' Bandy, your Grace, by the Lord Harry ! ' said
L 'Ha, ha!' laughed the Duke. 'To be sure she is.
Bravo, Pip. Well said, Pip. I wish I may die if you're not
a trump, Pip. Pop me down among your fashionable visitors
whenever Pm in town, Pip.' And so I do, to this day."

The conclusion of this story gave immense satisfaction,
which was in no degree lessened by the announcement of
dinner. Jonas repaired to the dining-room, along with his

454

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

distinguished host, and toolc his seat at the board between
that individual and his friend the doctor. The rest fell into
their places like men who were well accustomed to the house ;
and dinner was done full justice to, by all parties.

It was as good a one as money (or credit, no matter
which) could produce. The dishes, wines, and fruits were of
the choicest kind. Everything was elegantly served. The
plate was gorgeous. Mr. Jonas was in the midst of a calcula-
tion of the value of this item alone, when his host disturbed
him.

" A glass of wine ? "

" Oh ! " said Jonas, who had had several glasses already.
" As much of that as you like ! It's too good to refuse."

" Well said, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " cried Wolf.

" Tom Gag, upon my soul ! " said Pip.

" Positively, you know, that's — ha, ha, ha ! " observed the
doctor, laying down his knife and fork for one instant, and
then going to work again, pell-mell — " that's epigrammatic ;
quite ! "

" You're tolerably comfortable, I hope ? " said Tigg, apart
to Jonas.

"Oh! You needn't trouble your head about ;«t'," he
replied. " Famous ! "

" I thought it best not to have a party," said Tigg. " You
feel that ? "

" Why, what do you call this ? " retorted Jonas. " You
don't mean to say you do this every day, do you .'' "

" My dear fellow," said Montague, shrugging his shoulders,
" every day of my life, when I dine at home. This is my
common style. It was of no use having anything uncommon
for you. You'd have seen through it. ' You'll have a party ? '
said Crimple. 'No, 1 won't,' I said; 'he shall take us in
the rough ? '"

" And pretty smooth too, ecod ! " said Jonas, glancing
round the table. "This don't cost a trifle."

"Why, to be candid with you, it does not," returned the
other. " But I like this sort of thing. It's the way I spend
my money."

Jonas thrust his tongue into his cheek, and said, " Was
it .? "

" When you join us, you won't get rid of your share of the
profits in the same way ? " said Tigg.

" Quite different," retorted Jonas.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

455

"Well, and you're right," said Tigg, with a friendly can-
dor. " You needn't. It's not necessary. One of a Company
must do it to hold the connection together ; but as I take a
pleasure in it, that's my department. You don't mind dining
expensively at another man's expense, I hope 1 "

" Not a bit," said Jonas.

" Then I hope you'll often dine with me ? "

" Ah ! " said Jonas, " I don't mind. On the contrar}'.

" And I'll never attempt to talk business to you over wine,
said Tigg. " Oh deep, deep, deep of you this morning ! I
must tell 'em that. They're the very men to enjoy it. Pip,
my good fellow, I've a splendid little trait to tell you of my
friend Chuzzlewit, who is the deepest dog I know. I give you
my sacred word of honor he is the deepest dog I know Pip ! "

Pip swore a frightful oath that he was sure of it already ;
and the anecdote, being told, was received with loud applause,
as an incontestable proof of Mr. Jonas's greatness. Pip, in
a natural spirit of emulation, then related some instances of
his own depth ; and Wolf, not to be left behind-hand, recited
the leading points of one or two vastly humorous articles he
was then preparing. These lucubrations, being of what he
called " a warm complexion," were highly approved ; and all
the company agreed that they were full of point.

" Men of the world, my dear sir," Jobling whispered to
Jonas ; " thorough men of the world ! To a professional
person like myself, it's quite refreshing to come into this kind
of society. It's not only agreeable — and nothing can be more
agreeable — but it's philosophically improving. It's character,
my dear sir ; character ! "

It is so pleasant to find real merit appreciated, whatever
its particular walk in life may be, that the general harmony of
the company was doubtless much promoted by their knowing
that the two men of the world were held in great esteem by
the upper classes of society, and by the gallant defenders of
their country in the army and navy, but particularly the former.
The least of their stories had a colonel in it ; lords were as
plentiful as oaths ; and even the Blood Royal ran in the muddy
channel of their personal recollections.

" Mr. Chuzzlewit didn't know him, I'm afraid," said Wolf,
in reference to a certain personage of illustrious descent, who
had previously figured in a reminiscence.

" No," said Tigg. " But we must bring him into contact
with this sort of fellows."

456 ^JAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

" He was very fond of literature," observed Wolf.

" Was he ? " said Tigg.

" Oh, yes ; he took my paper regularly for many years.
Do you know he said some good things now and then ? He
asked a certain Viscount, who's a friend of mine — Pip knows
him — ' What's the editor's name, what's the editor's name ? '
' Wolf.' 'Wolf, eh ? Sharp biter. Wolf. We must keep the
Wolf from the door, as the proverb says.' It was very well.
And being complimentary, I printed it."

" But the Viscount's the boy ! " cried Pip, who invented a
new oath for the introduction of everything he said. " The
Viscount's the boy ! He came into our place one night to take
Her home ; rather slued, but not much ; and said, ' Where's
Pip ? I want to see Pip. Produce Pip ! ' — ' What's the row,
my lord ? ' — ' Shakspeare's an infernal humbug, Pip ! What's
the good of Shakspeare, Pip .-' I never read him. What
the devil is it all about, Pip .-' There's a lot of feet in Shak-
speare's verse, but there ain't any legs worth mentioning in
Shakspeare's plays, are there, Pip ? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady
Macbeth, and all the rest of 'em, whatever their names are,
might as well have no legs at all, for anything the audience
know about it, Pip. Why, in that respect they're all Miss
Biffins to the audience, Pip. I'll tell you what it is. What
the people call dramatic poetry is a collection of sermons.
Do 1 go to the theatre to be lectured t No, Pip. If I wanted
that, I'd go to church. What's the legitimate object of the
drama, Pip ? Human nature. What are legs ? Human na-
ture. Then let us have plenty of leg pieces, Pip, and I'll
stand by you, my buck ! ' And I am proud to say," added
Pip, " that he did stand by me, handsomely."

The conversation now becoming general, Mr. Jonas's
opinion was requested on this subject ; and as it was in full
accordance with the sentiments of Mr. Pip, that gentleman
was extremely gratified. Indeed, both himself and Wolf had
so much in common with Jonas, that they became very ami-
cable ; and between their increasing friendship and the fumes
of wine, Jonas grew talkative.

It does not follow in the case of such a person that the
more talkative he becomes, the more agreeable he is ; on the
contrary, his merits show to most advantage, perhaps, in silence.
Having no means, as he thought, of putting himself on an
equality with the rest, but by the assertion of that depth and
sharpness on which he had been complimented, Jonas ex-

MARTTN CHUZZLEVVIT. 457

hibited that faculty to the utmost ; and was so deep and sliarp
that he lost himself in his own profundity, and cut his fingers
with his own edge tools.

It was especially in his way and character to exhibit his
quality at his entertainer's expense ; and while he drank of
his sparkling wines, and partook of his monstrous profusion,
to ridicule the extravagance which had set such costly fare
before him. Even at such a wanton board, and in such more
than doubtful company, this might have proved a disagreeable
experiment, but that Tigg and C'rimple, studying to understand
their man thoroughly, gave him what license he chose, know-
ing that the more he took, the better for their purpose. And
thus while the ^Dlundering cheat — gull that he was, for all his
cunning — thought himself rolled up hedgehog fashion, with
his sharpest points towards them, he was, in fact, betraying
all his vulnerable parts to their unwinking watchfulness.

Whether the two gentlemen who contributed so much to
the doctor's philosophical knowledge (by the way, the docter
slipped off quietly, after swallowing his usual amount of wine)
had had their cue distinctly from the host, or took it from what
they saw and heard, they acted their parts very well. They
solicited the honor of Jonas's better acquaintance, trusted
that they would have the pleasure of introducing him into that
elevated society in which he was so well qualified to shine ;
and informed him, in the most friendlv manner, that the ad-
vantages of their respective establishments were entirely at
his control. In a word, they said " Be one of us ! " And
Jonas said he was infinitely obligetl to them, and he would be,
adding within himself, that so long as they " stood treat,"
there was nothing he would like better.

After coffee, which was served in the drawing-room, there
w^as a short interval (mainly sustained by Pip and Wolf) of
conversation ; rather highly spiced and strongly seasoned.
When it flagged, Jonas took it up and showed considerable
humor in appraising the furniture ; inquiring whether such an
article was paid for ; what it had originally cost ; and the like.
In all of this, he was, as he considered, desperately hard on
Montague, and very demonstrative of his own brilliant ])arts.

Some Champagne Punch gave a new though temporary
fillip to the entertainments of the evening. For after leading
to some noisy proceedings, which were not intelligible, it ended
in the unsteady departure of the two gentlemen of the world,
and the slumber of Mr. Jonas upon one of the sofas.

458

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

As he could not be made to understand where he was, j\Ir.
Bailey received orders to call a hackney-coach, and take him
home, which that young gentleman roused himself from an
uneasy sleep in the hall, to do. It being now almost three
o'clock in the morning.

" Is he hooked, do you think ? " whispered Crimple, as
himself and partner stood in a distant part of the room ob-
serving him as he lay.

" Ay ! " said Tigg, in the same tone. " With a strong iron,
perhaps. Has Nadgett been here to-night ? "

" Yes. I went out to him. Hearing you had company, he
went away."

" Why did he do that 1 "

" He said he would come back early in the morning, before
you were out of bed."

" Tell them to be sure and send him up to my bedside.
Hush ! Here's the boy ! Now Mr. Bailey, take this gentle-
man home, and see him safely in. Hallo here ! Why Chuz-
zlewit, halloa ! "

They got him upright with some difficulty, and assisted
him down stairs, where they put his hat upon his head, and
tumbled him into the coach. Mr. Bailey, having shut him in,
mounted the box beside the coachman, and smoked his cigar
with an air of particular satisfaction ; the undertaking in
which he was engaged having a free and sporting character
about it, which was quite congenial to his taste.

Arriving in due time at the house in the City, Mr. Bailey
jumped down, and expressed the lively nature of his feelings,
in a knock, the like of which had probably not been heard
in that quarter since the great fire of London. Going out
into the road to observe the effect of this feat, he saw that a
dim light, previously visible at an upper window, had been
already removed and was travelling down stairs. To obtain
a foreknowledge of the bearer of this taper, Mr. Bailey
skipped back to the door again, and put his eye to the
keyhole.

It ■ was the merr}' one herself. But sadly, strangely
altered ! So careworn and dejected, so faltering and full of
fear ; so fallen, humbled, broken, that to iiave seen her, quiet
in her coffin, would have been a less surprise.

She set the light upon a bracket in the hall, and laid her
hand upon her heart, upon her eyes, upon her burning head.
Then she came on towards the door, with such a wild and

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 4-g

hurried step, that Mr. Bailey lost his self-possession, and still
had his eye where the keyhole had been, when she opened it.

" Aha ! " said Mr. Bailey, with an effort. " There you
are, are you ! What's the matter } Ain't you well, though ! "

In the midst of her astonishment as she reco2:nized him in
his altered dress, so much of her old smile came back to her
face that Bailey was glad. But next moment he was sorry
again, for he saw tears standing in her poor dim eyes.

*' Don't be frightened," said Bailey. " There ain't nothing
the matter. I've brought home Mr. Chuzzlewit. He ain't
ill. He's only a little swipey you know." Mr. Bailey reeled
in his boots, to express intoxication.

" Have yoj.1 come from Mrs. Todgers's ? " asked Merr}',
trembling.

"Todgers's, bless you? No!" cried Mr. Bailey. "I
haven't got nothing to do with Todgers's. I cut that connection
long ago. He's been a dining with my governor at the West-
end. Didn't 3'ou know he was a coming to see us ? "

"No," she said, faintly.

" Oh yes ! We're heavy swells too, and so I tell you.
Don't you come out, a catching cold in 3-our head. J'W wake
him ! " Mr. Bailey expressing in his demeanor a perfect con-
fidence that he could carry him in with ease, if necessaiy,
opened the coach door, let down the steps, and giving Jonas
a shake, cried " We've got home, my flower ! Tumble up
then ! "

He was so far recovered as to be able to respond to this
appeal, and to come stumbling out of the coach in a heap, to
the great hazard of Mr. Bailey's person. When he got upon
the pavement, Mr. Bailey first butted at him in front, and tlien
dexterously propped him up behind ; and having steadied him
by these means, he assisted him into the house.

"You go up first with the light," said Bailey to Mrs.
Jonas, " and we'll foller. Don't trenible so. He won't hurt
you. When /'\e had a drop too much, I'm full of good natur
myself."

She went on before, and her husband and Bailey, by dint
of tumbling over each other, and knocking themselves about,
got at last into the sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas
staggered into a seat.

"There!" said Mr. Bailey. " He's all right now. You
ain't got nothing to cry for, bless you ! He's righter than a
trivet I '

460 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

The ill-favored brute, with dress awry, and sodden face,
and rumpled hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his
idiotic eyes about, until, becoming conscious by degrees, he
recognized his wife, and shook his fist at her.

" Ah ! " cried Mr. Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden
emotion. "What, 3-ou're wicious, are you.' Would you
though ! You'd better not ! "

" Pra3% go away ! " said Merry. " Bailey, my good boy,
go home. Jonas ! " she said, timidly laying her hand upon
his shoulder, and bending her head down, over him, " Jonas ! "

" Look at her ! " cried Jonas, pushing her off with his ex-
tended arm. " Look here ! Look at her ! Here's a bargain
for a man ! "

" Dear Jonas ! "

" Dear Devil ! " he replied, with a fierce gesture. " You're
a pretty clog to be tied to a man for life, you mewling, white-
faced cat ! Get out of my sight ! "

"I know you don't mean it, Jonas. You wouldn't say it
if you were sober."

With affected gayety she gave Bailey a piece of money,
and again implored him to be gone. Her entreaty was so
earnest, that the boy had not the heart to stay there. But he
stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and listened.

" I wouldn't say it if I was sober ! " retorted Jonas. " You
know better. Have I never said it when I was sober ? "

" Often, indeed ! " she answered through her tears.

" Hark ye ! " cried Jonas, stamping his foot upon the
ground. " You made me bear your pretty humors once, and
ecod I'll make you bear mine now. 1 always promised myself
I would. I married you that I might. I'll know who's master,
and who's slave ! "

" Heaven knows I am obedient ! " said the sobbing girl.
" Much more so than I ever thought to be ! "

Jonas laughed in his drunken exultation. " What ! you're
finding it out, are you ! Patience, and you will in time !
Griffins have claws, my girl. There's not a pretty slight you
ever put upon me, nor a pretty trick you ever played me, nor
a pretty insolence you ever showed me, that I won't pay back
a hundred-fold. What else did I marr}' you for. You, too ! "
he said, with coarse contempt.

It might have softened him to hear her turn a little frag-
ment of a song he used to say he liked : trying, with a heart
60 full, to win him back.

MA R TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 46 1

" Oho ! " he said, " you're deaf, are you ? You don't hear
me, eh ? So much the better for you. I hate you. I hate
myself, for haxiiii;- been fool enough to strap a pack upon my
back for the pleasure of treading on it whenever I choose.
Why, things have opened to me, now, so that I might marry
almost where I liked. But I wouldn't; I'd keep single. I
ought to be single, among the friends /know. Instead of
that, here I am, tied like a log to you. Pah ! Why do you
show your pale face when 1 come home .' Am I never to for-
get you .'' "

" How late it is ! " she said cheerfully, opening the
shutter after an interval of silence. "Broad day, Jonas ! "'

" Broad dg.y or black night, what do / care ! " was the
kind rejoinder.

" The night passed quickly, too. 1 don't mind sitting up,
at all."

" Sit up for me again, if you dare ! " growled Jonas.

" I was reading," she proceeded. " all night long. I be-
gan when you went out, and read till you came home again.
The strangest story, Jonas ! And true, the book says. I'll
tell it you to-morrow."

" True, was it ? " said Jonas, doggedly.

" So the book says."

"Was there anything in it, about a man's being determined
to conquer his wife, break her spirit, bend her temper, crush
all her humors like so many nut-shells — kill her, for aught I
know } " said Jonas.

" No. Not a word," she answered quickly.

" Ah I " he returned. " That'll be a true story though,
before long ; for all the book says nothing about it. It's a
lying book, I see. A fit book for a lying reader. But you're
deaf. I forgot that."

There was another interval of silence ; and the boy was
stealing away, when he heard her footstep on the floor, and
stopped. She went up to him, as it seemed, and spoke lov-
ingly .; saying that she would defer to him in everything, and
would consult his wishes and obey them, and ihey might be
very happy if he would be gentle with her. He answered with
an imprecation, and —

Not with a blow .-" Yes. Stern truth against the.base-
souled villain : with a blow.

No angry cries ; no loud reproaches. Even her weeping and
her sobs were stifled by her clinging round him. She only

462 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

said, repeating it in agony of heart, How could he, could he,
could he ! And lost utterance in tears.

Oh woman, God beloved in old Jerusalem ! The best among
us need deal lightly with thy faults, if only for the punishment
thy nature will endure, in bearing heavy evidence against us,
on the Day of Judgment !

CHAPTER XXIX.

IN WHICH SOME PEOPLE ARE PRECOCIOUS, OTHERS PROFESSIONAL,
AND OTHERS MYSTERIOUS : ALL IN THEIR SEVERAL WAYS.

It may have been the restless remembrance of what he
had seen and heard overnight, or it may have been no deeper
mental operation than the discovery that he had nothing to do,
which caused Mr. Bailey, on the following afternoon, to feel
particularly disposed for agreeable society, and prompted him
to pay a visit to his friend Poll Sweedlepipe.

On the little bell giving clamorous notice of a visitor's ap-
proach (for Mr. P>ailey came in at the door with a lunge, to
get as much sound out of the bell as possible), Poll Sweedle-
pipe desisted from the contemplation of a favorite owl, and
gave his young friend hearty welcome.

"Why, you look smarter by day," said Poll, "than you do
by candle-light. I never see .such a tight young dasher."

" Reether so, Polly. How's our fair friend Sairah ? "

" Oh, she's pretty well," said Poll. " She's at home."

" There's the remains of a fine woman about Sairah, Poll,"
observed Mr. Bailey, with genteel indifference.

" Oh ! " thought Poll, " he's old. He must be very old ! "

" Too much crumb, you know," said Mr. Bailey ; " too fat,
Poll. But there's many worse at her time of life."

" The very owl's a opening his eyes ! " thought Poll. " I
don't wonder at it, in a bird of his opinions."

He happened to have been sharpening his razors, which
were l}ing open in a row, while a huge strop dangled from the
wall. Glancing at these preparations, Mr. Bailey stroked his
chin, and a thought appeared to occur to him.

"Poll," he said, " I ain't as neat as I could wish about the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

463

gills. Being here, I may as well have a shave, and get trimmed
close."

The barber stood aghast ; but Mr. Bailey divested himself
of his neck-cloth, and sat down in the easy shaving chair with
all the dignity and confidence in life. There was no resisting
his manner. The evidence of sight and touch became as
nothing. His chin was as smooth as a new-laid egg or a
scraped Dutch cheese ; but Poll Sweedlepipe wouldn't have
ventured to deny, on afhdavit, that he had the beard of a
Jewish rabbi.

" Go with the grain, Poll, all round, please," said Mr.
Bailey, screwing up his face for the reception of the lather.
" You may do \\;ot you like with the bits of whisker. I don't
care for 'em."

The meek little barber stood gazing at him with the brush
and soap-dish in his hand, stirring them round and round in a
ludicrous uncertainty, as if he were disabled by some fascina-
tion from beginning. At last he made a dash at Mr. Bailey's
cheek. Then he stopped again, as if the ghost of a beard had
suddenly receded from his touch ; but receiving mild encour-
agement from Mr. Bailey, in the form of an adjuration to
"Go in and win," he lathered him bountifully. Mr. Bailey
smiled through the suds in his satisfaction.

"• Gently over the stones, Poll. Go a tip-toe over the
pimples ! "

Poll Sweedlepipe obeyed, and scraped the lather off again
with particular care. Mr. Bailey squinted at every successive
dab, as it was deposited on a cloth on his left shoulder, and
seemed, with a microscopic eye, to detect some bristles in it ;
for he murmured more than once, " Reether redder than 1
could wish. Poll." The operation being concluded. Poll fell
back and stared at him again, while Mr. Bailey, wiping his
face on the jack-towel, remarked, " that arter late hours nothing
freshened up a man so much as a easy shave."

He was in the act of tying his cravat at the glass, without
his coat, and Poll had wiped his razor, ready for the next cus-
tomer, when Mrs. Gamp, coming down stairs, looked in at the
shop-door to give the barber neighborly good-day. Feeling
for her unfortunate situation, in having conceived a regard for
himself which it was not in ihe nature of things that he could
return, Mr. Bailey hastened to soothe her with words of kind-
ness.

" Hallo ! " he said, " Sairah ! I needn't ask you how you've

464 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

been this long time, for you're in full bloom. All a blowin'
and a growin' ; ain't she, Polly? "

" Why, drat the Bragian boldness of that boy ! " cried Mrs.
Gamp, though not displeased. " What a imperent young
sparrow it is ! I wouldn't be that creetur's mother not for fifty
jwund ! "

Mr. Bailey regarded this as a delicate confession of her
attachment, and a hint that no pecuniary gain could recom-
pense her for its being rendered hopeless. He felt flattered.
Disinterested affection is always flattering.

" Ah, dear ! " moaned Mrs. Gamp, sinking into the shaving
chair. " That there blessed Bull, Mr. Sweedlepipe, has done
his wery best to conker me. Of all the trying inwalieges in
this walley of the shadder, that one beats 'em black and lilue."

It was the practice of Mrs. Gamp and her friends in the
profession, to say this of all the easy customers ; as having at
once the effect of discouraging competitors for office, and
accountuig for the necessity of high living on the part of the
nurses.

" Talk of constitooshun ! " Mrs. Gamp observed. " A
person's constitooshun need be made of Bricks to stand it.
Mrs. Harris jestly says to me, but t'otlier day, ' Oh ! Sairey
Gamp,' she says, 'how is it done!' 'Mrs. Harris, ma'am,' I
says to her, ' we gives no trust ourselves, and put a deals o'
trust elsevere ; these is our religious feelins, and we finds 'em
answer.' 'Sairey,' says Mrs. Harris, ' sech is life. Vich
likeways is the hend of all things ! ' "

The barber gave a soft murmur, as much as to say that Mrs.
Harris's remark, though perhaps not quite so intelligible as
could be desired from such an authority, did equal honor to
her head and to her heart.

" And here," continued Mrs. Gamp, " and here am I a
goin twenty mile in distant, on as wentersome a chance as
ever any one as monthlied ever run, I do believe. Says Mrs.
Harris, with a woman's and a mother's art a beatin in her
human breast, she says to me, ' You're not a goin, Saiiey,
Lord forgive you ! ' ' Why am I not a going, Mrs. Harris ? '
I replies. 'Mrs. Gill,' I says, 'wos never wrong with six;
and is it likely, ma'am — I ask you as a mother — that she will
begin to be unreg'lar now. Often and often have I heerd him
say,' I says to Mrs. Harris, meaning Mr. Gill, 'that he would
back his wife agen Moore's almanack, to name the very day
and hour, for ninepence farden. Is it likely, ma'am,' I says,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 465

* as she will fail this once ? ' says Mrs. Harris, ' No, ma'am,
not in the course of nater. But,' she says, the tears a fillin in
her eyes, 'you knows much betterer than me, with your ex-
perienge, how little puts us out. A Punch's show,' she says,
'a chimbley sweep, a newfundlandog, or a drunkin man a
comin round the corner sharp, may do it.' So it may, Mr.
Sweedlepipes," said Mrs. Gamp, " there's no deniging of it ;
and though my books is clear for a full week, I takes a anxious
art along with me, I do assure you, sir."

" You're so full of zeal, you see ! " said Poll. " You worrit
yourself so."

" Worrit myself ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, raising her hands and
turning up her- eyes. " You speak truth in that, sir, if you
never speaks no more, 'twixt this and when two Sundays jines
together. I feels the sufferins of other people more than I
feels my own, though no one mayn't suppoge it. The families
I've had," said Mrs. Gamp, "if all was knowed, and credit
done where credit's doo, would take a week to chris'en at
Saint Polge's fontin ! "

"Where's the patient goin .' " asked Sweedlepipe.

" Into Har'fordshire, which is his native air. J3ut native
airs nor native graces neither," Mrs. Gamp observed, "won't
bring hi7n round."

" So bad as that ? " inquired the wistful barber. " In-
deed ! "

Mrs. Gamp shook her head mysteriously, and pursed up
her lips. " There's fevers of the mind," she said, "as well
as body. You may take your slime drafts till you flies into
the air with effenvescence ; but you won't cure that."

" Ah ! " said the barber, opening his eyes, and putting on
his raven aspect. " Lor ! "

" No. You may make yourself as light as any gash bal-
loon," said Mrs. Gamp. " But talk, when you're wrong in
your head, and when you're in your sleep, of certain things ;
and you'll be heavy in your mind."

" Of what kind of things now ? " inquired Poll, greedily
biting his nails in his great interest. " (jhosts .'' "

Mrs. Gamp, who perhaps had been already tempted further
than she had intended to go, by the barber's stimulating cu-
riosity, gave a sniff of uncommon significance, and said, it didn't
signify.

" I'm a going down with my patient in the coach this arter-
noon," she proceeded. " I'm a going to stop with him a day

30

465 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

or so, till he gets a coimtr)^ nuss (drat them country' nusses,
much the orkard hussies knows about their bis'ness) ; and then
I'm a comin' back ; and that's my trouble, Mr. Sweedlepipes.
But I hope that everythink'll only go on right and comfortable
as long as I'm away; perwisin which, as Mrs. Harris says,
Mrs. Gill is welcome to choose her own time : all times of the
day and night bein' equally the same to me."

During the progress of the foregoing remarks, which Mrs.
Gamp had addressed exclusively to the Barber, Mr. Bailey
had been tying his cravat, getting on his coat, and making
hideous faces at himself in the glass. Being now personally
addressed by Mrs. Gamp, he turned round, and mingled in
the conversation.

" You ain't been in the City, I suppose, sir, since we was
all three there together," said Mrs. Gamp, " at Mr. Chuzzle-
wit's ? "

" Yes I have, Sairah. I was there, last night.'

" Last night ! " cried the Barber.

" Yes, Poll, reether so. You can call it this morning if you
like to be particular. He dined with us."

"Who does that young Limb mean by ' hus } ' " said Mrs.
Gamp, with most impatient emphasis.

" Me and my Governor, Sairah. He dined at our house.
We wos very merrv', Sairah. So much so, that I was obliged
to see him home in a hackney coach at three o'clock in the
morning." It was on the tip of the boy's tongue to relate
what had followed ; but remembering how easily it might be
carried to his master's ears, and the repeated cautions he had
had from Mr. Crimple " not to chatter," he checked himself;
adding only, " She was sitting up, expecting him."

"And all things considered," said Mrs. Gamp sharply,
" she might have know'd better than to go a tiring herself out,
by doin' any think of the sort. Did they seem pretty pleasant
together, sir ? "

"Oh, yes," answered Bailey, "pleasant enough."

" I'm glad on it," said Mrs. Gamp, with a second snifiE of
significance.

"They haven't been married so long," observed Poll, rub-
bing his hands, " that they need be anything but pleasant yet
awhile."

" No," said Mrs. Gamp, with a third significant signal.

"Especially," pursued the Barber, "when the gentleman
bears sucfi a character as you gave him."

MARThY CHUZZLEIVIT. 467

" I speak as I find, Mr. Sweedlepipes," said Mrs. Gamp.
" Forbid it should be otherways ! But we never knows wot's
hidden in each other's hearts ; and if we had glass winders
there, we'd need keep the shetters up, some on us, I do assure
you ! "

"But you don't mean to say," Poll Sweedlepipe began.

"No," said Mrs. Gamp, cutting him very short, " I don't.
Don't think I do. The torters of the Imposition shouldn't
make me own I did. All I says is," added the good woman
rising and folding her shawl about her, "that the Bull's a
waitin', and the precious moments is a flyin' fast."

The little barber having in his eager curiosity a great de-
sire to see Mrs'.' Gamp's patient, proposed to Mr. Bailey that
they should accompany her to the Bull, and witness the de-
parture of the coach. That young gentleman assenting, they
all went out together.

Arriving at the tavern, Mrs. Gamp (who was full-dressed
for the journey, in her latest suit of mourning) left her friends
to entertain themselves in the yard, while she ascended to the
sick room, where her fellow-laborer Mrs. Prig was dressing
the invalid.

He was so wasted, that it seemed as if his bones would
rattle when they moved him. His cheeks were sunken, and his
eyes unnaturally large. He lay back in the easy-chair like one
more dead than living ; and rolled his languid eyes towards
the door when Mrs. Gamp appeared, as painfully as if their
weight alone were burdensome to move.

"And how are we by this time ?" Mrs. Gamp observed.
"We looks charming."

" We looks a deal charminger than we are, then," re-
turned Mrs. Prig, a little chafed in her temper. " We got
out of bed back'ards, I think, for we're as cross as two sticks.
I never see sich a man. He wouldn't have been washed, if
he'd had his own way."

" She put the soap in my mouth," said the unfortunate pa-
tient, feebly.

" Couldn't you keep it shut then ? " retorted Mrs. Prig.
" Who do you think's to wash one fcater, and miss another,
and wear one's eyes out with all manner of fine-work of that
description, for half-a-crown a day ! If you wants to be titti-
vated, you must pay accordin."

" Oh dear me ! " cried the patient, " oh dear, dear ! "

"There!" said Mrs. Prig, " that's the way he's been a

468 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

conducting of himself, Sarah, ever since I got him out of bed,
if you'll believe it."

"Instead of being grateful," Mrs. Gamp observ^ed, "for
all our little ways. Oh, fie for shame, sir, fie for shame ! "

Here Mrs. Prig seized the patient by the chin, and began
to rasp his unhappy head with a hair-brush.

" i suppose you don't like that, neither ! " she obser\^ed,
stopping to look at him.

it was just possible that he didn't, for the brush was a
specimen of the hardest kind of instnunent producible by
modern art ; and his ver}^ eyelids were red with the friction.
Mrs. Prig was gratified to observe the correctness of her sup-
position, and said triumphantly, " she know'd as much."

When his hair was smootlied down comfortably into his
eyes, Mrs. Prig and Mrs. Gamp put on his neckerchief : ad-
justing his shirt-collar with great nicety, so that the starched
points should also invade those organs, and afilict them with
an artificial ophthalmia. His waistcoat and coat were next
arranged : and as e\-ery button was wrenched into a wrong
button-hole, and the order of his boots was reversed, he pre-
sented on the whole rather a melancholy appearance.

" I don't think it's right," said the poor weak invalid. " I
feel as if I was in somebody else's clothes. I'm all on one
side ; and you've made one of my legs shorter than the other.
There's a bottle in my pocket too. What do you make me
sit upon a bottle for ? "

" Deuce take the man ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, drawing it
forth. " If he ain't been and got my night-bottle here. I
made a little cupboard of his coat when it hung behind the
door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find a ingun or two,
and a little tea and sugar in his t'other pocket, my dear, if
you'll just be good enough to take 'em out."

Betsey produced the property in question, together w'ith
some other articles of general chandlery ; and Mrs. Gamp
transferred them to her own pocket, which was a species of
nankeen pannier. Refreshment then arrived in the form of
chops and strong ale. for the ladies, and a basin of beef-tea
for the patient : which refection was barely at an end when
John Westlock appeared.

" Up and dressed ! " cried John, sitting down beside him.
" That's brave. How do vou feel .^ "

" Much better. But very weak."

" No wonder. You have had a hard bout of it. But country

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 469

air, and change of scene," said John, " will make another man
of you ! Why, Mrs. Gamp," he added, laughing, as he kindly
arranged the sick man's garments, "you have odd notions of
a gentleman's dress ! "

" Mr. Lewsome an't a easy gent to get into his clothes,
sir," Mrs. Gamp replied with dignity ; " as me and Betsey
Prig can certify afore the Lord Mayor and Uncommon Coun-
sellors, if needful ! "

John at that moment was standing close in front of the
sick man, in the act of releasing him from the torture of the
collars before mentioned, when he said in a whisper :

" Mr. Westlock ! I don't w^ish to be overheard. I have
something very particular and strange to say to you : some-
thing that has been a dreadful weight on my mind, through
this long illness."

Quick in all his motions, John was turning round to desire
the women to leave the room : when the sick man held him
by the sleeve.

" Not now. I've not the strength. I've not the courage.
May I tell it when I have .? May I write it, if I lind that
easier and better ? "

" May you ! " cried John. " Wh)', Lewsome, what is this ! "
" Don't ask me what it is. It's unnatural and cruel.
Frightful to think of. Frightful to tell. Frightful to know.
Frightful to have helped in. Let me kiss your hand for all
your goodness to me. Be kinder still, and don't ask me what
it is ! "

At first, John gazed at him, in great surprise ; but re-
membering how very much reduced he was, and how recently
his brain had been on fire with fever, believed that he was
laboring under some imaginary horror, or despondent fancy.
For farther information on this point, he took an opportunity
of drawing Mrs. Gamp aside, while Betsey Prig was wrapping
him in cloaks and shawls, and asked her whether he was quite
collected in his mind.

"Oh bless you, no!" said Mrs. Gamp. "He hates his
nusses to this hour. Thev alwavs does it, sir. It's a certain
sign. If you could have heard the poor dear soul a findin'
fault with me and Betsey Prig, not half an hour ago, you
would have wondered how it is we don't get fretted to the
tomb."

This almost confirmed John in his suspicion ; so, not tak-
ing what had passed into any serious account, he resumed

47 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

his former cheerful manner, and assisted by Mrs. Gamp and
Betsey Prig, conducted Lewsome down stairs to tlie coach :
just then upon the point of starting.

Poll Sweedlepipe was at the door with his arms tight
folded and his eyes wide open, and looked on with absorbing
interest, while the sick man was slowly moved into the
vehicle. His bony hands and haggard face impressed Poll
wonderfully ; and he informed Mr. Bailey, in confidence, that
he wouldn't have missed seeing him for a pound. Mr. Bailey,
who was of a different constitution, remarked, that he would
have stayed away for five shillings.

It was a troublesome matter to adjust Mrs. Gamp's lug-
gage to her satisfaction ; for every package belonging to that
lady had the inconvenient property of requiring to be put in
a boot by itself, and to have no other luggage near it, on pain
of actions at law for heavy damages against the proprietors
of the coach. The umbrella with the circular patch was par-
ticularly hard to be got rid of, and several times thrust out its
battered brass nozzle from improper crevices and chinks, to
the great terror of the other passengers. Indeed, in her in-
tense anxiety to find a haven of refuge for this chattle, Mrs.
Gamp so often moved it, in the course of five minutes, that it
seemed not one umbrella but fifty. At length it was lost, or
said to be ; and for the next five minutes she was face to face
with the coachman, go wherever he might, protesting that it
should be " made good," though she took the question to the
House of Commons.

At last, her bundle, and her pattens, and her basket, and
everything else, being disposed of, she took a friendly leave
of Poll and Mr. Bailey, dropped a curtsey to John Westlock,
and parted as from a cherished member of the sisterhood with
Betsey Prig.

" Wishin' you lots of sickness, my darling creetur," Mrs.
Gamp observed, " and good places. It won't be long, I hope,
afore we works together, oft" and on, again, Betsey ; and may
our next meetin' be at a large family's, where they all takes it
reg'lar, one from another, turn and turn about, and has it
business-like."

" I don't care how soon it is," said Mrs. Prig; " nor how
many weeks it lasts."

Mrs. Gamp with a reply in a congenial spirit was backing
to the coach, when she came in contact with a lady and gentle-
man who were passing along the footway.

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 47 1

"Take care, take care here!" cried the gentleman.
" Halloo ! My clear ! Why, it's Mrs. Gamp ! "

" What, Mr. Mould ! " exclaimed the nurse. " And Mrs.
Mould ! who would have thought as we should ever have a
meetin' here, I'm sure ! "

" Going out of town, Mrs. Gamp ? " cried Mould. " That's
unusual, isn't it ? "

"■ It is unusual, sir," said Mrs. Gamp. " But only for a day
or two at most. The gent," she whispered, " as I spoke about."

" What, in the coach ! " cried Mould. " The one you
thought of recommending ? Very odd. My dear, this will
interest you. The gentleman that Mrs. Gamp thought likely
to suit us, is in 'the coach, my love."

Mrs. Mould was greatly interested.

" Here, my dear. You can stand upon the door-step,"
said Mould, " and take a look at him. Ha ! There he is.
Where's my glass .-' Oh ! all right. I've got it. Do you see
him, my dear 1 "

" Quite plain," said Mrs. Mould.

" Upon my life you know, this is a very singular circum-
stance," said Mould, quite delighted. " I'his is the sort of
thing, my clear, I wouldn't have missed on any account. It
tickles one. It's interesting. It's almost a little play, you
know. Ah ! There he is ! To be sure. Looks poorly, Mrs.
M., don't he ? "

Mrs. Mould assented.

" He's coming our way, perhaps, after all," said Mould.
"Who knows ! I feel as if I ought to show him some little
attention, really. He don't seem a stranger to me. Tm\ery
much inclined to move my hat, my dear."

" He's looking hard this way," said Mrs. Mould.

" Then I will ! " cried Mould. " How d'ye do, sir ? I
wish you good day. Ha ! He bows too. Very gentlemanl}^
Mrs. Gamp has the cards in her pocket, I have no doubt.
This is very singular, my dear — and very pleasant. 1 am not
superstitious, but it really eeenis as if one was destined to pay
him those little melancholy civilities w-hich belong to our
peculiar line of business. There can be no kind of objection
to your kissing your hand to him, my dear."

Mrs. Mould did so.

" Ha ! " said Mould. " He's evidently gratified. Poor
fellow ! I'm quite glad you did it, my love. Bye bye, Mrs.
Gamp ! " waving his hand. " There he goes ; there he goes ! "-

472 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

So he did ; for the coach rolled off as the words were
spoken. Mr. and Mrs. Mould, in high good humor, went
their merry way. Mr. Bailey retired with Poll Sweedlepipe
as soon as possible ; but some little time elapsed before he
could remove his friend from the ground, owing to the impres-
sion wrought upon the barber's nerves by Mrs. Prig, whom he
pronounced, in admiration of her beard, to be a woman of
transcendent charms.

When the light cloud of bustle hanging round the coach
was thus dispersed, Nadgett was seen in the darkest box of
the Bull coffee-room, looking wistfully up at the clock — as if
the man who never ajDpearecl were a little behind his time.

CHAPTER XXX.

PROVES THAT CHANGES MAY BE RUNG IN THE BEST-REGU-
LATED FAMILIES, AND THAT MR. PECKSNIFF WAS A SPECIAL
HAND AT A TRIPLE-BOB-MAJUR.

As the surgeon's first care after amputating a limb is to
take up the arteries the cruel knife has severed, so it is the
duty of this history, which in its remorseless course has cut
from the Pecksnifhan trunk its right arm, Mercy, to look to
the parent stem, and see how in all its various ramifications it
got on without her.

And first of Mr. Pecksniff, it may be observed, that having
provided for his youngest daughter that choicest of blessings,
a tender and indulgent husband ; and having gratified the
dearest wish of his parental heart by establishing her in life
so happily ; he renewed his youth, and spreading the plumage
of his own bright conscience, felt himself equal to all kinds of
flights. It is customary with fathers in stage-pkys, after
giving their daughters to the men of their hearts, to congratu-
late themselves on having no other business on their hands
but to die immediately : though it is rarely found that they
are in a hurry to do it. Mr. Pecksniff, being a father of a
more sage and practical class, appeared to think that his im-
mediate business was to live ; and having deprived himself of
one comfort, to surround himself with others.

MARTIN CirUZZLK WIT.

473

But however much inclined the good man was to be jocose
and playful, and in the garden of his fancy to disport himself (if
one may say so), like an architectural kitten, he had one impedi-
ment constantly opposed to him. The gentle Cherry, stung
by a sense of slight and injur}', which far from softening down
or wearing out, rankled and festered in her heart, was in flat
rebellion. She waged fierce war against her dear Papa ; she led
her parent what is usually called, for want of abetter figure of
speech, the life of a dog. But never did that dog live, in
kennel, stable-yard, or house, whose life was half as hard as
Mr. PecksnitY's with his gentle child.

The father and daughter were sitting at their breakfast.
Tom had retired, and they were alone. Mr. Pecksniff frowned
at first ; but having cleared his brow, looked stealthily at his
child. Her nose was very red indeed, and screwed up tight,
with hostile preparation.

" Cherry," cried Mr. Pecksniff, " what is amiss between
us .■* My child, why are we disunited .-' "

Miss Pecksniff's answer was scarcely a response to this
gush of affection, for it was simply, " Bother, Pa ! "

" Bother ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff, in a tone of anguish.

"Oh! 'tis too late. Pa," said his daughter, calmly, " to
talk to me like this. 1 know what it means, and what its value
is."

" This is hard ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, addressing his
breakfast-cup. " This is very hard ! She is my child. I
carried her in my arms, when she wore shapeless worsted shoes
— I might say, mufflers — many years ago ! "

" You needn't taunt me with that, Pa," retorted Cherry,
with a spiteful look. " I am not so many years older than
my sister, either, though she is married to your friend ! "

" Ah, human nature, human nature ! Poor human nature ! "
said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his head at human nature, as if he
didn't belong to it. " To think that this discord should arise
from such a cause ! oh dear, oh dear ! "

" From such a cause indeed ! " cried Cherry. " State the
real cause. Pa, or I'll state it myself. Mind ! I will ! "

Perhaps the energy with which she said this was infectious.
However that may be, Mr. Pecksniff -changed his tone and
the expression of his face, for one of anger if not downright
violence, when he said :

" You will ! you have. You did yesterday. You do al-
ways. You have no decency ; you make no secret of your

474

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

temper ; you have exposed yourself to Mr. Chuzzlewit a hun-
dred tunes."

" Myself ! " cried Cherry, with a bitter smile. " Oh, in-
deed ! I don't mind that."

" Me too, then," said Mr. Pecksniff.

His daughter answered -with a scornful laugh.

" And since we have come to an explanation, Charity,"
said Mr. Pecksniff, rolling his head portentously, " let me tell
you that I won't allow it. None of your nonsense, Miss ! I
won't permit it to be done."

"I shall do," said Charity, rocking her chair backwards
and forwards, and raising her voice to a high pitch, " I shall
do. Pa, wliat I please and what I have done. 1 am not going
to be crushed in everything, depend upon it. I've been more
shamefully used than anybody ever was in this world," here
she began to cry and sob, " and may expect the worst treat-
ment from you, I know. But I don't care for that. No I
don't ! "

Mr. Pecksniff was made so desperate by the loud tone in
which she spoke, that, after looking about him in frantic un-
certainty for some means of softening it, he rose and shook
her until the ornamental bow of hair upon her head nodded
like a plume. She was so very much astonished by this
assault that it really had the desired effect.

" I'll do it again ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff as he resumed his
seat, and fetched his breath, " if you dare to talk in that loud
manner. How do you mean about being shamefully used .-'
If Mr. Jonas chose your sister in preference to you, who could
help it, I should wish to know. What have /to do with it ?"

" Wasn't I made a convenience of .'' Wern't my feelings
trifled with ? Didn't he address himself to me first?" sobbed
Cherrj^ clasping her hands ; '• and oh good gracious, that I
should live to be shook ! "

" You'll live to be shaken again," returned her parent, "if
you drive me to that means of maintaining the decorum of
this humble roof. You surprise me. I wonder you have not
more .spirit. If Mr. Jonas didn't care for you, how could you
wish to have him ? "

" / wish to have him ! " exclaimed Cherry, " / wish to
have him, Pa ! "

" Then what are you making all of this piece of work for,"
retorted her father, " if you didn't wish to have him ? "

" Because I was treated with duplicity," said Cherry; "and

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

475

because my own sister and my own father conspired against
me. I am not angiy with her" said Cherry, looking mucli
more angry than e\-er. " I pity her. I'm sorry for her. 1
know the fate that's in store for her, with that Wretch."

" Mr. Jonas will sur\ive your calling him a wretch, my
child, I dare say," said Mr. Pecksniff, with returning resigna-
tion ; " but call him what you like and make an end of it."

" Not an end, Pa," said Charity. " No, not an end. That's
not the only point on which we're not agreed. I won't sub-
mit to it. It's better you should know that, at once. No ; I
won't submit to it indeed, Pa ! I am not quite a fool, and I
am not blind. All I've got to say is, I won't submit to it."

Whatever she meant, she shook Mr. Pecksniff now ; for
his lame attempt to seem composed was melancholy in the
last degree. His anger changed to meekness, and his words
were mild and fawning.

" My dear," he said ; " if in the short excitement of an
angry moment I resorted to an unjustifiable means of sup-
pressing a little outbreak calculated to injure you as well as
myself — it's possible I may have done so ; perhaps 1 did — I
ask your pardon. A father asking pardon of his child,'.' said
Mr. Pecksniff, " is, I believe, a spectacle to soften the most
rugged nature."

But it didn't at all soften Miss Pecksniff : perhaps because
her nature was not rugged enough. On the contrary, she per-
sisted in saying, over and over again, that she wasn't quite a
fool, and wasn't blind, and wouldn't submit to it.

" You labor under some mistake, my child ! " said Mr.
Pecksniff : " but I will not ask you what it is ; I don't desire
to know. No, pray ! " he added, holding out his hand and
coloring again, " let us avoid the subject, my dear, whatever
it is!"

" It's quite right that the subject should be avoided be-
tween us, sir," said Cherry. " But I wish to be able to avoid
it altogether, and consequently must beg you to provide me
with a home."

Mr. Pecksniff looked about the room, and said " A home,
my child ! "

" Another home, Papa," said Cherry with increasing state-
liness. " Place me at Mrs. Todgers's or somewhere, on an
independent footing ; but I will not live here, if such is to be
the case."

It is possible that Miss Pecksniff saw in Mrs. Todgers's a

4^6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

vision of entliusiastic men, pining to fall, in adoration, at her
feet. It is possible that Mr. Pecksniff, in his new-born juve-
nility, saw in the suggestion of that same establishment, an
easy means of relieving himself from an irksome charge in
the' way of temper and watchfulness. It is undoubtedly a
fact that in the attentive ears of Mr. Pecksniff, the proposi-
tion did not sound quite like the dismal knell of all his hopes.

But he was a man of great feeling, and acute sensibility ;
and he squeezed his pocket-handkerchief against his eyes with
both hands — as such men always do : especially when they
are observed. " One of my birds," Mr. Pecksniff said, " has
left me for the stranger's breast ; the other would take wing
to Todgers's I Well, well, what am I .? I don't know what I
am, exactly. Never mind ! "

Even this remark, made more pathetic perhaps by his
breaking down in the middle of it, had no effect upon Charity.
She was grim, rigid, and inflexible.

" But I have ever," said Mr. Pecksniff, " sacrificed my
children's happiness to my own — I mean my own happiness
to my children's — and 1 will not begin to regulate my life by
other' rules of conduct now. If you can be happier at Mrs.
Todgers's than in your father's house, my dear, go to Mrs.
Todgers's ! Do not think of me, my girl ! " said Mr. Pecksniff,
with emotion : "I shall get on pretty well, no doubt."

Miss Charity, who knew he had a secret pleasure in the
contemplation of the proposed change, suppressed her own,
and went on to negotiate the terms. His views upon this
'subject were at first so very limited that another difference,
involving possibly another shaking, threatened to ensue ; but
by degrees they came to something like an understanding, and
the storm blew over. Indeed, Miss Charity's idea was so
agreeable to both, that it would have been strange if they had
not come to an amicable agreement. It was soon arranged
between them that the project should be tried, and that im-
mediately ; and that Cherry's not being well, and needing
change of scene, and wishing to be near her sister, should
form the excuse for her departure, to Mr. Chuzzlewit and
Mary, to both of whom she had pleaded indisposition for some
time past. These premises agreed on, Mr. Pecksniff gave
her his blessing, with all the dignity of a self-denying man
who had made a hard sacrifice, but comforted himself with
the reflection that virtue is its own reward. Thus they were
reconciled for the first time since that not easily forgiven

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

477

night, when Mr. Jonas, repudiating the elder, had confessed his
passion for the younger sister, and Mr. Pecksniff had abetted
him on moral grounds.

But how happened it — in the name of an unexpected addi-
tion to that small family, the Seven Wonders of the World,
wliatever and wherever they may be, how happened it — that
]\'Ir. Pecksniff and his daughter were about to part ? How
happened it that their mutual relations were so greatly al-
tered .'' Why was Miss Pecksniff so clamorous to have it
understood that she was neither blind nor foolish, and she
wouldn't bear it. It is not possible that Mr. Pecksniff had
any thoughts of marr}'ing again ! or that his daughter with
the sharp eye of a single woman, fathomed his design.

Let us inquire into this.

Mr. Pecksniif, as a man without reproach, from whom the
breath of slander passed like common breath from any other
polished surface, could afford to do what common men could
not. He knew the purity of his own motives ; and when he
had a motive worked at it as only a very good man (or a very
bad one) can. Did he set before himself any strong and pal-
pable motives for taking a second wife t Yes : and not one
or two of them, but a combination of very many.

Old Martin Chuzzlewit had gradually undergone an impor-
tant change. Even upon the night when he made such an
ill-timed arrival at JMr. Pecksniff's house, he was comparatively
subdued and easy to deal with. This Mr. Pecksniff attributed,
at the time, to the effect his brother's death had had upon
him. But from that hour his character seemed to have
modified by regular degrees, and to have softened down into
a dull indifference for almost every one but Mr. Pecksniff.
His looks were much the same as ever, but his mind was
singularly altered. It was not that this or that passion stood
out in brighter or in dimmer hues ; but that the color of the
whole man was faded. As one trait disappeared, no other
trait sprung up to take its place. His senses dwindled too.
He was less keen of sight ; was deaf sometimes ; took little
notice of what passed before him ; and would be profoundly
taciturn for days together. The process of this alteration was
so easy, that almost as soon as it began to be observed it was
complete. But Mr. Pecksniff saw it first, and having Anthony
Chuzzlewit fresh in his recollection, saw in his brother Martin
the same process of decav.

To a gentleman of Mr. Pecksnift"'s tenderness, this was a

478

MARTI.y CHUZZLEWIT.

very mournful sight. He could not but foresee the probability
of his respected relative being made the victim of designing
persons, and of his riches falling into worthless hands. It
gave him so much pain that he resolved to secure the
property to himself ; to keep bad testamentary suitors at a
distance ; to wall up the old gentleman, as it were, for his own
use. By little and little, therefore, he began to try whether
Mr. Chuzzlewit gave any promise of becoming an instnnnent
in his hands, and finding that he did, and indeed that he was
very supple in his plastic fingers, he made it the business of
his life, kind soul ! to establish an ascendancy over him : and
every little test he durst apply meeting with a success beyond
his hopes, he began to think he heard old Martin's cash
already chinking in his own unworldly pockets.

But when Mr. Pecksniff pondered on this subject (as, in
his zealous way, he often did), and thought with an uplifted
heart of the train of circumstances which had delivered the
old gentleman into his hands for the confusion of evil-doers
and the triumph of a righteous nature, he always felt that
Mary Graham was his stumbling-block. Let the old man say
what he would, Mr. Pecksniff knew he had a strong affection
for her. He knew that he showed it in a thousand little ways ;
that he liked to have her near him, and was never quite at
ease when she was absent long. That he had ever really
sworn to leave her nothing in his will, Mr; Pecksniff greatly
doubted. That even if he had, there were many ways by
which he could evade the oath and satisfy his conscience, Mr.
Pecksniff knew. That her unprotected state was no light
burden on the old man's mind, he also knew, for Mr.
Chuzzlewit had plainly told him so. " Then," said Mr.
Pecksniff, "what if I married her! What," repeated Mr,
Pecksniff, sticking up his hair and glancing at his bust by
Spoker : " What if, making sure of his approval first — he is
nearly imbecile, poor gentleman — I married her ! "

Mr. Pecksniff had a lively sense of the Beautiful ; especially
in women. His manner towgirds the sex was remarkable for
its insinuating character. It is recorded of him in another
part of these pages, that he embraced Mrs. Todgers on the
smallest provocation : and it was a way he had : it was a part
of the gentle placidity of his disposition. Before any thought
of matrimony was in his mind, he had bestowed on Mary
many little tokens of his spiritual admiration. They had
been indignantly received, but that was nothing. True, as

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

479

the idea expanded within him, these had become too ardent
to escape the piercing eye of Cherr}-, who read Ijis scheme at
once ; but he had always felt the power of Marsh's channs.
So Interest and Inclination made a pair, and drew the curricle
of Mr. Pecksniff's plan.

As to any thought of revenging himself on young Martin
for his insolent expressions when they parted, and of shutting
him out still more effectually from any hope of reconciliation
with his grandfather, Mr. Pecksniff was much too meek and
forgiving to be suspected of harboring it. As to being re-
fused by Mary, Mr. Pecksniff was quite satisfied that in her
position she could never hold out if he and Mr. Chuzzlewit
were both against her. As to consulting the wishes of her
heart in such a case, it formed no part of Mr. Pecksniff's
moral code ; for he knew what a good man he was, and what
a blessing he must be to anybody. His daughter having
broken the ice, and the murder being out between them, Mr.
Pecksniff had now only to pursue his design as cleverly as he
could, and by the craftiest approaches.

" Well, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, meeting old
Martin in the garden, for it was his habit to walk in and out
by that way, as the fancy took him : '' and how is my dear
friend this delicious morning ? "

" Do you mean me ? " asked the old man.

" Ah ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, " one of his deaf days, I see.
Could I mean any one else, my dear sir .' "

" You might ha\-e meant Alary," said the old man.

" Indeed I might, (^uitc true. I might speak of her as
a dear, dear friend, I hope ? " observed Mr. Pecksniff.

" I hope so," returned old Martin. " I think she deserves it."

" Think ! " cried Pecksniff, "Think, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! "

" You are speaking I know," returned Martin, " but I
don't catch what you say. Speak up ! "

" He's getting deafer than a flint," said Pecksniff. " I was
saying, my dear sir, that I am afraid I must make up my mind
to part with Cherry."

" What has she been doing ? " asked the old man.

" He puts the most ridiculous questions I ever heard ! "
muttered Mr. Pecksniff. " He's a child to-day." After which
he added, in a mild roar : " She hasn't been doing anything,
my dear friend."

" What are you going to part with her for ? " demanded
Martin.

480 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" She hasn't her health by any means," said Mr. Pecksniff.
" She misses her sister, my dear sir ; they doated on each
other from the cradle. And I think of giving her a run in
London for a change. A good long run, sir, if I find she
likes it."

" Quite right," cried Martin. " It's judicious."

" I am glad to hear you say so. I hope you mean to bear
me company in this dull part, while she's away ? " said Mr.
Pecksniff.

" I have no intention of removing from it," was Martin's
answer.

" Then why," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking the old man's arm
in his, and walking slowly on : " Why, my good sir, can't you
come and stay with me ? I am sure I could surround you
with more comforts, lowly as is my cot, than you can obtain
at a village house of entertainment. And pardon me, Mr.
Chuzzlewit, pardon me if I say that such a place as the
Dragon, however well-conducted (and, as far as I know, Mrs.
Lupin is one of the worthiest creatures in this country), is
hardly a home for Miss Graham."

Martin mused a moment : and then said as he shook him
by the hand.

" No. You're quite right ; it is not."

" The very sight of skittles," Mr. Pecksniff eloquently
pursued, " is far from being congenial to a delicate mind."

" It's an amusement of the vulgar," said old Martin,
" certainly."

"Of the very vulgar," Mr. Pecksniff answered. "Then
why not bring Miss Graham here, sir ? Here is the house.
Here am I alone in it, for Thomas Pinch I do not count as
any one. Our lovely friend shall occupy my daughter's cham-
ber ! you shall choose your own ; we shall not quarrel I
hope ! "

" We are not likelv to do that," said Martin.

Mr. Pecksniff pressed his hand. " We understand each
other, my dear sir, I see ! — I can wind him," he thought, with
exultation, " round my little finger ! "

" You leave the recompense to me ? " said the old man,
after a minute's silence.

" Oh ! do not speak of recompense ! " cried Pecksniff.

" I say," repeated Martin, with a glimmer of his ojd
obstinacy, " you leave the recompense to me. Do you ? "

" Since you desire it, my good sir."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 481

" I always desire it," said the old man. " You know I
always desire it. I wish to pay as I go, even when I buy of
you. Not that I do not leave a balance to be settled one
day, Pecksniff."

The architect was too much overcome to speak. He
tried to drop a tear upon his patron's hand, but couldn't find
one in his dr}^ distillery.

" May that day be ver)- distant ! " was his pious exclama-
tion. " Ah, sir ! If I could say how deep an interest I have
in you and yours ! I allude to our beautiful young friend."

" True," he answered.' " True. She need have some one
interested in her. I did her wrong to train her as I did.
Orphan though ^she was, she would have found some one to
protect her whom she might have loved again. When she
was a child, I pleased myself with the thought that in gratify-
ing my whim of placing her between me and false-hearted
knaves, I had done her a kindness. Now she is a woman, I
have no such comfort. She has no protector but herself. I
have put her at such odds with the world, that any dog may
bark or fawn upon her at his pleasure. Indeed she stands
in need of delicate consideration. Yes; indeed she does!"

" If her position could be altered and defined, sir .'' " Mr.
Pecksniff hinted.

" How can that be done .-' Should I make a seamstress of
her, or a governess ? "

" Heaven forbid ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " My dear sir,
there are other ways. There are indeed. But I am much
excited and embarrassed at present, and would rather not
pursue the subject. I scarcely know what I mean. Permit
me to resume it at another time."

" You are not unwell .'' " asked Martin anxiously.

" No, no ! " cried l^ecksniff. " No. Permit me to resume
it at another time. I'll walk a little. Bless you ! "

Old Martin blessed him in return, and squeezed his hand.
As he turned away, and slowly walked towards the house,
Mr. Pecksniff stood gazing after him : being pretty well re-
covered from his late emotion, which, in any other man, one
might have thought had been assumed as a machinery for
feeling Martin's pulse. Tlie change in the old man found
such a slight expression in his figure, that Mr. Pecksniff, look-
ing after him, could not help snying to himself :

" And I can w^nd him round my little finger ! Only
think ! "

31

482 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Old Martin happening to turn his head, saluted him afifec-
tionately. Mr. Pecksniff returned the gesture.

"Why the time was," said Mr. Pecksniff; "and not long
ago, when he wouldn't look at me ! How soothing is this
change. Such is the delicate texture of the human heart ; so
complicated is the process of its being softened ! Externally
he looks the same, and I can wind him round my little finger.
Only think ! "

In sober truth, there did appear to be nothing on which
Mr. Pecksniff might not have ventured with Martin Chuzzle-
wit ; for whatever Mr. Pecksniff said or did was right, and
whatever he advised was done. Martin had escaped so many
snares from needy fortune-hunters, and had withered in the
shell of his suspicion and distrust for so many years, but to
become the good man's tool and plaything. With the happi-
ness of this conviction painted on his face, the architect went
forth upon his morning walk.

The summer weather in his bosom was reflected in the
breast of Nature. Through deep green vistas where the
boughs arched over-head, and showed the sunlight flashing in
the beautiful perspective ; through dewy fern from which the
startled hares leaped up, and fled at his approach ; by
mantled pools, and fallen trees, and down in hollow places,
rustling among last year's leaves whose scent woke memory of
the past ; the placid Pecksniff strolled. By meadow gates
and hedges fragrant with wild roses ; and by thatched-roofed
cottages whose inmates humbly bowed before him as a man
both good and wise ; the worthy Pecksniff walked in tranquil
meditation. The bee passed onward, humming of the work
he had to do ; the idle gnats for ever going round and round
in one contracting and expanding ring, yet always going on as
fast as he, danced merrily before him ; the color of the long
grass came and went, as if the light clouds made it timid as they
floated through the distant air. The birds, so many Pecksniff
consciences, sang gayly upon every branch ; and Mr. Pecksniff
paid his homage to the day by ruminating on his projects as
he walked along.

Chancing to trip, in his abstraction, over the spreading
root of an old tree, he raised his pious eyes to take a survey
of the ground before him. It startled him to see the embodied
image of his thoughts not far a-head. Mary herself. And
alone.

At first Mr. Pecksniff stopped as if with the intention of

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 483

avoiding her ; but his next impulse was, to advance, whicli he
did at a brisk pace ; caroling as he went, so sweetly and with
so much innocence, that he only wanted feathers and wings
to be a bird.

Hearing notes behind her, not belonging to the songsters of
the grove, she looked round. Mr. Pecksniff kissed his hand,
and was at her side immediately.

" Communing with nature .-' " said Mr. Pecksniff. " So
am I."

She said the morning was so beautiful that she had walked
further than she intended, and would return. Mr. Pecksniff
said it was exactly his case, and he would return with her.

" Take my arm, sweet girl," said Mr. Pecksniff.

Mary declined it, and walked so very fast that he remon-
strated. "You were loitering when I came upon you," Mr.
Pecksniff said. " Why be so cruel as to hurry now. You
would not shun me, would you ? "

" Yes, I would," she answered, turning her glowing cheek
indignantly upon him, "you know 1 would. Release me, Mr.
Pecksniff. Your touch is disagreeable to me."

His touch ! What .' That chaste patriarchal touch which
Mrs. Todgers — surely a discreet lady — had endured, not only
without complaint, but with apparent satisfaction ! This was
positively wrong. Mr. Pecksniff was sorry to hear her say it.

" If you have not observed," said Mary, " that it is so,
pray take assurance from my lips, and not, as you are a gen-
tleman, continue to offend me."

"Well, well ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, mildly, "I feel that T
might consider this becoming in a daughter of my own, and
why should I object to it in one so beautiful ! It's harsh. It
cuts me to the soul," said Mr. Pecksniff: "but I cannot
quarrel with you, Mary."

She tried to say she was sorry to hear it, but burst into
tears. Mr. Pecksniff now repeated the Todgers' performance
on a comfortable scale, as if he intended it to last some time ;
and in his disengaged hand, catching hers, employed himself
in separating the fingers with his own, and sometimes kissing
them, as he pursued the conversation thus :

" I am glad we met. I am very glad we met. I am able
now to ease my bosom of a heavy load, and speak to you in
confidence. Mary," said Mr. Pecksniff in his tenderest
tones : indeed, they were so very tender that he almost
squeaked : " My soul 1 I love you ! "

484 ^^^ ^ ^-^^ CHUZZLE WIT.

A fantastic thing, that maiden affectation ! She made
believe to shudder.

" I love you," said Mr. Pecksniff, " my gentle life, with a
devotion which is quite surprising, even to myself. I did
suppose that the sensation was buried in the silent tomb of a
lady, only second to you in qualities of the mind and form :
but I find I am mistaken."

She tried to disengage her hand, but might as well have
tried to free herself from the embrace of an affectionate boa-
constrictor : if anything so wily may be brought into com-
parison with Pecksniff.

" Although I am a widower," said Mr. Pecksniff, examin-
ing the rings upon her fingers, and tracing the course of one
delicate blue \€m. with his fat thumb, '• a widower with two
daughters, still I am not encumbered, my love. One of them,
as you know, is married. The other, by her own desire, but
with a view, I will confess — why not ? — to my altering my
condition, is about to leave her father's house. I have a
character, I hope. People are pleased to speak well of me, I
think. My person and manner are not absolutely those of a
monster, I trust. Ah, naughty Hand ! " said Mr. Pecksniff,
apostrophizing the reluctant prize, " w^hy did you take me
prisoner ! Go, go ! "

He slapped the hand to punish it ; but relenting, folded it
in his waistcoat, to comfort it again.

" Blessed in each other, and in the societ)- of our venerable
friend, my darling," said Mr. Pecksniff, "we shall be happy.
When he is wafted to a haven of rest, we will console each
other. My pretty primrose, what do you say ? "

'• It is possible," Mary answered, in a hurried manner,
"that I ought to feel grateful for this mark of your confidence.
I cannot say that I do, but I am willing to suppose you may
deserve my thanks. Take them ; and pray leave me, Mr.
Pecksniff."

The good man smiled a greasy smile ; and drew her closer
to him.

" Pray, pray release me, Mr. Pecksniff. I cannot listen
to your proposal. I cannot receive it. There are many to
whom it may be acceptable, but it is not so to me. As an act
of kindness and an act of pit}', leave me ! "

Mr. Pecksniff walked on with his arm round her waist,
and her hand in his, as contentedly as if they had been all in
all to each other, and were joined in the bonds of truest love.

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 485

" If you force me by your superior strength," said Mary,
who finding that good words had not the least effect upon him,
made no further effort to suppress her indignation : " if you
force me by your superior strength to accompany you back, and
to be the subject of your insolence upon the way, you cannot
constrain the expression of my thoughts. I hold you in the
deepest abhorrence. I know your real nature and despise it."

" No, no," said Mr. Pecksniff, sweetly. " No, no, no ! "'

" By what arts or unhappy chances you have gained your
influence over Mr. Chuzzlewit, I do not know," said Mary:
" it may be strong enough to soften even this, but he shall
know of this, trust me, sir."

Mr. Pecksnitf raised his heavy eyelids languidly, and let
them fall again. It was saying with perfect coolness, " Ay,
ay ! Indeed ! "

" Is it not enough," said Mary, " that you warp and change
his nature, adapt his every prejudice to your bad ends, and
harden a heart naturally kind by shutting out the truth and
allowing none but false and distorted views to reach it \ is it
not enough that you have the power of doing this, and that
you exercise it, but must you also be so coarse, so cruel, and
so cowardly to me ? "

Still Mr. Pecksniff led her calmly on, and looked as mild
as any lamb that ever pastured in the fields.

" Will nothing move you, sir ? " cried Mary.

" My dear," observed Mr. Pecksniff, with a placid leer,
" a habit of self-examination, and the practice of — shall I say
of virtue .'' "

" Of hypocrisy," said Mary.

" No, no," resumed Mr. Pecksniff, chafing the captive
hand reproachfully, " of virtue — have enabled me to set such
guards upon myself, that it is really difficult to rufile me. It
is a curious fact, but it is difficult, do you know, for any one
to ruffie me. And did she think," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a
playful tightening of his grasp, " that she could ! How little
did she know his heart ! "

Little, indeed ! Her mind was so strangely constituted
that she would have preferred the caresses of a toad, an adder,
or a serpent : nay, the hug of a bear : to the endearments of
Mr. Pecksniff.

" Come, come," said that good gentleman, " a word or
two will set this matter right, and establish a pleasant under-
standing between us. I am not angry, my lo\e."

486 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" You angry ! "

"No," said Mr. Pecksniff, " I am not. I say so. Neither
are you."

There was a beating heart beneath his hand that told
another story though.

" I am sure you are not," said Mr. Pecksniff : " and I
will tell you why. There are two Martin Chuzzlewits, my
dear ; and your carr^-ing your anger to one might have a
serious effect — who knows ! — upon the other. You wouldn't
wish to hurt him, would you ! "

She trembled violently, and looked at him with such a
proud disdain that he turned his eyes away. No doubt lest
he should be offended with her in spite of his better self.

" A passive quarrel, my love," said Mr. Pecksniff, " may
be changed into an active one, remember. It would be sad to
blight even a disinherited young man \w his already blighted
prospects : but how easy to do it. Ah, how easy ! Have I
influence with our venerable friend, do you think ? Well,
perhaps I have. Perhaps I have."

He raised his eyes to hers ; and nodded with an air of
banter that was charming.

" No," he continued, thoughtfully. " Upon the whole, my
sweet, if I were you I'd keep my secret to myself. I am not
at all sure : very far from it : that it would surprise our friend
in any way, for he and I have had some conversation together
only this morning, and he is anxious, very anxious, to establish
you in some more settled manner. But whether he was sur-
prised or not surprised, the consequence of your imparting it
might be the same. Martin, junior, might suffer severely.
I'd have compassion on Martin, junior, do you know ? " said
Mr. Pecksniff, with a persuasive smile. " Yes. He don't
deserve it, but I would."

She wept so bitterly now, and was so much distressed, that
he thought it prudent to unclasp her waist, and hold her only
by the hand.

"As to our own share in the precious little myster}-," said
Mr. Pecksniff, " we will keep it to ourselves, and talk of it
between ourselves, and you shall think it over. You will
consent, my love ; you will consent, I know. Whatever you
may think ; you will. I seem to remember to have heard : I
really don't know where, or how : " he added, with bewitching
frankness, " that you and Martin, junior, when you were chil-
dren, had a sort of childish fondness for each other. When

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

487

we are married, you shall have the satisfaction of thinking
that it didn't last, to ruin him, but passed away, to do him
good ; for we'll see tlien, what we can do to put some trifling
help in Martin, junior's, way. Have I any influence with our
venerable friend ? Well ! Perhaps I have. Perhaps 1 have."

The outlet from the wood in which these tender passages
occurred, was close to Mr. Pecksniff's house. They were now
so near it that he stopped, and holding up her little finger,
said in playful accents, as a parting fancy :

" Shall I bite it >. "

Receiving no reply he kissed it instead ; and then stoop-
ing down, inclined his ffabby face to hers (he had a flabby
face, although he tons a good man), and with a blessing, which
from such a source was quite enough to set her up in life, and
prosper her for that time forth, permitted her to leave him.

Gallantry in its true sense is supposed to ennoble and
dignify a man ; and love has shed refinements on innumerable
Cymons. But Mr. Pecksniff : perhaps because to one of his
exalted nature these were mere grossnesses : certainly did not
appear to any unusual advantage, now that he was left alone.
On the contrar}-, he seemed to be shrunk and reduced ; to be
trj'ing to hide himself within himself ; and to be wretched at
not having the power to do it. His shoes looked too large ;
his sleeve looked too long ; his hair looked too limp ; his
features looked too mean ; his exposed throat looked as if a
halter would have done it good. For a minute or two, in fact,
he was hot, and pale, and mean, and shy, and slinking, and
consequently not at all PecksnifiRan. But after that, he
recovered himself, and went home with as beneficent an air
as if he had been the High Priest of the summer weather.

" I have arranged to go, Papa," said Charity, " to-morrow."

" So soon, my child ! "

" I can't go too soon," said Charity, " under the circum-
stances. I have written to Mrs. Todgers to propose an
arrangement, and have requested her to meet me at the coach,
at all events. You'll be quite your own master, now, Mr.
Pinch ! "

Mr. Pecksniff had just gone out of the room, and Tom had
just come into it.

" My own master ! " repeated Tom.

" Yes, you'll have nobody to interfere with you," said
Charity. " At least I hope you won't. Hem ! It's a chang-
ing world."

488 jMARTIN chuzzlewit.

" What ! are you going to be married, Miss Pecksniff ? "
asked Tom in great surprise.

" Not exactly," faltered Cherry. " I haven't made up my
mind to be. I believe I could be, if I chose, Mr. Pinch."

"Of course you could ! " said Tom. And he said it in
perfect good faith. He believed it from the bottom of his
heart.

" No," said Cherry, " / am not going to be married.
Nobody is, that I know of. Hem ! But 1 am not going to
live with Papa. I have my reasons, but it's all a secret. I
shall always feel very kindly towards you, I assure you, for
the boldness you showed that night. As to you and me, Mr.
Pinch, lOc part the best friends possible ! "

Tom thanked her for her confidence, and for her friend-
ship, but there was a mystery in the former, which perfectly
bewildered him. In his extravagant devotion to the family,
he had felt the loss of Merry more than any one but those
who knew that for all the slights he underwent he thought his
own demerits were to blame, could possibly have understood.
He had scarcely reconciled himself to that, when here was
Charity about to leave them. She had grown up, as it were,
under Tom's eye. The sisters were a part of Pecksniff, and
a part of Tom ; items in Pecksniff's goodness, and in Tom's
service. He couldn't bear it : not two hours' sleep had Tom
that night, through dwelling in his bed upon these dreadful
changes.

When morning dawned, he thought he must have dreamed
this piece of ambiguity ; but no, on going down stairs he
found them packing trunks and cording boxes, and making
other preparations for Miss Charity's departure, which lasted
all day long. In good time for the evening-coach, Miss
Charity deposited her housekeeping keys with much ceremony
upon the parlor table : took a gracious leave of all the house ;
and quitted her paternal roof — a blessing, for which the Peck-
sniffian servant was observed by some profane persons to be
particularly active in the thanksgiving at church next Sun-
day.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 489

CHAPTER XXXT.

MR. PINCH IS DISCHARGED OF A DUTY WHICH HE NEVER
OWED TO ANYBODY ; AND MR. PECKSNIFF DISCHARGES A
DUTY WHICH HE OWES TO SOCIETY.

The closing words of the last chapter, lead naturally to
the commencement of this, its successor ; for it has to do with
a church. With the church so often mentioned heretofore, in
which Tom Pindi played the organ for nothing.

One sultry afternoon, about a week after Miss Charity's
departure for London, Mr. Pecksniff being out walking by
himself, took it into his head to stray into the churchyard.
As he was lingering among the tombstones, endeavoring
to extract an available sentiment or two from the epitaphs
— for he never lost an opportunity of making up a few moral
crackers, 10 be let off as occasion served — Tom Pinch began
to practise. Tom could run down to the church and do so
whenever he had time to spare ; for it was a simple little
organ, provided with wind by the action of the musician's feet ;
and he was independent, even of a bellows-blower. Though
if Tom had wanted one at any time, there was not a man or
boy in all the village, and away to the turnpike (tollman
included), but would have blown away for him till he was black
in the face.

Mr. Pecksniff had no objection to music ; not the least.
He was tolerant of everything ; he often said so. He con-
sidered it a vagabond kind of trilling, in general, just suited
to Tom's capacity. But in regard to Tom's performance upon
this same organ, he was remarkably lenient, singularly amia-
ble ; for when Tom played it on Sundays, Mr. Pecksniff in
his unbounded sympathy felt as if he played it himself, and
were a benefactor to the congregation. So whenever it was
impossible to devise any other means of taking the value of
Tom's wages out of him, Mr. Pecksniff gave him leave to cul-
tivate this instrument. For which mark of his consideration,
Tom was veiy grateful.

The afternoon was remarkably warm, and Mr. Pecksniff
had been strolling a long way. He had not what may be
called a fine ear for music, but he knew when it had a tran-

490 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

quilizing influence on his soul ; and that was the case now,
for it sounded to him like a melodious snore. He approached
the church, and looking through the diamond lattice of a
window near the porch, saw Tom, with the curtains in the
loft drawn back, playing away with great expression and
tenderness.

The church had an inviting air of coolness. The old oak
roof supported by cross-beams, the hoary walls, the marble
tablets, and the cracked stone pavement, were refreshing to
look at. There were leaves of ivy tapping gently at the oppo-
site windows ; and the sun poured in through only one : leav-
ing the body of the church in tempting shade. But the most
tempting spot of all, was one red-curtained and soft-cushioned
pew, wherein the official dignitaries of the place (of whom Mr.
Pecksniff was the head and chief) enshrined themselves on
Sundays. Mr. Pecksniff's seat was in the corner : a remark-
ably comfortable corner ; where his very large Prayer-Book
was at that minute making the most of its quarto self upon
the desk. He determined to go in and rest.

He entered very softly ; in part because it was a church ;
in part because his tread was always soft ; in part because
Tom played a solemn tune ; in part because he thought he
would surprise him when he stopped. Unbolting the door of
the high pew of state, .he glided in and shut it after him ; then
sitting in his usual place, and stretching out his legs upon the
hassocks, he composed himself to listen to the music.

It is an unaccountable circumstance that he should have
felt drowsy there, where the force of association might surely
have been enough to keep him wide awake ; but he did. He
had not been in the snug little corner five minutes before he
began to nod. He had not recovered himself one minute be-
fore he began to nod again. In the ver}' act of opening his
eyes indolently, he nodded again. In the very act of shutting
them, he nodded again. So he fell out of one nod into an-
other until at last he ceased to nod at all, and was as fast as
the church itself.

He had a consciousness of the organ, long after he fell
asleep, though as to its being an organ he had nd more idea
of that, than he had of its being a Bull. After a while he be-
gan to have at intervals the same dreamy impressions of
voices ; and awakening to an indolent curiosity upon the sub-
ject, opened his eyes.

He was so indolent, that after glancing at the hassocks

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

491

and the pew, he was already lialf-way off to sleep again, when
it occurred to him that there really were voices in the church :
low voices, talking earnestly hard by : while the echoes seemed
to mutter responses. He roused himself, and listened.

Before he had listened half a dozen seconds, he became
as broad awake as ever he had been in all his life. With
eyes, and ears, and mouth, wide open, he moved himself a
very little with the utmost caution, and gathering the curtain
in his hand, peeped out.

Tom Pinch and Mary. Of course. He had recognized
their voices, and already knew the topic they discussed.
Looking like the small end of a guillotined man, with his cliin
on a level with' the top of the pew, so that he might duck
down immediately in case of either of them turning round, he
listened. Listened with such concentrated eagerness, that
his very hair and shirt-collar stood bristling up to help him.

" No," cried Tom. " No letters have ever reached me,
except that one from New York. But don't be uneasy on that
account, for it's very likely they have gone away to some far-
off place, where the posts are neither regular nor frequent.
He said in that very letter that it might be so, even in that
city to which they thought of travelling — Eden, you know."

" It is a great weight upon my mind," said Mary.

" Oh, but you mustn't let it be," said Tom. " There's a
true saying that nothing travels so fast as ill news ; and if the
slightest harm had happened to Martin, you may be sure you
would have heard of it long ago. I have often wished to say
this to you," Tom continued with an embarrassment that be-
came him very well, " but you have never gi\en me an oppor-
tunity."

" I have sometimes been almost afraid," said Mar}', " that
you might suppose I hesitated to confide in you, Mr. Pinch."

" No," Tom stammered, " I — 1 am not aware that I ever
supposed that. I am sure that if 1 have, I have checked the
thought directly, as an injustice to you. I feel the delicacy of
your situation in having to confide in me at all," said Tom,
" but I would risk my life to save you from one day's uneasi-
ness : indeed I would ! "

Poor Tom !

" I have dreaded sometimes," Tom continued, " that I
might have displeased you by — by having the boldness to try
and anticipate your wishes now and then. At other times I
have fancied that your kindness prompted you to keep aloof
from me."

492 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Indeed ! "

" It was very foolish : very presumptuous and ridiculous :
to think so," Tom pursued : " but I feared you might suppose
it possible that I — I — should admire you too much for my
own peace ; and so denied yourself the slight assistance you
would otherwise have accepted from me. If such an idea has
ever presented itself to you," faltered Tom, "pray dismiss it.
I arh easily made happy : and I shall live contented here long
after you and Martin have forgotten me. I am a poor, shy,
awkward creature : not at all a man of the world : and vou
should think no more of me, bless you, than if I were an old
friar ! "

If friars bear such hearts as thine, Tom, let friars multiply ;
though they have no such rule in all their stern arithmetic.

" Dear Mr. Pinch ! " said Mar}^, giving him her hand ; " I
cannot tell you how your kindness moves me. I have never
wronged you by the lightest doubt, and have never for an in-
stant ceased to feel that you were all ; much more than all ;
that Martin found you. Without the silent care and friend-
ship I have experienced from you, my life here would have
been unhappy. But you have been a good angel to me ; fill-
ing me with gratitude of heart, hope, and courage."

" I am as little like an angel, I am afraid," replied Tom,
shaking his head, " as any stone cherubim among the grave-
stones ; and I don't think there are many real angels of that
pattern. But I should like to know (if you will tell me) why
you have been so very silent about Martin."

" Because I have been afraid," said Mary, " of injuring
you."

" Of injuring me ! " cried Tom.

" Of doing you an injury with your employer.'

The gentleman in question dived.

" With Pecksniff ! " rejoined Tom, with cheerful confi-
dence. " Oh dear, he'd never think of us ! He's the best of
men. The more at ease you were, the happier he would be.
Oh dear, you needn't be afraid of Pecksniff. He is not a
spy."

Many a man in Pecksniff's place, if he could have dived
through the floor of the pew of state and come out at Calcutta
or any inhabited region on the other side of the earth, would
have done it instantly. Mr. Pecksniff sat dow-n upon a has-
sock, and listening more attentively than ever, smiled.

Mar\' seemed to have expressed some dissent in the mean-
while, for Tom went on to say, with honest energ}' :

MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. 493

'' Well, I don't know how it is, but it always happens,
whenever I express myself in this way, to anybody almost,
that I find they won't do justice to Pecksniff. It is one of the
most extraordinary circumstances that ever came within my
knowledge, but it is so. There's John Westlock, who used to
be a pupil here, one of the best-hearted young men in the
■world, in all other matters : I really believe John would have
Pecksniff flogged at the cart's tail if he could. And John is
not a solitary case, for every pupil we have had in my time
has gone away with the same inveterate hatred of him. There
was Mark Tapley, too, quite in another station of life," said
Tom : " the mockery he used to make of Pecksniff when he
was at the Dragon was shocking. Martin too : Martin was
worse than any of 'em. But I forgot. He prepared you to
dislike Pecksniff, of course. So you came with a prejudice,
you know. Miss Graham, and are not a fair witness."

Tom triumphed ver^^ much in this discovery, and rubbed
his hands with great satisfaction.

"Mr. Pinch," said Mary, "you mistake him."

" No, no ! " cried Tom. " You mistake him. But," he
added, with a rapid change in his tone, " what is the matter ?
Miss Graham, what is the matter?"

Mr. Pecksniff brought up to the top of the pew, by slow
degrees, his hair, his forehead, his eyebrow, his eye. She
was sitting on a bench beside the door with her hands before
her face ; and Tom was bending over her.

"What is the matter!" cried Tom. "Have I said any-
thing to hurt you ? Has any one said anything to hurt you ?
Don't cry. Pray tell me what it is. I cannot bear to see you
so distressed. Mercy on us, I never was so surprised and
grieved in all my life ! "

Mr. Pecksniff kept his eye in the same place. He could
have moved it now for nothing short of a gimlet or a red-hot
wire.

" I wouldn't have told you, Mr. Pinch," said Mary, " if I
could have helped it ; but your delusion is so absorbing, and
it is so necessary that we should be upon our guard, that you
should not be compromised ; and to that end that you should
know by whom I am beset ; that no alternative is left me. I
came here purposely to tell you, but I think I should have
wanted courage if you had not chanced to lead me so directly
to the object of my coming."

Tom gazed at her steadfastly, and seemed to say, " What
else 1 " But he said not a word.

494

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,

" That person whom you think the best of men," said
Mary, looking up, and speaking with a quivering Up and flash-
ing eye :

" Lord bless me ! " muttered Tom, staggering back, " Wait
a moment. That person whom I think the best of men ! You
mean Pecksniff, of course. Yes, I see you mean Pecksniff.
Good gracious me, don't speak without authority. What
has he done ? If he is not the best of men, what is he ? "

" The worst. The falsest, craftiest, meanest, cruellest,
most sordid, most shameless," said the trembling girl — trem-
bling with her indignation.

Tom sat down on a seat, and clasped his hands.

" What is he," said Mary, "who receiving me in his house
as his guest ; his unwilling guest : knowing my history, and
how defenceless and alone I am, presumes befere his daugh-
ters to affront me so, that if I had a brother but a child, who
saw it, he would instinctively have helped me ? "

" He is a scoundrel ! " exclaimed Tom. " Whoever he
may be, he is a scoundrel."

Mr. Pecksniff" dived again.

" What is he," said Mary, " who, when my only friend : a
dear and kind one, too : was in full health of mind, humbled
himself, before him, but was spurned away (for he knew him
then) like a dog. Who, in his forgiving spirit, now that that
friend is sunk into a failing state, can crawl about him again,
and use the influence he basely gains, for ever}^ base and
wicked purpose, and not for one — not one — that's true or
good > "

" I say he is a scoundrel ! " answered Tom.

" But what is he : oh Mr. Pinch, what is he : who, think-
ing he could compass these designs the better if I were his
wife, assails me with the coward's argument that if I marr}'^
him, Martin, on whom I have brought on much misfortune,
shall be restored to something of his former hopes ; and if I
do not, shall be plunged in deeper ruin? What is he who
makes my very constancy to one I love with all my heart a
torture to myself and wrong to him ; who makes me, do what
I will, the instrument to hurt a head 1 would heap blessings
on ! What is he who, winding all these cruel snares about
me, explains their purpose to me, with a smooth tongue and a
smiling face, in the broad light of day : dragging me on, the
while, in his embrace, and holding to his lips a hand," pur-
sued the agitated girl, extending it, " which I would have

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

495

struck off, if with it I could lose the shame and degradation
of his touch ? "

" I say," cried Tom, in great excitement, " he is a scoun-
drel and a villain ! I don't care who he is, I say he is a
double-dyed and most intolerable villain ! "

Covering her face with her hands again, as if the passion
which had sustained her through these disclosures lost itself
in an overwhelming sense of shame and grief, she abandoned
herself to tears.

Any sight of distress was sure to move the tenderness of
Tom, but this especially. Tears and sobs from her, were ar-
rows in his heart. He tried to comfort her : sat down beside
her ; expended all his store of homely eloquence ; and spoke
in words of praise and hope of Martin. Ay, though he loved
her from his soul with such a self-denying love as women sel-
dom wins : he spoke from first to last of Martin. Not the
wealth of the rich Indies would have tempted Tom to shirk
one mention of her lover's name.

When she was more composed, she impressed upon Tom
that this man she had described, was Pecksniff in his real
colors; and word by word and phrase by phrase, as well as
she remembered it, related what had passed between them in
the wood : which was no doubt a source of high gratification
to that gentleman himself, who in his desire to see and his
dread of being seen, was constantly diving down into the state
pew, and coming up again like the intelligent householder
in Punch's Show, who avoids being knocked on the head
with a cudgel. When she had concluded her account, and
had besought Tom to be very distant and unconscious in his
manner towards her after this explanation, and had thanked
him very much, they parted on the alarm of footsteps in the
burial-ground ; and Tom was left alone in the church again.

And now the full agitation and misery of the disclosure
came rushing upon Tom indeed. The star of his whole life
from boyhood had become, in a moment, putrid vapor. It
was not that Pecksniff, Tom's Pecksniff, Jiad ceased to exist,
but that he never had existed. In his death Tom would ]ia\'e
had the comfort of remembering what he used to be, but in
this discovery, he had the anguish of recollecting what he
never was. For as Tom's blindness in this matter had been
total and not partial, so was his restored sight. His Pecksniff
could never have w^orked the wickedness of which he had just
now heard, but any other Pecksniff could ; and the Pecksniff

496

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

who could do that, could do anything, and no doubt had
been doing anything and everything except the right thing, all
through his career. From the lofty height on which poor
Tom had placed his idol it was tumbled down headlong, and

Not all the king's horses, nor all the king's men,
Could have set Mr. Pecksniff up again.

Legions of Titans couldn't have got him out of the mud ; and
serve him right ! But it was not he who suffered ; it was Tom.
His compass was broken, his chart destroyed, his chronom-
eter had stopped, his masts were gone by the board ; his
anchor was adrift, ten thousand leagues away.

Mr. Pecksniff watched him with a lively interest, for he
divined the purpose of Tom's ruminations, and was curious
to see how he conducted himself. For some time, Tom wan-
dered up and down the aisle like a man demented, stopping
occasionally to lean against a pew and think it over; then he
stood staring at a blank old monument bordered tastefully
with skulls and cross-bones, as if it were the finest work of
Art he had ever seen, although at other times he held it in
unspeakable contempt ; then he sat down ; then walked to and
fro again ; then went wandering up into the organ-loft, and
touched the keys. But their minstrelsy was changed, their
music gone ; and sounding one long melancholy chord, Tom
drooped his head upon his hands and gave it up as hopeless.

" I wouldn't have cared," said Tom Pinch, rising from his
stool, and looking down into the church as if he had been the
Clergyman, " I wouldn't have cared for anything he might
have done to Me, for I have tried his patience often, and
have lived upon his sufferance, and have never been the help
to him that others could have been. I wouldn't have minded,
Pecksniff," Tom continued, little thinking who heard him, "if
you had done Me any wrong ; I could have found plenty of
excuses for that ; and though you might have hurt me, could
have still gone on respecting you. But why did you ever fall
so low as this in my esteem. Oh Pecksniff, Pecksniff, there
is nothing I would not have given, to have had you deserve my
old opinion of you ; nothing ! "

Mr. Pecksniff sat upon the hassock pulling up his shirt-
collar, while Tom, touched to the quick, delivered this apos-
trophe. After a pause he heard Tom coming down the stairs
jingling the church keys ; and bringing his eye to the top of
the pew again, saw him go slowly out, and lock the door.

Mr, Pecksniff durst not issue from his place of conceal-

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 497

ment ; for through the windows of the church, he saw Tom pass-
ing on among the graves, and sometimes stopping at a stone,
and leaning there, as if he were a mourner who had lost a
friend. Even when he had left the churchyard Mr. Pecksniff
still remained shut up : not being at all secure but that in his
restless state of mind Tom might come wandering back. At
length he issued forth, and walked with a pleasant counte-
nance into the vestry ; where he knew there was a window
near the ground, by which he could release himself by merely
stepping out.

He was in a curious frame of mind, Mr. Pecksniff : being
in no hurry to go, but rather inclining to a dilatory trifling
with the time, which prompted him to open the vestry cup-
board, and look at himself in the parson's little glass that hung
within the door. Seeing that his hair was rumpled, he took
the liberty of borrowing the canonical brush and arranging it.
He also took the liberty of opening another cupboard ; but he
shut it up again quickly, being rather startled by the sight of
a black and a white surplice dangling against the wall ; which
had very much the appearance of two curates who had com-
mitted suicide by hanging themselves. Remembering that he
had seen in the first cupboard a port-wine bottle and some bis-
cuits, he peeped into it again, and helped himself with much
deliberation : cogitating all the time though, in a very deep and
weighty manner, as if his thoughts were otherwise employed.

He soon made up his mind, if it had ever been in doubt ;
and putting back the bottle and biscuits, opened the casement.
He got out into the churchyard without any difficulty ; shut
the window after him ; and walked straight home.

" Is Mr. Pinch in-doors ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff of his serv-
ing maid.

" Just come in, sir."

" Just come in, eh ? " repeated Mr. Pecksniff, cheerfully.
" And gone up stairs, I suppose ? "'

" Yes, sir. Gone up stairs. Shall I call him, sir ? "

"No." said Mr. Pecksniff, "no. You needn't call him,
Jane. Thank you, Jane, how are your relations, Jane ? "

" Pretty well, I tliank you, sir."

" I am glad to hear it. Let thcin know I asked about
them, Jane. Is Mr. Chuzzlewit in the way, Jane.?"

" Yes, sir. He's in the parlor, reading."

" He's in the parlor, reading, is he, Jane? " said Mr. Peck-
sniff. "Very well. Then I think I'll go and see him, Jane."

32

498

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Never had Mr. Pecksniff been beheld in a more pleas-
ant humor.

But when he walked into the parlor where the old man
was engaged as Jane had said ; with pen and ink and paper on
a table close at hand (for Mr. Pecksniff was always very partic-
ular to have him well supplied with writing materials) ; he be-
came less cheerful. He was not angry, he was not vindictive,
he was not cross, he was not moody, but he was grieved ; he
was sorely grieved. As he sat down by the old man's side,
two tears : not tears like those with which recording an<rels
blot their entries out, but drops so precious that they use
them for their ink : stole down his meritorious cheeks.

" What is the matter .? " asked old Martin. " Pecksniff,
what ails you, man ? "

" I am sorry to interrupt you, my dear sir, and I am still
more sorry for the cause. My good, my worthy friend, I am
deceived."

" You are deceived ! "

"Ah ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in an agony, "deceived in the
tenderest point. Cruelly deceived in that quarter, sir, in which
I placed the most unbounded confidence. Deceived, Mr.
Chuzzlewitt, by Thomas Pinch."

" Oh ! bad, bad, bad ! " said Martin, laying down his book.
" Very bad ! I hope not. Are you certain t "

" Certain, my good sir ! My eyes and ears are witnesses.
T wouldn't have believed it otherwise. I wouldn't have be-
lieved it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, if a Fiery Serpent had proclaimed
it from the top of Salisbury Cathedral. I would have said,"
cried Mr. Pecksniff, "that the Serpent lied. Such was my
faith in Thomas Pinch, that I would have cast the falsehood
back into the Serpent's teeth, and would have taken Thomas
to my heart. But I am not a Serpent sir, myself, I grieve to
say, and no excuse or hope is left me."

Martin was greatly disturbed to see him so much agitated,
and to hear such unexpected news. He begged him to com-
pose himself, and asked upon what subject Mr. Pinch's
treachery had been developed.

"That is almost the worst of all, sir," Mr. Pecksniff an-
swered. "On a subject nearly concerning j'(?//. Oh ! is it not
enough," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking upward, " that these
blows must fall on me, but must they always hit my friends ! "

" You alarm me," cried the old man, changing color. "I
am not strong as I was. You terrify me, Pecksniff ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 4^9

" Cheer up, my noble sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking cour-
age, " and we will do what is required of us. You shall know
all, sir, and shall be righted. But first excuse me, sir, ex-
cuse me. I have a duty to discharge, which I owe to society."

He rang the bell, and Jane appeared. " Send Mr. Pinch
here, if you please Jane."

Tom came. Constrained and altered in his manner, down-
cast and dejected, visibly confused ; not liking to look Peck-
sniff in the face.

The honest man bestowed a glance on INIr. Chuzzlewit,
as who should say " You see ! " and addressed himself to Tom
in these terms ;,

" Mr. Pinch I have left the vestr}'-window unfastened.
Will you do me the favor to go and secure it ; then bring the
keys of the sacred edifice to me ! "

" The vestr)'-window, sir ? " cried Tom.

"You understand me, Mr. Pinch, I think," returned his
patron. " Yes, Mr. Pinch, the vestry-window. I grieve to
say that sleeping in the church after a fatiguing ramble, I
overheard just now some fragments," he emphasized that word,
" of a dialogue between two parties ; and one of them locking
the church when he went out, I was obliged to leave it myself
by the vestry-window. Do me the favor to secure that vestry-
window, Mr. Pinch, and then come back to me."

No physiognomist that ever dwelt on earth could have
construed Tom's face when he heard these words. Wonder
was in it, and a mild look of reproach, but certainly not fear
or guilt, although a host of strong emotions struggled to dis-
play themselves. He bowed and without saying one word
good or bad, withdrew.

"Pecksniff," cried Martin, in a tremble, "what does all
this mean ,-' You are not going to do anything in haste )'ou
may regret I "

" No, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, firmly, "No. But
I have a duty to discharge which I owe to society ; and it
shall be discharged, my friend, at any cost ! "

Oh late-remembered, much-forgotten, mouthing, braggart
duty, always owed, and seldom paid in any other coin than
punishment and wrath, when will mankind begin to know
thee ! When will men acknowledge thee in thy neglected
cradle, and thy stunted youth, and not begin their recogni-
tion in thy sinful manhood and thy desolate old age ! Oh
ermined Judge whose duty to society is, now, to doom the

500

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ragged criminal to punishment and death, hadst thou never,
Man, a duty to discharge in barring up the hundred open
gates that wooed him to the felon's dock, and throwing but ajar
the portals to a decent life ! Oh prelate, prelate, whose duty to
society it is to mourn in melancholy phrase the sad degeneracy
of these bad times in which thy lot of honors has been cast,
did nothing go before thy elevation to the lofty seat, from
which thou dealest out thy homilies to other tarriers for dead
men's shoes, whose duty to society has not begun ! Oh
magistrate, so rare a country gentleman and brave a squire,
had you no duty to society, before the ricks were blazing and
the mob were mad ; or did it spring up, armed and booted
from the earth, a corps of yeomanry, full-grown !

Mr. Pecksniff's duty to society could not be paid till Tom
came back. The interval which preceded the return of that
young man, he occupied in a close conference with his friend ;
so that when Tow did arrive, he found the two quite ready to
receive him. Mary was in her own room above, whither Mr.
Pecksniff, always considerate, had besought old Martin to
entreat her to remain some half-hour longer, that her feelings
might be spared.

When Tom came back, he found old Martin sitting by the
window, and Mr. Pecksniff in an imposing attitude at the
table. On one side of him was his pocket-handkerchief ; and
on the other, a little heap (a very little heap) of gold and
silver, and odd pence. Tom saw, at a glance, that it was his
own salary for the current quarter.

" Have you fastened the vestry-window, Mr. Pinch .'' " said
Pecksniff.

"Yes, sir."

" Thank you. Put down the keys if vou please, Mr. Pinch."

Tom placed them on the table. He held the bunch by
the key of the organloft (though it was one of the smallest),
and looked hard at it as he laid it down. It had been an old,
old friend of Tom's ; a kind companion to him, many and
many a day.

"Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, shaking his head: "Oh Mr,
Pinch ! I wonder you can look me in the face ! "

Tom did it though ; and notwithstanding that he has been
described as stooping generally, he stood as upright then as
man could stand.

" Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, taking up his handkerchief,
as if he felt that he should want it soon, " I will not dwell

MA R TIN CIJUZZL E WIT.

SOI

upon the past. I will spare you, and I will spare myself, that
pain at least."

Tom's was not a very bright eye, but it was a very expres-
sive one when he looked at Mr Pecksniff, and said :

" Thank you, sir. I am very glad you will not refer to
the past."

" The present is enough," said Mr. Pecksniff, dropping a
penny, "and the sooner thai is past, the better. Mr. Pinch,
I will not dismiss you without a word of explanation. Even
such a course would be quite justifiable under the circum-
stances ; but it might wear an appearance of hurr}% and I will
not do it ; for_ I am," said Mr. Pecksniff, knocking down
another penny, " perfectly self-possessed. Therefore I will
say to you, what I have already said to Mr. Chuzzlewit."

Tom glanced at the old gentleman, who nodded now and
then as approving of Mr. Pecksniff's sentences and senti-
ments, but interposed between them in no other way.

" From fragments of a conversation which I overheard in
the church, just now, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, "between
yourself and Miss Graham — I say fragments, because I was
slumbering at a considerable distance from you, when I was
roused by your voices — and from what I saw, I ascertained
(I would have given a great deal not to have ascertained, Mr.
Pinch) that you, forgetful of all ties of duty and of honor,
sir ; regardless of the sacred laws of hospitality, to which you
were pledged as an inmate of this house ; have presumed to
address Miss Graham with un-returned professions of attach-
ment and proposals of love."

Tom looked at him steadily.

" Do you deny it, sir t " asked Mr. Pecksniff, dropping
one pound two and fourpence, and making a great business
of picking it up again.

" No, sir," replied Tom. " 1 do not."

" You do not," said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing at the old
gentleman. "Oblige me by counting this money, Mr. Pinch,
and putting your name to this receipt. You do not ?"

No, Tom did not. He scorned to deny it. He saw that
Mr. Pecksniff having overheard his own disgrace, cared not a
jot for sinking lower yet in his contempt. He saw that he
had devised this fiction as the readiest means of getting rid of
him at once, but that it must end in that any way. He saw
that Mr. Pecksniff reckoned on his not denying it, because his
doing so and explaining, would incense the oM man more than

502

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ever against Martin, and against Mary : while Pecksniff him-
self would only have been mistaken in his "fragments."
Deny it ! No.

" You find the amount correct, do you, Mr. Pinch ? " said
Pecksniff.

" Quite correct, sir," answered Tom.

" A person is waiting in the kitchen," said Mr. Pecksniff,
" to carry your luggage wherever you please. We part, Mr.
Pinch, at once, and are strangers from this time."

Something without a name ; compassion, sorrow, old
tenderness, mistaken gratitude, habit : none of these, and yet
all of them ; smote upon Tom's gentle heart, at parting.
There was no such soul as Pecksniff's in that carcase ; and
yet, though his speaking out had not invohed the comprom-
ise of one he loved, he couldn't have denounced the very
shape and figure of the man. Not even then.

" I will not say," cried Mr. Pecksniff, shedding tears,
" what a blow this is. I will not say how much it tries me ;
how it works upon my nature ; how it grates upon my feelings.
I do not care for that. I can endure as well as another man.
But what I have to hope, and what you have to hope, Mr.
Pinch (otherwise a great responsibility rests upon you), is,
that this deception may not alter my ideas of humanity ; that
it may not impair my freshness, or contract, if I may use the
expression, my Pinions. I hope it will not ; I don't think it
will. It may be a comfort to you, if not now, at some future
time, to know, that I shall endeavor not to think the worse of
my fellow-creatures in general, for what has passed between
us. Farewell ! "

Tom had meant to spare him one little puncturation with
a lancet, which he had it in his power to administer, but he
changed his mind on hearing this, and said :

" I think you left something in the church, sir."

" Thank you, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff. " I am not
aware that I did."

" This is your double eye-glass, I believe ? " said Tom.

" Oh ! " cried Pecksniff, with some degree of confusion.
''I am obliged to you. Put it down, if you please."

"I found it," said Tom, slowly, "when I went to bolt
the vestry-window, in the pew."

So he had. Mr. Pecksniff had taken it off when he was
bobbing up and down, lest it should strike against the panel-
ling : and had forgotten it. Going back to the church with

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

503

his mind full of having been watched, and wondering very
much from what part Tom's attention was caught by the door
of the state pew standing open. Looking into it he found the
glass. And thus he knew, and by returning it gave Mr. Peck-
sniff the information that he knew, where the listener had
been ; and that instead of overhearing fragments of the con-
versation, he must have rejoiced in every word of it.

" I am glad he's gone," said Martin, drawing a long breath
when Tom had left the room.

" It is a relief," assented Mr. Pecksniff. " It is a great
relief. But having discharged — I hope with tolerable firmness
• — the duty which 1 owed to society, I w'ill now, my dear sir, if
you will give nfe leave, retire to shed a few tears in the back
garden, as an humble indivdual."

Tom went up stairs : cleared his shelf of books : packed
them up with his music and an old fiddle in his trunk ; got
out his clothes (they were not so many that they made his
head ache) ; put them on the top of his books ; and went into
the workroom for his case of instruments. There was a ragged
stool there, with the horsehair all sticking out of the top
like a wig : a very Beast of a stool in itself : on which he had
taken up his daily seat, year after year, during the whole
period of his service. They had grown older and shabbier in
company. Pupils had served their time ; seasons had come
and gone ; Tom and the worn-out stool had held together
through it all. That part of the room was traditionally called
"Tom's Corner." It had been assigned to him at first be-
cause of its being situated in a strong draught, and a great
way from the fire ; and he had occupied it ever since. There
were portraits of him on the wall, with all his weak points mon-
strously portrayed. Diabolical sentiments, foreign to his
character, were represented as issuing from his mouth in fat
balloons. Every pupil had added something, even unto fancy
portraits of his father with one eye, and of his mother with a
disproportionate nose, and especially of his sister ; who always
being presented as extremely beautiful, made full amends to
Tom for any other joke. Under less uncommon circumstances,
it would have cut Tom to the heart to leave these things, and
think that he saw them for the last time ; but it didn't now.
There was no Pecksniff ; there never had been a Pecksniff ;
and all his other griefs were swallowed up in that.

So when he returned into the bed-room, and, having fas-
tened his box and a carpet-bag, put on his walking gaiters, and

^04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

his great coat, and his hat, and taken his stick in his hand,
looked round it for the last time. Early on summer mornings,
and by the light of private candle-ends on winter nights, he
had read himself half blind in this same room. He had tried
in this same room to learn the fiddle under the bedclothes, but
yielding to objections from the other pupils had reluctantly
abandoned the design. At any other time he would have
parted from it with a pang, thinking of all he had learned
there, of the many hours he had passed there ; for the love of
his very dreams. But there was no Pecksniff ; there never
had been a Pecksniff ; and the unreality of Pecksniff extended
itself to the chamber, in which, sitting on one particular bed,
the thing supposed to be that Great Abstraction had often
preached morality with such effect, that Tom had felt a mois-
ture in his eyes, while hanging breathless on the words.

The man engaged to bear his box — Tom knew him well ;
a Dragon man — came stamping up the stairs, and made a
roguish bow to Tom (to whom in common times he would
have nodded with a grin), as though he were aware of what
had happened, and wished him to perceive it made no differ-
ence in him. It was clumsily done ; he was a mere waterer of
horses ; but Tom liked the man for it, and felt it more than
going away.

Tom would have helped him with the box, but he made no
more of it, though it was a heavy one, than an elephant would
have made of a castle : just swinging it on his back and bowl-
ing down stairs as if, being naturally a heavy sort of fellow, he
could carry a box infinitely better than he could go alone.
Tom took the carpet-bag, and went down stairs along with him.
At the outer door stood Jane, ciying with all her might ; and
on the steps was Mrs. Lupin, sobbing bitterely, and putting out
her hand for Tom to shake.

" You're coming to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch ? "

" No," said Tom, " no. I shall walk to Salisbury to-night.
I couldn't stay here. For goodness' sake, don't make me so
unhappy, Mrs. Lupin."

" But you'll come to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch. If it's only
for to-night. To see me, you know : not as a traveller."

" God bless my soul ! " said Tom, wiping his eyes. " The
kindness of people is enough to break one's heart !, I mean
to go to Salisbury to-night, my dear good creature. If you'll
take care of my box foi' me, till I write for it, I shall consider
it the greatest kindness you can do me."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

505

" I wish," cried Mrs. Lupin, "there were twenty boxes,
Mr. Pinch, that I might have 'em all."

" Thank'ee," said Tom. " It's like you. Good bye.
Good bye."

There were several people, young and old, standing about
the door, some of whom cried with Mrs. Lupin ; while others
tried to keep up a stout heart, as Tom did • and others were
absorbed in admiration of Mr. Pecksniff — a man who could
build a church, as one may say, by squinting at a sheet of
paper ; and others were divided between that feeling, and sym-
pathy with Tom. Mr. Pecksniff had appeared on the top of
the steps, simultaneously with his old pupil, and while Tom
was talking witlrMrs. Lupin kept his hand stretched out, as
though he said " Go forth ! " When Tom went forth, and had
turned the corner, Mr. Pecksniff shook his head, shut his
eyes, and heaving a deep sigh, shut the door. On which, the
best of Tom's supporters said he must have done some dreadful
deed, or such a man as Mr. Pecksniff never could have felt
like that. If it had been a common quarrel (they observed)
he would have said something, but when he didn't, Mr. Pinch
must have shocked him dreadfully.

Tom was out of hearing of their shrewd opinions, and
plodded on as steadily as he could go, until he came within
sight of the turnpike where the tollman's family had cried out
"Mr. Pinch!" that frosty morning when he went to meet
young Martin. He had got through the village, and this toll-
bar was his last trial ; but when the infant toll-takers came
screeching out, he had half a mind to run for it, and make a
bolt across the country.

"Why deary Mr. Pinch ! oh deary sir!" exclaimed the
tollman's wife. " What an unlikely time for you to be a going
this way with a bag ! "

" I am going to Salisbury," said 'i'om.

" Why, goodness, Where's the gig then?" cried the toll-
man's wife, looking down the road, as if she thought Tom
might have been upset without observing it.

" I haven't got it," said Tom. " 1 ■ — " he couldn't evade
it ; he felt she would have him in the next question, if he got
over this one. " I have left Mr, Pecksniff."

The tollman — a crusty customer, always smoking solitary
pipes in a Windsor chair, inside, set artfully between two little
windows that looked up and down the road, so that when he
saw anything coming up, he might hug himself on having toll

5o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

to take, and when he saw it going down, might hug himself on
having taken it — the tollman was out in an instant.

" Left Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried the tollman.

" Yes," said Tom, " left him."

The tollman looked at his wife, uncertain whether to ask
her if she had anything to suggest, or to order her to mind
the children. Astonishment making him surly, he preferred
the latter, and sent her into the toll-house, with a flea in her
ear.

" You left Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried the tollman, folding his
arms, and spreading his legs. " I should as soon have thought
of his head leaving him."

" Ay ! " said Tom, " so should I, yesterday. Good
night ! "

If a heavy drove of oxen hadn't come by, immediately, the
tollman would have gone down to the village straight, to in-
quire into it. As things turned out, he smoked another pipe,
and took his wife into his confidence. But their united saga-
city could make nothing of it, and they went to bed — meta-
phorically— in the dark. But several times that night, when a
wagon or other vehicle came through, and the driver asked the
toll-keeper " What news ? " he looked at the man by the light of
his lantern, to assure himself he had an interest in the subject,
and then said, wrapping his watch-coat round his legs •

" You've heard of Mr. Pecksniff down yonder .'' "

" Ah ! sure-ly ! "

" And of his young man Mr. Pinch p'raps ? "

"Ah!"

" They'-ve parted."

After every one of these disclosures, the tollman plunged
into his house again, and was seen no more, while the other
side went on, in great amazement.

But this was long after Tom was abed, and Tom was now
with his face towards Salisbury, doing his best to get there.
The evening was beautiful at first, but it became cloudy and
dull at sunset, and the rain fell heavily soon afterwards. For
ten long miles he plodded on, wet through, until at last the
lights appeared, and he came into the welcome precincts of
the city.

He went to the inn where he had waited for Martin, and
briefly answering their inquiries after Mr. Pecksniff, ordered
a bed. He had no heart for tea or supper, meat or drink of
any kind, but sat by himself before an empty table in the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

507

public room while the bed was getting ready, revolving in his
mind all that had had happened that eventful day, and won-
dering what he could or should do for the future. It was a
great relief when the chambermaid came in, and said the bed
was ready.

It was a low four-poster shelving downward in the centre
like a trough, and the room was crowded with impracticable
tables and exploded chests of drawers, full of damp linen. A
graphic representation in oil of a remarkably fat ox hung
over the fireplace, and the portrait of some former landlord
(who might have been the ox's brother, he was so like him)
stared roundly iij, at the foot of the bed. A variety of queer
smells were partially quenched in the prevailing scent of very
old lavender ; and the window had not been opened for such
a long space of time, that it pleaded immemorial usage, and
wouldn't come open now.

These were trifles in themselves, but they added to the
strangeness of the place, and did not induce Tom to forget
his new position. Pecksniff had gone out of the world — had
never been in it — and it was as much as Tom could do to say
his prayers without him. But he felt happier afterwards, and
went to sleep, and dreamed about him as he Never Was.

CHAPTER XXXII.

TREATS OF TODGERS S AGAIN ; AND OF ANOTHER BLIGHTED
PLANT BESIDES THE PLANTS UPON THE LEADS.

Early on the day next after that on which she bade adieu
to the halls of her youth and the scenes of her childhood,
Miss Pecksniff, arriving safely at the coach office in London,
was there received, and conducted to her peaceful home be-
neath the shadow of the Monument, by Mrs. Todgers. M.
Todgers looked a little worn by cares of gravy and other
such solicitudes arising out of her establishment, but displayed
her usual earnestness and warmth of manner.

" And how, my sweet Miss Pecksniff," said she, " how is
your princely pa ? "

Miss Pecksniff signified (in confidence) that he contem-

5o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

plated the introduction of a princely ma ; and repeated the
sentiment that she wasn't blind, and wasn't quite a fool, and
wouldn't bear it.

Mrs. Todgers was more shocked by the intelligence than
any one could have expected. She was quite bitter. She
said there was no truth in man, and that the warmer he ex-
pressed himself, as a general principle, the falser and more
treacherous he was. She foresaw with astonishing clearness
that the object of Mr. Pecksniff's attachment was designing,
worthless, and wicked ; and receiving from Charity the fullest
comfirmation of these views, protested with tears in her eyes
that she loved Miss Pecksniff like a sister, and felt her in-
juries as if they were her own.

" Your real darling sister, I have not seen her mor§ than
once since her marriage," said Mrs. Todgers, " and then I
thought her looking poorly. My sweet Miss Pecksniff, I
always thought that you was to be the lady .-^ "

" Oh dear do ! " cried Cherr}% shaking her head. " Oh no,
Mrs. Todgers. Thank you. No ! not for any consideration
he could offer."

" I dare say you are right," said Mrs. Todgers with a sigh,
" I feared it all along. But the misery we have had from that
match, here among ourselves, in this house, my dear Miss
Pecksniff, nobody would believe."

"Lor, Mrs. Todgers

" Awful, awful ! " repeated Mrs. Todgers, with strong em-
phasis. " You recollect our youngest gentleman, my dear ? "

" Of course I do," said Cherr\\

" You might have observed," said Mrs. Todgers, "how he
used to w-atch your sister ; and that a kind of stony dumbness
came over him whenever she was in company.'' "

" I am sure I never saw anything of the sort," said Cheriy,
in a peevish manner, " What nonsense, Mrs. Todgers ! "

" My dear," returned that lady in a hollow voice, "I have
seen him, again and again, sitting over his pie at dinner, with
his spoon a perfect fixture in his mouth, looking at your sister.
I have seen him standing in a corner of our drawing-room,
gazing at her, in such a lonely, melancholy state, that he was
more like a Pump than a man, and might have drawed
tears."

"I never saw it! " cried Cherr}^ ; "that's all I can say."

" But when the marriage took place," said Mrs. Todgers,
proceeding with her subject, " when it was in the paper, and

MARTIN CHUZZLEWFT. 509

was read out here at breakfast, I thought he had taken leave
of his senses, I did indeed. The violence of that young man,
my dear Miss Pecksniff ; the frightful opinions he expressed
upon the subject of self-destruction ; the extraordinary actions
he performed with his tea ; the clenching way in which he bit
his bread and butter ; the manner in which he taunted Mr.
Jinkins ; all combined to form a picture never to be for-
gotten."

"It's a pity he didn't destroy himself, I think," observed
Miss Pecksniff.

" Plimself ! " said Mrs. Todgers, "it took another turn at
night. He was for destroying other people then. There was
a little chaffing going on — I hope you don't consider that a
low expression. Miss Pecksniff ; it is always in our gentle-
men's mouths — a little chafhng going on, my dear, among
'em, all in good nature, when suddenly he rose up, foaming
with his fury, and but for being held by three, would have
had Mr. Jinkins's life with a boot-jack."

Miss Pecksniff's face expressed supreme indifference.

"And now," said Mrs. Todgers, "now he is the meekest
of men. You can almost bring the tears into his eyes by
looking at him. He sits with me the whole day long on
Sundays, talking in such a dismal way that I find it next to
impossible to keep my spirits up equal to the accommodation
of the boarders. His only comfort is in female society. He
takes me half-price to the play, to an extent which 1 some-
times fear is beyond his means ; and I see the tears a standing
in his eyes during the whole performance — particularly if il is
anything of a comic nature. The turn 1 experienced only
yesterday," said Mrs. Todgers, putting her hand to her side,
" when the housemaid threw his bedside carpet out of the
window of his room, while I w^as sitting here, no one can
imagine. I thought it was him, and that he had done it' at
last ! "

The contempt with which Miss Charity received this
pathetic account of the state to which the youngest gentle-
man in company was reduced, did not say much for her power
of sympathizing with that unfortunate character. She treated
it with great levity, and went on to inform herself, then and
afterwards, whether any other changes had occurred in the
commercial boarding-house.

Mr. Bailey was gone, and had been succeeded (such is the
decay of human greatness \) by an old woman whose name

5IO

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

was reported to be Tamaroo — which seemed an impossibility.
Indeed it appeared in the fulness of time that the jocular
boarders had appropriated the word from an English ballad,
in which it is supposed to express the bold and fiery nature
of a certain hackney-coachman ; and that it was bestowed
upon Mr. Bailey's successor by reason of her having nothing
fiery about her, except an occasional attack of that fire which
is called St. Anthony's. This ancient female had been
engaged, in fulfilment of a vow, registered by Mrs. Todgers,
that no more boys should darken the commercial doors ; and
she was chiefly remarkable for a total absence of all compre-
hension upon every subject whatever. She was a perfect
Tomb for messages and small parcels ; and when despatched
to the Post-office with letters, had been frequently se*n
endeavoring to insinuate them into casual chinks in private
doors, under the delusion that any door with a hole in it
would answer the purpose. She was a very little old woman,
and always wore a very coarse apron with a bib before and
a loop behind, together with bandages on her wrists, which
appeared to be afflicted with an everlasting sprain. She was
on all occasions chary of opening the street-door, and ardent
to shut it again ; and she waited at table in a bonnet.

This was the only great change over and above the change
which had fallen on the youngest gentleman. As for him, he
more than corroborated the account of Mrs. Todgers ;
possessing greater sensibility than even she had given him
credit for. He entertained some terrible notions of Destiny,
among other matters, and talked much about people's
" Missions ; " upon which he seemed to have some private
information not generally attainable, as he knew it had been
poor Merry's mission to crush him in the bud. He was very
frail, and tearful ; for being aware that a shepherd's mission
was to pipe to his flocks, and that a boatswain's mission
was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be
a paid piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper,
so he had got it into his head that his own peculiar mission
was to pipe his eye. Which he did perpetually.

He often informed Mrs. Todgers that the sun had set
upon him ; that the billows had rolled over him ; that the
Car of Juggernaut had crushed him ; and also that the deadly
Upas tree of Java had blighted him. His name was Moddle.

Towards this most unhappy Moddle, Miss Pecksniff con-
ducted herself at first with distant haughtiness, being in no

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 1 1

humor to be entertained with dirges in honor of her married
sister. The poor young gentleman was additionally crushed
by this, and remonstrated with Mrs. Todgers on the subject.

" Even she turns from me, Mrs. Todgers," said Moddle.

" Then why don't you try and be a little bit more cheerful,
sir ? " retorted Mrs. Todgers.

" Cheerful, Mrs. Todgers ! cheerful ! " cried the youngest
gentleman : " when she reminds me of days for ever fled, Mrs.
Todgers ! "

" Then you had better avoid her for a short time, if she
does," said Mrs. Todgers, " and come to know her again, by
degrees. That's my advice."

"But I can't avoid her," replied Moddle. "I haven't
strength of mind to do it. Oh, Mrs. Todgers, if you knew
what a comfort her nose is to me ! "

" Her nose, sir ! " Mrs. Todgers cried.

" Her profile, in general," said the youngest gentleman,
" but particularly her nose. It's so like ; " here he yielded
to a burst of grief ; " it's so like hers who is Another's, Mrs.
Todgers ! "

The observant matron did not fail to report this conversa-
tion to Charity, who laughed at the time, but treated Mr.
Moddle that very evening with increased consideration, and
presented her side-face to him as much as possible. Mr.
Moddle was not less sentimental than usual ; was rather more
so, if anything ; but he sat and stared at her with glistening
eyes, and seemed grateful.

" Well, sir ! " said the lady of the Boarding-House next
day. " You held up your head last night. You're coming
round, I think."

" Only because she's so like her who is Another's, Mrs.
Todgers," rejoined the youth. " When she talks, and when
she smiles, I think I'm looking on her brow again, Mrs.
Todgers."

This was likewise carried to Charity, who talked and
smiled next evening in her most engaging manner, and
rallying Mr. Moddle on the lowness of his spirits, challenged
him to play a rubber at cribbage. Mr. Moddle taking up the
gauntlet, they played several rubbers for sixpences, and
Charity won them all. This may have been partially attribut-
able to the gallantry of the youngest gentleman, but it was
certainly referable to the state of his feelings also : for his
eyes being frequently dimmed by tears, he thought that aces

512

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

were tens, and knaves queens, which at times occasioned some
confusion in his play.

On the seventh night of cribbage, when Mrs. Todgers,
sitting by, proposed that instead of gambling they should play
for " love," Mr. Moddle was seen to change color. On the
fourteenth night, he kissed Miss Pecksniff's snuffers, in the
passage, when she went up stairs to bed ; meaning to have
kissed her hand, but missing it.

In short, Mr. Moddle began to be impressed with the idea
that Miss Pecksniff's mission was to comfort him ; and Miss
Pecksniff began to speculate on the probability of its being
her mission to become ultimately Mrs. Moddle. He was a
young gentleman (Miss Pecksniff was not a very young lady)
with rising jDrospects, and " almost " enough to live on.
Really it looked very well.

Besides, besides, he had been regarded as devoted to
Merry. Merry had joked about him, and had once spoken
of it to her sister as a conquest. He was better looking,
better shaped, better spoken, better tempered, better mannered
than Jonas. He was easy to manage, could be made to consult
the humors of his Betrothed, and could be shown off like a
lamb when Jonas was a bear. There was the rub !

In the meantime the cribbage went on, and Mrs. Todgers
went off ; for the youngest gentleman, dropping her society,
began to take Miss Pecksniff to the play. He also began, as
Mrs. Todgers said, to slip home "in his dinner-times," and
to get away from " the office " at unholy seasons ; and twice,
as he informed Mrs. Todgers himself, he received anony-
mous letters, inclosing cards from Furniture Warehouses —
clearly the act of that ungentlemanly ruffian Jinkins : only he
hadn't evidence enough to call him out upon. All of which,
so Mrs. Todgers told Miss Pecksniff, spoke as plain English
as the shining sun.

" My dear Miss Pecksniff, you mav depend upon it," said
Mrs. Todgers, " that he is burning to propose."

" My goodness me, why don't he then ? " cried Cherry.

" Men are so much more timid than we think 'em, my
dear," returned Mrs. Todgers. "They baulk themselves
continually. I saw the words on Todgers's lips for months
and months, and months before he said 'em."

Miss Pecksniff submitted that Todgers might not have
been a fair specimen.

" Oh yes he was. Oh bless you, yes, my dear. I was

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

513

ver)' particular in those days, I assure you," said Mrs.
Todgers, bridling. " No, no. You give Mr. Moddle a little
encouragement, Miss Pecksniff, if you wish him to speak ; and
he'll speak fast enough, depend upon it."

" I am sure I don't know what encouragement he would
have, Mrs. Todgers," returned Charity. " He walks with
me, and plays cards with me, and he comes and sits alone
with me."

"Quite right," said Mrs. Todgers. " That's indispensable,
my dear."

" And he sits ver\- close to me."

"Also quite correct," said Mrs. Todgers.

" And he looks at me."

"To be sure he does," said Mrs. Todgers.

" And he has his arm upon the back of the chair or sofa,
or whatever it is — behind me, you know."

"/should think so," said Mrs. Todgers.

' And then he begins to cxy \ "

Mrs. Todgers admitted that he might do better than that •
and might undoubtedly profit by the recollection of the great
Lord Nelson's signal at the battle of Trafalgar. Still, she
said, he would come round, or, not to mince the matter, would
be brought round, if Miss Pecksniff took up a decided posi-
tion, and plainly showed him that it must be clone.

Determining to regulate her conduct by this opinion, the
young lady received Mr. Moddle, on the earliest subsequent
occasion, with an air of constraint ; and gradually leading him
to inquire, in a dejected manner, \vhy she was so changed,
confessed to him that she felt it necessary for their mutual
peace and happiness to take a decided step. They had been
much together lately, she observed, much together, and had
tasted the sweets of a genuine reciprocity of sei'U:iment. She
never could forget him, nor could she ever cease to think of
him with feelings of the liveliest friendship ; but people had
begun to talk, the thing had been observed, and it was neces-
sary that they should be nothing more to each other, than any
gentleman and lady in society usually are. She was glad she
had had the resolution to say thus much before her feelings
had been tried too far ; they had been greatly tried, she would
admit ; but though she was weak and silly, she would soon get
the better of it, she hoped.

Moddle, who had by this time become in the last degree
maudlin, and wept abundantly, inferred from the foregoing

su

J\/A A' TIN CIIUZZLE I VI T.

avowal, that it was his mission to communicate to others the
blight which had fallen on himself ; and that, being a kind of
unintentional Vampire, he had had Miss Pecksniff assigned
to him by the Fates, as Victim Number One. Miss Pecksniff
controverting this opinion as sinful, Moddle was goaded on to
ask whether she could be contented with a blighted heart ; and
it appearing on further examination that she could be,
plighted his dismal troth, which was accepted and returned.

He bore his good fortune with the utmost moderation.
Instead of being triumphant, he shed more tears than he had
ever been known to shed before : and sobbing, said :

" Oh ! what a day this has been ! I can't go back to the
office this afternoon. Oh, what a tr\'ing day this has been.
Good Gracious ! "

CHAPTER XXXHI.

FURTHER PROCEEDINGS IN EDEN, AND A PROCEEDING OUT
OF IT. MARTIN MAKES A DISCOVERY OF SOME IMPOR-
TANCE.

From Mr. Moddle to Eden is an easy and natural transi-
tion. Mr. Moddle, living in the atmosphere of Miss Peck-
sniff's love, dwelt (if he had but known it) in a terrestrial
Paradise. The thriving city of Eden was also a terrestrial
Paradise, upon the showing of its proprietors. The beautiful
Miss Pecksniff might have been poetically described as a
something too good for man in his fallen and degraded state.
That was exactly the character of the thriving city of Eden,
as poetically heightened by Zephaniah Scadder, General
Choke, and other worthies : part and parcel of the talons of
that great American Eagle, which is always airing itself sky-
high in purest aether, and never, no never, never, tumbles
down with draggled wings into the mud.

When Marie Tapley, leaving Martin in the architectural
and surveying offices, had effectually strengthened and en-
couraged his own spirits by the contemplation of their joint
misfortunes, he proceeded, with new cheerfulness, in search
of help : congratulating himself, as he went along, on the
enviable position to which he had at last attained.

" I used to think, sometimes," said Mr. Tapley, " as a

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

515

desolate island would suit me, but I should only have had
myself to provide for there, and being naturally a easy man to
manage, there wouldn't have been much credit in that. Now
here I've got my partner to take care on, and he's something
like the sort of man for the purpose. I want a man as is
always a sliding off his legs when he ought to be on 'em. I
want a man as is so low down in the school of life, that he's
always a making figures of one in his copy-book, and can't get
no further. I want a man as is his own great coat and cloak,
and is always a wrapping himself up in himself. And I have
got him too," said Mr. Tapley, after a moment's silence.
" What a happiness ! "

He paused to look round, uncertain to which of the log-
houses he should repair.

" I dont know which to take," he observed ; " that's the
truth. They're equally prepossessing outside, and equally
commodious, no doubt, within ; being fitted up with every con-
venience that a Alligator, in a state of natur', could possibly
require. Let me see ! The citizen as turned out last night,
lives under water, in the right-hand dog-kennel at the corner.
I don't want to trouble him if I can help it, poor man, for he is
a melancholy object : a reg'lar Settler in every respect.
There's a house with a winder, but I am afraid of their being
proud. I don't know whether a door ain't too aristocratic ;
but here goes for the first one ! "

He went up to the nearest cabni. and knocked with his
hand. Being desired to enter, he complied.

" Neighbor," said Mark : " for I avi a neighbor, though
you don't know me ; I've come a begging. Hallo ! hal — lo !

• Vm I a-bed, and dreaming ! "

He made this exclamation on hearing his own name pro-
nounced, and finding himself clasped about the skirts by two
little boys, whose faces he had often washed, and whose sup-
pers he had often cooked, on board of that noble, and fast-
sailing line of packet ship, the Screw.

" My eyes is wrong ! " said Mark. " I don't believe 'em.
That ain't my fellow-passenger yonder, a nursing her little
girl, who I am sorry to see, is so delicate ; and that ain't her
husband as come lo New York to fetch her. Nor these," he
added, looking down upon the boys, " aiiTt them two young
shavers as was so familiar to me ; though they are uncommon
like 'em. That I must confess."

The woman shed tears, in very joy to see him ; the man

5 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

shook both his hands, and would not let them go ; the two
boys hugged his legs ; the sick child, in the mother's arms,
stretched out her burning little lingers, and muttered, in her
hoarse, dry throat, his well-remembered name.

It was the same family, sure enough. Altered by the salu-
brious air of Eden. But the same.

"This is a new sort of a morning call," said Mark, draw-
ing a long breath. " It strikes one all of a heap. Wait a
little bit ! I'm a coming round, fast. That'll do ! These
gentlemen ain't my friends. Are they on the wisiting list of
the house } "

The inquiry referred to certain gaunt pigs, who had
walked in after him, and were much interested in the heels of
the family. As they did not belong to the mansion, they were
expelled by the two little boys.

" I ain't superstitious about toads," said Mark, looking
round the room, " but if you could prevail upon the two or
three I see in company, to step out at the same time, my
young friends, I think they'd find the open air refreshing.
Not that I at all object to 'em. A very handsome animal
is a toad," said Mr. Tapley, sitting down upon a stool :
" very spotted ; very like a partickler style of old gentleman
about the throat ; very bright-eyed, very cool, and very slippy.
But one sees 'em to the best advantage out of doors perhaps."

While pretending, with such talk as this, to be perfectly at
his ease, and to be the most indifferent and careless of men,
Mark Tapley had an eye on all around him. The wan and
meagre aspect of the family, the changed looks of the poor
mother, the fevered child she held in her lap, the air of great
despondency and little hope on everything, were plain to him,
and made a deep impression on his mind. He saw it all as
clearly and as quickly, as with his bodily eyes he saw the rough
shelves supported by pegs driven between the logs, of which
the house was made ; the flour-cask in the corner, serving also
for a table ; the blankets, spades, and other articles against the
walls ; the damp that blotched the ground ; or the crop of
vegetable rottenness in every crevice of the hut.

" How is it that you have come here .'' " asked the man,
when their first expressions of surprise were over.

" Why, we come by the steamer last night," replied Mark.
" Our intention is to make our fortuns with punctuality and
dispatch ; and to retire upon our property as soon as ever it's
realized. But how are you all t You're looking noble "

MARThV CHUZZLEWIT.

517

" We are but sickly now," said the poor woman, bending
over her child. " But we shall do better when we are seasoned
to the place."

" There are some here," thought Mark, " whose seasoning
will last for ever."

But he said cheerfullv, " Do better I To be sure vou will.
We shall all do better. What we've got to do is, to keep up
our spirits, and be neighborly. We shall come all right in
the end, never fear. That reminds me, by the l)y, that my
partner's all wrong just at present ; and that I looked in, to
beg for him I wish you'd come, and give me your opinion of
him, master."

That must have been a very unreasonable request on the
part of Mark Tapley, with which, in their gratitude for his
kind offices on board the ship, they would not have complied
instantly. The man rose to accompany him without a mo-
ment's delay. Before they went, Mark took the sick child in
his arms, and tried to comfort the mother j but the hand of
death was on it then, he saw.

They found Martin in the house, Iving wrapped up in his
blanket on the ground. He was to all appearance, very ill
indeed, and shook and shivered horribly : not as people do
from cold, but in a frightful kind of spasm or convulsion, that
racked his whole body. Mark's friend pronounced his disease
an aggravated kind of fever, accompanied with ague ; which
was ver}' common in those parts, and which he predicted
would be worse to-morrow, and for many more to-morrows.
He had had it himself off and on, he said, for a couple of
years or so ; but he was thankful that, while so many he had
known had died about him, he had escaped with life.

" And with not too much of that," thought Mark, surveying
his emaciated form. " Eden for ever ! "

They had some medicine in their chest ; and this man of
sad experience showed Mark how and when to administer it,
and how he could best alleviate the sufferings of Martin. His
attentions did not stop there ; for he was backwards and for-
wards constantly, and rendered Mark good service in all his
brisk attempts to make their situation more endurable. Hope
or comfort for the future he could not bestow. The season
was a sickly one ; the settlement a grave. His child died
that night ; and Mark keeping the secret from Martin, helped
to bury it, beneath a tree, next day.

With all his various duties of attendance upon Martin (who

5 1 8 ^'if^ ^ TLY CHUZZLE WIT.

became the more exacting in liis claims, the worse he grew),
Mark worked out of doors, early and late ; and with the assist-
ance of his friend and others, labored to do something with
their land. Not that he had the least strength of heart or
hope, or steady purpose in so doing, beyond the habitual
cheerfulness of his disposition, and his amazing power of self-
su^tainment ; for within himself, he looked on their condition
as beyond all hope, and in his own words, " came out strong "
in consequence.

" As to coming out as strong as I could wish, sir," he con-
fided to Martin in a leisure moment ; that is to say, one even-
ing, while he was washing the linen of the establishment, after
a hard day's work, " that I give up. It's a piece of good
fortune as never is to happen to me, I see ! "

" Would you wish for circumstances stronger than these ? "
Martin retorted with a groan, from underneath his blanket.

" Why, only see how easy they might have been stronger,
sir," said Mark, " if it wasn't for the envy of that uncommon
fortun of mine, which is always after me, and tripping me up.
The night we landed here, I thought things did look pretty
jolly. I won't deny it. 1 thought they did look pretty jolly."

" How do they look now ? " groaned Martin.

" Ah ! " said Mark, " Ah to be sure. That 's the question.
How do they look now ! On the very first morning of my
going out, what do I do .-' Stumble on a family I know, who
are constantly assisting of us in all sorts of wa}'s, from that
time to this ! That won't do, vou know : that ain't what Td
a right to e.xpect. If I had stumbled on a serpent, and got
bit ; or stumbled on a first-rate patriot, and got bowie-knifed ;
or stumbled on a lot of Sympathizers with inverted shirt-collars,
and got made a lion of ; I might have distinguished myself,
and earned some credit. As it is, the great object of my
voyage is knocked on the head. So it would be, wherever I
went. How do you feel to-night, sir ? "

" Worse than ever," said poor Martin.

" That's something," returned Mark, " but not enough.
Nothing but being very bad myself, and jolly to the last, will
ever do me justice."

" In Heaven's name, don't talk of that," said Martin, with
a thrill of terror. " What should I do, Mark, if you were
taken ill ! "

Mr. Tapley's spirits appeared to be stimulated by this re-
mark, although it was not a very flattering one. He pro-

HI A J^ TIN CIIUZZL E WIT.

519

ceecled with his washing in a brighter mood ; and observed
" tliat his glass was a-rising."

" There's one good thing in this place, sir," said Mr. Tap-
ley, scrubbing away at the linen, " as disposes me to be jolly ;
and that is, that it's a reg'lar little United States in itself.
There's two or three American settlers left ; and they coolly
comes over one, even here, sir, as if it was the wholesomest
and loveliest spot in the world. But they're like the cock
that went and hid himself to save his life, and was found out
by the noise he made. They can't help crowing. They was
born to do it, and do it they must, whatever comes of it."'

Glancing from his work, out at the door, as he said these
words Mark's eyes encountered a lean person in a blue frock
and a straw hat, with a short black pipe in his mouth, and a
great hickory stick, studded all over with knots, in his hand ;
who smoking and chewing as he came along, and spitting fre-
quently, recorded his progress by a train of decomposed to-
bacco on the ground.

" Here's one on 'em," crietl Mark, " Hannibal Chollop."

" Don't let him in," said Martin, feebly.

'' He won't want any letting in," replied Mark. " He'll
come in, sir," Which turned out to be quite true, for he did.
His face was almost as hard and knobby as stick ; and so were
his hands. His head was like an old black hearth-broom. He
sat down on the chest willi his hat on ; and crossing his legs
and looking up at Mark, said without removing his pipe :

" Well, Mr. Co ! and how do you git along, sir ? "

It may be necessary to observe that Mr. Tapley had gravely
introduced himself to all strangers, by that name.

" Pretty well, sir ; pretty well," said Mark.

" If this ain't Mr. Chuzzlewit, ain't it ! " exclaimed the
visitor. " How do you git along, sir ? "

Martin shook his head, and drew the blanket over it in-
voluntarily ; for he felt that Hannibal was going to spit ; and
his eye, as the song says, was upon him.

" You need not regard me sir," observed Mr. Chollop,
complacently. " I am fever-proof, and likewise agur."

"Mine was a more selfish motive," said Martin, looking out
again. " I was afraid you were going to "

" I can calc'late my distance, sir," returned Mr. Chollop,
" to an inch."

With a proof of which happy faculty he inmiediately fa-
vored him.

520

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I re-quire, sir," said Hannibal, " two foot clear in a cir-
c'lar di-rection, and can engage my-self toe keep within it. I
have gone ten foot, in a circ'lar di-rection, but that was for a

wager.

" I hope you won it, sir," said Mark.

"Well, sir, I realized the stakes," said Chollop. "Yes,
sir."

He was silent for a time, during which he was actively
engaged in the formation of a magic circle round the chest
on which he sat. When it was completed, he began to talk
again.

" How do like our country, sir ? " he inquired, looking at
Martin.

" Not at all," was the invalid's reply.

Chollop continued to smoke without the least appearance
of emotion, until he felt disposed to speak again. That time
at length arriving, he took his pipe from his mouth, and
said :

" I am not surprised to hear you say so. It re-quires An
elevation, and A preparation of the intellect. The mind of
man must be prepared for Freedom, Mr. Co."

He addressed himself to Mark : because he saw that Mar-
tin, who wished him to go, being already half-mad with fever-
ish irritation, which the droning voice of this new horror ren-
dered almost insupportable, had closed his eyes, and turned
on his uneasy bed.

" A little bodily preparation wouldn't be amiss, either,
would it, sir," said Mark, " in the case of a blessed old swamp
like this.?"

" Do you con-sider this a swamp, sir.'" inquired Chollop
gravely.

" Why yes, sir," returned Mark. " I haven't a doubt about
it, myself."

" The sentiment is quite Europian," said the major, " and
does not surprise me : what would your English millions say
to such a swamp in England, sir .'' "

" They'd say it was an uncommon nasty one, I should
think," said Mark ; " and that they would rather be inoculated
for fever in some other way."

" Europian ! " remarked Chollop, with sardonic pity,
" Quite Europian ! "

And there he sat. Silent and cool, as if the house were
his ; smoking away like a factory chimney.

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 2 i

Mr. Chollop was, of course, one of the most remarkable
men in the country ; but he really was a notorious person be-
sides. He was usually described by his friends, in the South
and West, as " a splendid sample of our na-tive raw material,
sir," and was much esteemed for his devotion to rational Lib-
erty ; for the better propagation whereof he usually carried a
brace of revolving pistols in his coat pocket, with seven bar-
rels a-piece. He also carried, amongst other trinkets, a sword-
stick, which he called his "Tickler ; " and a great knife, which
(for he was a man of a pleasant turn of humor) he called
" Ripper," in allusion to its usefulness as a means of ventilat-
ing the stomach of any adversar)' in a close contest. He had
used these weapons with distinguished effect in several in-
stances, all duly chronicled in the newspapers ; and was
greatly beloved for the gallant manner in which he had "job-
bed out " the eye of one gentleman, as he was in the act of
knocking at his own street-door.

Mr. Chollop was a man of a roving disposition ; and, in
any less advanced community, might have been mistaken for
a violent vagabond. But his fine qualities being perfectly un-
derstood and appreciated in those regions where his lot was
cast, and where he had many kindred spirits to consort with,
he may be regarded as having been born under a fortunate
star, which is not alwavs the case with a man so much before
the age in which he lives. Preferring, with a view to the
gratification of his tickling and ripping fancies, to dwell upon
the outskirts of society, and in the more remote towns and
cities, he was in the habit of emigrating from place to place,
and establishing in each some business — usually a newspaper
— which he presently sold : for the most part closing the bar-
gain by challenging, stabbing, pistolling, or gouging, the new
editor, before he had quite taken possession of the property.

He had come to Eden on a speculation of this kind, but
had abandoned it, and was about to leave. He always intro-
duced himself to strangers as a worshipper of Freedom ; was
the consistent advocate of Lvnch law, and slaverv ; and inva-
riably recommended, both in print and speech, the "tarring
and feathering " of any unpopular person who differed from
himself. He called this " planting the standard of civiliza-
tion in the wilder gardens of Mv country."

There is little doubt that Chollop would have planted this
standard in Eden at Mark's expense, in return for his plain-
ness of speech (for the genuine Freedom is dumb, save when

522

MARTIN CFTUZZLEWTT.

she vaunts herself), but for the utter desolation and decay
prevailing in the settlement, and his own approaching depar-
ture from it. As it was, he contented himself with showing
Mark one of the revolving-pistols, and asking him what he
thought of that weapon.

" It ain't long since I shot a man down with that, sir, in
the State of Illinry," observed Chollop.

" Did you, indeed ! " said Mark, without the smallest
agitation. "Very free of you. And very independent ! "

" I shot him down, sir," pursued Chollop, "for asserting
in the Spartan Portico, a tri-weekly journal, that the ancient
Athenians went a-head of the present Locofoco Ticket."

" And what's that t " asked Mark.

" Pkiropian not to know," said Chollop, smoking placidly.
" Europian quite ! "

After a short devotion to the interests of the magic circle,
he resumed the conversation by observing ;

" You won't half feel yourself at home in Eden, now ? "

" No," said Mark, " I don't."

" You miss the imposts of your countiy. You miss the
house dues ? " observed Chollop.

"And the houses— rather," said Mark.

" No window dues here, sir," observed Chollop.

" And no windows to put 'em on," said Mark.

" No stakes, no dungeons, no blocks, no racks, no scaf-
folds, no thumbscrews, no pikes, no pillories," said Chollop.

" Nothing but rewolwers and bowie-knives," returned
Mark. " And what are they t Not worth mentioning ! "

The man who had met them on the night of their arrival
came crawling up at this juncture, and looked in at the door.

"Well, sir," said Chollop. " How do jvw git along ? "

He had considerable difficulty in getting along at all, and
said as much in reply.

" Mr. Co. And me, sir," observed Chollop, " are disputa-
ting a piece. He ought to be slicked up pretty smart, to
disputate between the Old World and the New, I do expect .'' "

" Well ! " returned the miserable shadow. " So he had."

" I was merely observing, sir," said Mark, addressing this
new visitor, " that I looked upon the city in which we have
the honor to live, as being swampy. What's your senti-
ments t "

" I opinionate it's moist perhaps, at certain times," returned
the man.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWrr. 523

" But not as moist as England, sir ? " cried Chollop, witli
a fierce expression in his face.

" Oh ! Not as moist as England ; let alone its Institutions,"
said the man.

" I should hope there ain't a swamp in all Americay, as
don't whip that small island into mush and molasses,"
observed Chollop, decisively. " You bought slick, straight,
and right away, of Scadder, sir 1 " to Mark.

He answered in the affirmative. Mr. Chollop winked at
the other citizen.

" Scadder is a smart man, sir .'' He is a rising man } He
is a man as will come up'ards, right side up, sir ? " Mr.
Chollop winked again at the other citizen.

"He should have his right side very high up, if I had my
way," said Mark. "As high up as the top of a good tall
gallows, perhaps."

Mr. Chollop was so delighted at the smartness of his ex-
cellent countryman having been too much for the Britisher,
and at the Britisher's resenting it, that he could contain
himself no longer, and broke forth in a shout of delight. But
the strangest exposition of this ruling passion was in the
other : the pestilence-stricken, broken, miserable shadow of a
man : who derived so much entertainment from the circum-
siance, that he seemed to forget his own ruin in thinking of
it, and laughed outright when he said " that Scadder was a
smart man, and had draw'd a lot of British ca]Mtal that way,
as sure as sun-up."

After a full enjoyment of this joke, Mr. flamiibal Chollop
sat smoking and improving the circle, without making any
attempts either to converse, or to take leave ; apparently
laboring under the not uncommon delusion, that tor a free
and enlightened citizen of the United States to con\ ert another
man's house into a spittoon for two or three hours together,
was a delicate attention, full of interest and politeness, of
which nobody could ever tire. At last he rose.

" I am a going easy," he observed.

Mark entreated him to take ])articular care of himself.

"Afore 1 go," he said sternly, " 1 have got a leetle word
to say to you. You are darnation 'cute you are."

Mark thanked him for the compliment.

" But you are much too cute to last. I can't con-ceive of
any spotted Painter in the bush, as ever was so riddled
through and through as you will be, 1 bet."

5 24 MARTIN CHUZZLElVir.

" What for ? " asked Mark.

" We must be cracked-up, sir," retorted Chollop, in a tone |
of menace. " You are not now in A despotic land. We are
a model to the airth, and must be jist cracked-up, I tell you."

" What, I speak too free, do I ? " cried Mark.

" I have draw'd upon A man, and fired upon A man for
less," said Chollop, frowning. " I have know'd strong men
obleeged to make themselves uncommon skase for Less. I
have know'd men Lynched for less, and beaten into punkin'-
sarse for less, by an enlightened people. We are the intellect
and virtue of the airth, the cream Of human natur', and the
flower Of moral force. Our backs is easy ris. We must be
cracked-up, or they rises, and we snarls. We shows our teeth,
I tell you, fierce. You'd better crack us up, you had ! "

After the delivery of this caution, Mr. Chollop departed ;
with Ripper, Tickler, and the revolvers, all ready for action
on the shortest notice.

" Come out from under the blanket, sir," said Mark, " he's
gone. What's this !" he added softly : kneeling down to look
into his partner's face, and taking his hot hand. What's
come of all that chattering and swaggering ? He's wandering
in his mind to-night, and don't know me:"

Martin indeed was dangerously ill ; very near his death.
He lay in that state many days, during which time Mark's
poor friends, regardless of themselves, attended him. Mark,
fatigued in mind and body ; working all the day and sitting
up at night ; worn with hard living and the unaccustomed toil
of his new life ; surrounded by dismal and discouraging cir-
cumstances of every kind ; never complained or yielded in
the least degree. If ever he had thought Martin selfish or
inconsiderate, or had deemed him energetic only by fits and
starts, and then too passive for their desperate fortunes, he
now forgot it all. He remembered nothing but the better
qualities of his fellow-wanderer, and was devoted to him, heart
and hand.

Many weeks elapsed before Martin was strong enough to
move about with the help of a stick and Mark's arm ; and
even then his recovery, for want of wholesome air and proper
nourishment, was very slow. He was yet in a feeble and
weak condition, when the misfortune he had so much dreaded
fell upon them. Mark was taken ill.

Mark fought against it \ but the malady fought harder,
and his efforts were in vain.

o

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 525

"Floored for the present, sir," he said one morning, sinl<-
ing back upon his bed : " but jolly ! "

Floored indeed, and by a heavy blow ! As any one but
Martin might have known beforehand.

If Mark's friends had been kind to Martin (and they had
been very), they were twenty times kinder to Mark. And now
it was Martin's turn to work, and sit beside the bed and
watch, and listen through the long, long nights, to every sound
in the gloomy wilderness ; and hear poor Mr, Tapley, in his
wandering fancy, playing at skittles in the Dragon, making
love-remonstrances to Mrs. Lupin, getting his sea-legs on
board the Screw, travelling with old Tom Pinch on English
roads, and burning stumps of trees in Eden, all at once.

But whenever Martin gave him drink or medicine, or
tended him in any way, or came into the house returning from
some drudgery without, the patient Mr. Tapley brightened up,,
and cried : " I'm jolly, sir : Em jolly! "

Now, when Martin began to think of this, and to look at
Mark as he lay there ; never reproaching him by so much a.s
an expression of regret ; never murmuring ; always striving to
be manful and staunch ; he began to think, how was it that
this man who had had so few advantages, was so much better
than he who had had so many.? And attendance upon a sick
bed, but especially the sick bed of one whom we have been ac-
customed to see in full activity and vigor, being a great breeder
of reflection, he began to ask himself in what they differed.

He was assisted in coming to a conclusion on this head
by the frequent presence of ALark's friend, their fellow-passen-
ger across the ocean : which suggested to him that in regard
to having aided her, for example, they had differed very much.
Somehow he coupled Tom Pinch with this train of reflection ;
and thinking that Tom would be very likely to have struck up
the same sort of acquaintance under similar circumstances,
began to think in what respects two people so extremely dif-
ferent were like each other, and were unlike him. At first
sight there was nothing very distressing in these meditations,
but they did undoubtedly distress him for all that,

Martin's nature was a frank and generous one ; but he
had been bred up in his grandfather's house ; and it will usu-
ally be found that the meaner domestic vices propagate them-
selves to be their own antagonists. Selfishness does this es-
pecially; so do suspicion, cunning, stealth, and covetous
propensities. Martin had unconsciously reasoned as a child,

526

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" My guardian takes so much thought to himself, that unless
I do the like by myself, I shall be forgotten." So he had
grown selfish.

But he had never known it. If any one had taxed him
with the vice, he would have indignantly repelled the accusa-
tion, and conceived himself unworthily aspersed. He never
would have known it, but that being newly risen from a bed of
dangerous sickness, to watch by such another couch, he felt
how nearly Self had dropped into the grave, and what a poor
dependent, miserable thing it was.

It was natural for him to reflect — he had months to do it in
— upon his own escape, and Mark's extremity. This led him to
consider which of them could be the better spared, and why ?
Then the curtain slowly rose a very little way ; and Self, Self,
Self, was shown below.

He asked himself, besides, when dreading Mark's decease
(as all men do and must, at such a time), whether he had done
his duty by him, and had deserved and made a good response
to his fidelity and zeal. No. Short as their companionship
had been, he felt in many, many instances, that there was
blame against himself ; and still inquiring why, the curtain
rose a little more, and Self, Self, Self, dilated on the scene.

It was long before he fixed the knowledge of himself so
firmly in his mind that he could thoroughly discern the truth ;
but in the hideous solitude of that most hideous place, with
Hope so far removed. Ambition quenched, and Death beside
him rattling at the very door, reflection came, as in a plague-
beleaguered town ; and so he felt and knew the failing of his
life, and saw distinctly what an ugly spot it was.

Eden was a hard school to learn so hard a lesson in ; but
there were teachers in the swamp and thicket, and the pesti-
lential air, who had a searching method of their own.

He made a solemn resolution that when his strength re-
turned he would not dispute the point or resist the conviction,
but would look upon it as an established fact, that selfishness
was in his breast, and must be rooted out. He was so doubt-
ful (and with justice) of his own character, that he determined
not to say one word of vain regret or good resolve to Mark,
but steadily to keep his purpose before his own eyes solely :
and there was not a jot of pride in this ; nothing but humility
and steadfastness : the best armor he could wear. So low
had Eden brought him down. So high had Eden raised him up.

After a long and lingering illness (in certain forlorn stages

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

5-^7

of which, when too far gone to speak, he had feebly written
" jolly ! " on a slate), Mark showed some symptoms of return-
ing health. They came and went, and flickered for a time ;
but he began to mend at last decidedly ; and after that, con-
tinued to improve from day to day.

As soon as he was well enough to talk without fatigue,
Martin consulted him upon a project he had in his mind, and
which a few months back he would have carried into execution
without troubling anybody's head but his own.

" Ours is a desperate case," said Martin. " Plainly. The
place is deserted ; its failure must have become known ; and
selling what we have bought to any one for anything is hope-
less, even if it were honest. We left home on a mad enter-
prise, and have failed. The only hope left us ; the only one
end for which we have now to try, is to quit this settlement
for ever, and get back to England. Any how ! by any means !
Only to get back there, Mark."

" That's all, sir," returned Mr. Tapley, with a significant
stress upon the words : " only that ! "

"Now, upon this side of the water," said Martin, "we
have but one friend who can help us, and that is Mr. Bevan."

" I thought of him when you was ill," said Mark.

" But for the time that would be lost, I would even write
to my grandfather," Martin went on to say, " and implore him
for money to free us from this trap into which we were so
cruelly decoyed. Shall I try Mr. Bevan first ? "

" He's a very pleasant sort of a gentleman," said Mark.
" I think so."

" The few goods we brought here, and in which we spent
our money, would produce something if sold," resumed Mar-
tin ; " and whatever they realize shall be paid him instantly.
But they can't be sold here."

"There's nobody but corpses to buy 'em," said Mr. Tap-
ley, shaking his head with a rueful air, " and pigs."

" Shall I tell him so, and only ask him for money enough
to enable us by the cheapest means to reach New York, or
any port from which we may hope to get a passage home, by
serving in any capacity .•* Explaining to him at the same time
how I am connected, and that I will endeavor to repay him,
even through my grandfather, innnediately on our arri\al in
England ? "

" Why to be sure," said Mark , " he can only say no, and
he may say yes. If you don't mind trying him, sir — "

528

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Mind ! " exclaimed Martin. '' I am to blame for coming
here, and I would do anything to get away. I grieve to think
of the past. If I had taken your opinion sooner, Mark, we
never should have been here, I am certain."

Mr. Tapley was very much surprised at this admission,
but protested, with great vehemence, that they would have
been there all the same ; and that he had set his heart upon
coming to Eden, from the first word he had ever heard of it.

Martin then read him a letter to Mr. Bevan, which he had
already prepared. It was frankly and ingenuously written,
and described their situation without the least concealment ;
plainly stated the miseries they had undergone ; and preferred
their request in modest but straightforward tenns. Mark
highly commended it ; and they determined to despatch it by
the next steamboat going the right way, that might call to
take in wood at Eden, — where there was plent}' of wood to
spare. Not knowing how to address Mr. Bevan at his own
place of abode, Martin superscribed it to the care of the
memorable Mr. Norris of New York, and wrote upon the cover
an entreaty that it might be forwarded without delay.

More than a week elapsed before a boat appeared ; but at
length they were awakened \&x^ early one morning by the
high-pressure snorting of the " Esau Slodge ; " named after
one of the most remarkable men in the country, who had been
very eminent somewhere. Hurrying down to the landing-
place, they got it safe on board ; and waiting anxiously to see
the boat depart, stopped up the gangway : an instance of
neglect which caused the " Capting " of the Esau Slodge to
" wish he might be sifted fine as flour, and whittled small as
chips ; that if they didn't come off that there fixing right smart
too, he'd spill 'em in the drink : " whereby the Capting meta-
phorically said he'd throw them in the river.

They were not likely to receive an answer for eight or ten
weeks at the earliest. In the meantime they devoted such
strength as they had, to the attempted improvement of their
land ; to clearing some of it, and preparing it for useful pur-
poses. Monstrously defective as their farming was, still it was
better than their neighbors' ; for Mark had some practical
knowledge of such matters, and Martin learned of him ;
whereas the other settlers who remained upon the putrid swamp
(a mere handful, and those withered by disease), appeared to
have wandered there with the idea that husbandry was the
natural gift of all mankind. They helped each other after

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

529

their own manner in these struggles, and in all others ; but
they worked as hopelessly and sadly as a gang of convicts in
a penal settlement.

Often at night when Mark and Martin were alone, and
lying down to sleep, they spoke of home, familiar places,
houses, roads, and people whom they knew ; sometimes in the
lively hope of seeing theni again, and sometimes with a sor-
rowful tranquillity, as if that hope were dead. It was a source
of great amazement to Mark Tapley to find, pervading all
these conversations, a singular alteration in Martin.

" I don't know what to make .of him," he thought one
night, " he ain't what I supposed. He don't think of himself
half as much. Ill trv him again. Asleep, sir } "

" No, Mark."

" Thinking of home, sir .-' "

"Yes, Mark."

" So was I, sir. I was wondering how Mr. Pinch and Mr.
Pecksniff gets on now."

" Poor Tom ! " said Martin, thoughtfully.

"Weak-minded man, sir," observed Mr. Tapley. "Plays
the organ for nothing, sir. Takes no care of himself ? "

" I wish he took a little more, indeed," said Martin.
"Though I don't know why I should. We shouldn't like him
half as well, perhaps."

" He gets put upon, sir," hinted Mark.

" Yes," said Martin, after a short silence. " / know that,
Mark."

He spoke so regretfully, that his partner abandoned the
theme, and was silent for a short time, until he had thought of
another.

'' Ah, sir ! " said Mark, with a sigh. " Dear me ! You've
ventured a good deal for a young lady's love ! "

" I tell you what. I'm not so sure of that, Mark," was the
reply ; so hastily and energetically spoken, that Martin sat up
in his bed to give it. " I begin to be far from clear upon it.
You may depend upon it, she is very unhappy. She has sac-
rificed her peace of mind ; she has endangered her interests
ver}' much ; she can't run away from those who are jealous of
her, and opposed to her, as I have done. She has to endure,
Mark : to endure without the possibility of action, poor girl !
I begin to think she has more to bear than ever I have had.
Upon my soul I do ! "

Mr. Tapley opened his eyes wide, in the dark ■ but did not
interrupt. 34

530 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

"And I'll tell you a secret, Mark," said Martin, "since we
are upon this subject. That ring — "

" Which ring, sir ! " Mark inquired : opening his eyes still
wider.

" That ring she gave me when we parted, Mark. She
bought it ; bought it • knowing I was poor and proud (Heaven
help me ! Proud !) and wanted money,"

" Who savs so, sir ? " asked Mark.

" I say so. I know it. I thought of it, my good fellow,
hundreds of times, while you were lying ill. And like a beast,
I took it from her hand, and wore it on my own, and never
dreamed of this even at the moment when I parted with it,
when some faint glimmering of the truth might surely have
possessed me ! But it's late," said Martin, checking himself,
"and you are weak and tired, I know. You only talk to cheer
me up. Good night! God bless you Mark I"

" God bless you, sir ! But I'm reg'larly defrauded," thought
Mr. Tapley, turning round, with a happy face. " It's a swindle.
I never entered for this sort of service. There'll be no credit
in being jolly with Jiwi /"

The time wore on, and other steam boats coming from the
point on which their hopes were fixed, arrived to take in wood ;
but still no answer to the letter. Rain, heat, foul slime, and
noxious vapor, with all the ills and filthy things they bred,
prevailed. The earth, the air, the vegetation, and the water
that they drank, all teemed with deadly properties. Their
fellow-passenger had lost two children long before ; and buried
now her last. Such things are much too common to be widely
known or cared for. Smart citizens grow rich, and friendless
victims smart and die, and are forgotten. That is all.

At last, a boat came panting up the ugly river, and stopped
at Eden. Mark was waiting at the wood hut, when it came,
and had a letter handed to him from on board. He bore it
off to Martin. They looked at one another trembling.

" It feels heavy," faltered Martin. And opening it, a little
roll of dollar-notes fell out upon the ground.

What either of them said, or did, or felt, at first, neither of
them knew. All Mark could ever tell was, that he was at the
river's bank again out of breath, before the boat had gone,
inquiring when it would retrace its track and put in there.

The answer was, in ten or twelve days : notwithstanding
which, they began to get their goods together and to tie them
up, that very night. When this stage of excitement was passed,

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

531

each of them believed (they found this out, in talking of it
afterwards) that he would surely die before the boat returned.

They lived, however, and it came, after the lapse of three
long crawling weeks. At sunrise, on an autumn day, they
stood upon her deck.

"Courage ! We shall meet again! " cried Martin, waving
his hand to two thin figures on the bank. " In the Old
World ! "

" Or in the next one," added Mark below his breath. " I'o
see them standing side by side, so quiet, is a'most the worst
of all ! "

They looked at one another, as the vessel moved away,
and then looked backward at the spot from which it hurried
fast. The log-house, with the open door, and drooping trees
about it ; the stagnant morning mist, and red sun, dimly seen
beyond ; th'e vapor rising up from land and river ; the quick
stream making the loathsome banks it washed, more flat and
dull : how often they returned in dreams ! How often it was
happiness to wake, and find them Shadows that had vanished !

CPiAPTER XXXIV.

IN WHICH THE TRAVELLERS MOVE HOMEV^^ARD, AND ENCOUN-
TER SOME DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS UPON THE WAY.

Among the passengers on board the steamboat, there was
a faint gentleman sitting on a low camp-stool, with his legs on
a high barrel of flour, as if he were looking at the prospect
with his ankles ; who attracted their attention speedily.

He had straight black hair, parted up the middle of his
head, and hanging down upon his coat ; a little fringe of hair
upon his chin ; wore no neckcloth ; a white hat ; a suit of
black, long in the sleeves, and short in the legs ; soiled brown
stockings, and laced shoes. His complexion, naturally muddy,
was rendered muddier by too strict an economy of soap and
water ; and the same observation will apply to the washable
part of his attire, which he might have changed with comfort
to himself, and gratification to liis friends. He was about five
and thirty ; was crushed and jammed up in a heap, under the

532 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

shade of a large green cotton umbrella \ and ruminated over
his tobacco-plug like a cow.

He was not singular, to be sure, in these respects ; for
every gentleman on board appeared to have had a difference
with his laundress, and to have left off washing himself in
early youth. Every gentleman, too, was perfectly stopped up
with tight plugging, and was dislocated in the greater part of
his joints. But about this gentleman there was a peculiar air
of sagacity and wisdom, which convinced Martin that he was
no common character ; and this turned out to be the case.

" How do you do, sir ? " said a voice in Martin's ear.

" How do you do, sir ? " said Martin.

It was a tall thin gentleman who. spoke to him, with a
carpet-cap on, and a long loose coat of green baize, orna-
mented about the pockets with black velvet.

" You air from Europe, sir ? "

" I am," said Martin.

"You air fortunate, sir."

Martin thought so too : but he soon discovered that the
gentleman and he attached different meanings to this remark.

" You air fortunate, sir, in having an opportunity of be-
holding our Elijah Pogram, sir."

" Your Elijahpogram ! " said Martin, thinking it was all
one word, and a building of some sort.

" Yes, sir."

Martin tried to look as if he understood him, but he
couldn't make it out.

" Yes, sir," repeated the gentleman. " Our Elijah Pogram,
sir, is, at this minute, identically settin' by the en-gine biler."

The gentleman under the umbrella put his right foretinger
to his eyebrow, as if he were revolving schemes of state.

"That is Elijah Pogram, is it.''" said Martin.

"Yes, sir," replied the other. "That is Elijah Pogram."

" Dear me ! " said Martin. " I am astonished." But he
had not the least idea who this Elijah Pogram was ; having
never heard the name in all his life.

" If the biler of this vessel was Toe bust, sir," said his
new acquaintance, " and Toe bust now, this would be a festi-
val day in the calendar of despotism ; pretty nigh equallin',
sir, in its effects upon the human race, our Fourth of glorious
July. Yes, sir, that is the Honorable Elijah Pogram, Mem-
ber of Congress ; one of the master-minds of our country, sir.
There is a brow, sir, there ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. t^2>Z

"Quite remarkable," said Martin.

" Yes, sir. Our own immortal Chiggle, sir, is said to have
observed, when he made the celebrated Pogram statter in
marble, which rose so much con-test and preju-dice in
Europe, that the brow was more than mortal. This was
before the Pogram Defiance, and was, therefore, a pre-diction,
cruel smart."

" What is the Pogram Defiance ? " asked Martin think-
ing, perhaps, it was the sign of a public-house.

"An o-ration, sir," returned his friend.

"Oh! to be sure," cried Martin. "What am I thinking
of ! It defied—"

" It defied the world, sir," said the other, gravely. " De-
fied the world in general to com-pete with our country upon
any hook : and devellop'd our internal resources for making
war upon the universal airth. You would like to know Elijah
Pogram, sir ? "

" If you please," said Martin.

" Mr. Pogram," said the stranger — Mr. Pogram having
overheard every word of the dialogue — " this is a gentleman
from Europe, sir ; from England, sir. But gen'rous enemies
may meet upon the neutral sile of private life, I think."

The languid Mr. Pogram shook hands with Martin, like a
clock-work figure that was just running down. But he made
amends by chewing like one that was just wound up.

" Mr. Pogram," said the introducer, "is a public servant,
sir. When Congress is recessed, he inakes himself acquainted
with those free United States, of which he is the gifted son."

It occurred to Martin, that if the Honorable Elijah Pogram
had stayed at home, and sent his shoes upon a tour, they
would have answered the same purpose ; for they were the
only part of him in a situation to see anything.

In course of time, howe\er, Mr. Pogram rose ; and having
ejected certain plugging consequences which would have
impeded his articulation, took up a position where there was
something to lean against, and began to talk to Martin :
shading himself with the green umbrella all the time.

As he began with the words. "How do you like — .^ "
Martin took him up and said :

" The country I presume .'' "

" Yes, sir," said Elijah Pogram. A knot of passengers
gathered round to hear what followed : and Martin heard his
friend say, as he whispered to another friend, and rubbed his
hands, " Pogram will smash him into sky-blue fits I know ! "

^34 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Why," said Martin, after a moment's hesitation, " I have
learned by experience, that you take an unfair advantage of a
stranger, when you ask that question. Vou don't mean it to
be answered, except in one way. Now, 1 don't choose to
answer it in that way, for I cannot honestly answer it in that
way. And therefore, I would rather not answer it at all."

But Mr. Pogram was going to make a great speech in the
next session about foreign relations, and was going to write
strong articles on the subject ; and as he greatly favored the
free and independent custom (a very harmless and agreeable
one) of procuring information of any sort in any kind of con-
fidence, and afterwards perverting it publicly in any manner
that happened to suit him, he had determined to get at Mar-
tin's opinions somehow or other. For, if he could have got
nothing out of him, he would have had to invent it for him,
and that would have been laborious. He made a mental note
of his answer, and went in agam.

" You are from Eden, sir.? How did you like Eden ? '

Martin said what he thought of that part of the country, in
pretty strong terms.

"It is strange," said Pogram, looking round upon the
group, " this hatred of our country, and her Institutions ! This
national antipathy is deeply rooted in the British mind ! "

" Good Heaven, sir," cried Martin. " Is the Eden Land
Corporation, with Mr. Scadder at his head, and all the misery it
has worked, at its door, an Institution of America ? A part
of any form of government that ever was known or heard of .-' "

" I con-sider the cause of this to be," said Pogram, looking
round again and taking himself up where Martin had inter-
rupted him, " partly jealously and prejudice, and partly the
nat'ral unfitness of the British people to appreciate the ex-
alted Institutions of our native land. I expect, sir," turning
to ]\Iartin again, " that a gentleman named Chollop happened
in upon you during your lo-cation in the town of Eden ? "

"Yes," answered Martin; "but my friend can answer
this better than I can, for I was very ill at the time. Mark !
The gentleman is speaking of Mr. Chollop."

"Oh. Yes sir. Yes. /see him," observed Mark.

" A splendid example of our na-tive raw material, sir ? "
said Pogram, interrogatively.

" Indeed, sir ! " cried Mark.

The Honorable Elijah Pogram glanced at his friends as
though he would have said, " Observe this ! See what fol-

MA A' r/jV CHUZZLE WIT.

535

lows ! " and they rendered tribute to the Pogram genius, by a
gentle murmur.

"Our fellow-countryman is a model of a man, quite fresh
from Natur's mould ! " said Pogram, with enthusiasm. " He
is a true-born child of this free hemisphere ! Verdant as the
mountains of our country ; bright and tiowing as our mineral
Licks \ unspiled by withering conventionalities as air our
broad and boundless Perearers I Rough he may be. vSo air
our Barrs. Wild he may be. So air our Buffalers. But he
is a child of Natur', and a child of Freedom ; and his boastful
answer to the Despot and the Tyrant is, that his bright home
is in the Settin Sun."

Part of this referred to ChoUop, and part to a Western
postmaster, who, being a public defaulter not very long before
(a character not at all uncommon in America), had been re-
moved from ofhce ; and on whose behalf Mr. Pogram (he
voted for Pogram) had thundered the last sentence from his
seat in Congress, at the head of an unpopular President. It
told brilliantly ; for the bystanders were delighted, and one
of them said to Martin, "that he guessed he had now seen
something of the eloquential aspect of our country, and was
chawed up pritty small."

Mr. Pogram waited until his hearers were calm again, be-
fore he said to Mark :

" You do not seem to coincide, sir ? "

" Why," said Mark, " I didn't like him much ; and that's
the truth, sir. I thought he was a bully ; and I didn't admire
his carryin' them murderous little persuaders, and being so
ready to use 'em."

" It's singler ! " said Pogram, lifting his umbrella high
enough to look all round from under it. " It's strange ! You
observe the settled opposition to our Institutions which per-
vades the British mind ! "

" What an extraordinary people you are ! " cried Martin,
" Are Mr. Chollop and the class he represents, an Institution
here ? Are pistols with rexohing barrels, sword-sticks, bowie-
knives, and such things, Institutions on which you pride your-
selves ? Are bloody duels, brutal combats, savage assaults,
shooting down and stabbing in the streets, your Institutions !
Why, I shall hear next, that Dishonor and Fraud are among
the Institutions of the great republic ! "

The moment the words passed his lips, the Honorable
Elijah Pogram looked round again.

536

J]/A A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

"This morbid hatred of our Institutions," he observed,
" is quite a study for the psychological observer. He's alludin
to Repudiation now ! "

" Oh ! You may make anything an Institution if you like,"
said Martin, laughing, " and I confess you had me there, for
you certainly have made that, one. But the greater part of
these things are one Institution with us, and we call it by the
generic name of Old Bailey ! "

The bell being rung for dinner at this moment, everybody
ran away into the cabin, whither the Honorable Elijah Pogram
fled with such precipitation that he forgot his umbrella was up,
and fixed it so tightly in the cabin door that it could neither
be let down nor got out. For a minute or so this accident
created a perfect rebellion among the hungry passengers be-
hind, who, seeing the dishes, and hearing the knives and forks
at work, well knew what would happen unless they got there
instantly, and were nearly mad ; while several virtuous citizens
at the table were in deadly peril of choking themselves in
their unnatural efforts to get rid of all the meat before these
others came.

They carried the umbrella by storm, however, and rushed
in at the breach. The Honorable Elijah Pogram and Martin
found themselves, after a severe struggle, side by side, as they
might have come together in the pit of a London theatre ; and
for four whole minutes afterwards, Pogram was snapping up
great blocks of everything he could get hold of, like a raven.
When he had taken this unusually protracted dinner, he began
to talk to Martin ; and begged him not to have the least deli-
cacy in speaking with perfect freedom to him, for he was a
calm philosopher. Which Martin was extremely glad to hear ;
for he had begun to speculate on Elijah being a disciple of
that other school of republican philosophy, whose noble senti-
ments are carved with knives upon a pupil s body, and written,
not with pen and ink, but tar and feathers.

"What do you think of my countrymen who are present,
sir .'' " inquired Elijah Pogram.

"Oh ! very pleasant," said Martin.

They were a very pleasant party. No man had spoken a
word ; every one had been intent, as usual, on his own private
gorging ; and the greater part of the company were decidedly
dirty feeders.

The Honorable Elijah Pogram looked at Martin as if he
thought "'You don't mean that, I know! " and he was soon
confirmed in this opinion.

MARTIN CHUZZLFAITT.

537

Sitting opposite to them was a gentleman in a high state
of tobacco, who wore quite a Httle beard, coniposed of the
overtiowings of that weed, as they had dried about his moutli
and chin ; so common an ornament that it would scarcely
have attracted Martin's observation, but that this good citizen,
burning to assert his equality against all comers, sucked his
knife for some moments, and made a cut with it at the butter,
just as Martin was in the act of taking some. There was a
juiciness about the deed that might have sickened a scavenger.

" When Elijah Pogram (to whom this was an every-day
incident) saw that Martin put the plate away, and took no
butter, he was quite delighted, and said,

" Well ! The morbid hatred of you British to the Institu-
tions of our country is as-TONishing ! "

" Upon my life ! " cried Martin, in his turn. " This is the
most wonderful community that ever existed. A man deliber-
ately makes a hog of himself, and that's an Institution ! "

"We have no time to acquire forms, sir," said Elijah
Pogram.

" Acquire ! " cried Martin. " But it's not a question of ac-
quiring anything. It's a question of losing the natural polite-
ness of a savage, and that instinctive good-breeding which
admonishes one man not to offend and disgust another.
Don't you think that man over the way, for instance, naturally
knows better, but considers it a very fine and independent
thing to be a brute in small matters ? "

" He is a na-tive of our country, and is nat-rally bright and
spry, of course," said Mr. Pogram.

" Now, observe what this comes to, Mr. Pogram," pursued
Martin. "The mass of your countrymen begin by stubbornly
neglecting little social observances, which have nothing to do
with gentility, custom, usage, government, or country, but are
acts of common, decent, natural, human politeness. You abet
them in this, by resenting all attacks upon their social offences
as if they were a beautiful national feature. Erom disregard-
ing small obligations they come in regular course to disregard
great ones ; and so refuse to pay their debts. What they may
do, or what they may refuse to do next, I don't know ; but
any man may see if he will, that it will be something following
in natural succession, and a part of one great growth, which is
rotten at the root."

The mind of Mr. Pogram was too philosophical to see
this ; so they went on deck again, where, resuming his former

538

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

post, he chewed until he was in a lethargic state, amounting to
insensibility.

After a wear}- voyage of several days, they came again to
that same wharf where Mark had been so nearly left behind,
on the night of starting for Eden. Captain Kedgick, the land-
lord, was standing there, and was greatly surprised to see them
coming from the boat.

" Why, what the 'tarnal ! " cried the Captain. " Well ! I
do admire at this, I do ! "

"We can stay at your house until to-morrow, Captain, I
suppose ? " said Martin.

" I reckon you can stay there for a twelvemonth if you
like," retorted Kedgick coolly. "But our people won't best
like your coming back."

" Won't like" it. Captain Kedgick ! " said Martin.
"They did ex-pect you was a-going to settle," Kedgick
answered, as he shook his head. " They've been took in, you
can't deny ! "

" What do you mean ? " cried Martin.
" You didn't ought to have received 'em," said the Cap-
tain. " No, you didn't ! "

"My good friend," returned Martin, "did I want to re-
ceive them ? Was it any act of mine ? Didn't you tell me
they would rile up, and that I should be flayed like a wild cat
— and threaten all kinds of vengeance, if I didn't receive
them ? "

" 1 don't know about that," returned the Captain. " But
when our people's frills is out, they're starched up pretty stiff,
I tell you ! "

With that he fell into the rear to walk with Mark, while
Martin and Elijah Pogram went on to the National.
" We've come back alive, you see ! " said Mark.
" It ain't the thing I did expect," the Captain grumbled,
" A man ain't got no right to be a public man, unless he
meets the public views. Our fashionable people wouldn't
have attended his le-vee, if they had know'd it."

Nothing mollified the Captain, who persisted in taking it
very ill that they had not both died in Eden. The boarders
at the National felt strongly on the subject too ; but it hap-
pened by good fortune that they had not much time to
think about this grievance, for it was suddenly determined to
pounce upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram, and give him a
le-vee forthwith.

<

H
H

X
w

>

>
r

n
2

o

n
>

•-3

r-
r

o
o

?3

C
O

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 53c;

As the general eveninp; meal of the house was over before the
arrival of the boat, Martin, Mark, and Pogram, were taking tea
and fixings at the public table hy themselves, when the depu-
tation entered, to announce this honor, consisting of six
gentlemen boarders, and a very shrill boy.

" Sir ! " said the spokesman.

" Mr. Pogram ! " cried the shrill boy.

The spokesman thus reminded of the shrill boy's presence,
introduced him. " Doctor Ginery Dunkle, sir. A gentleman
of great poetical elements. He has recently jined us here,
sir, and is an acquisition to us, sir, I do assure you. Yes, sir.
Mr. Jodd, sir. Mr. Izzard, sir. Mr. Julius Bib, sir."

" Julius Washington Merryweather Bib," said the gentle-
man himself to himself.

" I beg your pardon, sir. Excuse me. ]\Ir. Julius Wash-
ington Merryweather Bib, sir ; a gentleman in the lumber
line, sir, and much esteemed. Colonel Groper, sir. Pro-fes-
sor Piper, sir. My own name, sir, is Oscar Buffum."

Each man took one slide forward as he was named ; but-
ted at the Honorable Elijah Pogram with his head ; shook
hands, and slid back again. The introductions being com-
pleted, the spokesman resumed.

"Sir!"

" Mr. Pogram ! " cried the shrill boy.

" Perhaps," said the spokesman, with a hopeless look, you
will be so good. Dr. Ginery Dunkle, as to charge yourself with
the execution of our little ofihce, sir ? "

As there was nothing the shrill boy desired more, he im-
mediately stepped forward.

" Mr. Pogram ! Sir ! A handful Of your fellow-citizens,
sir, hearing Of your arrival at the National Hotel, and feeling,
the patriotic character Of your public services, wish, sir, to
have the gratification Of beholding you, and mixing with you
sir ; and unbending with you, sir, in those moments which — "

" Air," suggested Buffum.

"Which air so peculiarly the lot, sir. Of our great and
happy country."

" Hear ! " cried Colonel Groper, in a loud voice. " Good !
Hear him ! Good ! "

"And therefore, sir," pursued the Doctor, "they request,
as A mark of their respect, the honor of your company at a
little le-Vee, sir, in the ladies' ordinary, at eight o'clock."

Mr. Pogram bowed, and said :

2^0 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Fellow-countrymen ! "

" Good ! " cried the Colonel. " Hear him ! Good ! '

Mr. Pogram bowed to the Colonel individually, and then
resumed :

" Your approbation of My labors in the common cause,
goes to My heart. At all times and in all places ; in the la-
dies' ordinary, My friends, and in the Battle Field — "

" Good, very good ! Hear him ! Hear him ! " said the
Colonel.

" The name Of Pogram will be proud to jine you. And
mav it. My friends, be written on My tomb, ' He was a mem-
ber of the Con-gress of our common country, and was ac-Tive
in his trust.' "

"The Com-mittee, sir," said the shrill boy, " will wait upon
you at five minutes afore eight. I take My leave, sir ! "

Mr. Pogram shook hands with him, and everybody else,
once more ; and when they came back again at five minutes
before eight, they said, one by one, in a melancholy voice,
" How do you do, sir ? " and shook hands with Mr. Pogram
all over again, as if he had been abroad for a twelvemonth in
the meantime, and they met, now, at a funeral.

But, by this time Mr. Pogram had freshened himself up,
and had composed his hair and features after the Pogram
statue, so that any one with half an e\'e might cry out,
" There he is ! as he delivered the Defiance .-" " The Com-
mittee were embellished also ; and when they entered the
ladies' ordniary in a body, there was much clapping of hands
from ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by cries of " Pogram !
Pogram ! " and some standing up on chairs to see him.

The object of the popular caress looked round the room
as he walked up it, and smiled ; at the same time observing
to the shrill boy, that he knew something of the beauty of the
daughters of their common country, but had never seen it in
such lustre and perfection as at that moment. Which the
shrill boy put in the paper next day ; to Elijah Pogram's
great surprise.

" We will re-quest you, sir, if you please," said Buffum,
laying hands on Mr. Pogram as if he were taking his measure
for a coat, " to stand up with your back agin the wall right in
the furthest corner, that there may be more room for our fel-
low-cit-izens. If you could set your back right slap agin that
curtain-peg, sir, keeping your left leg everlastingly behind the
stove, we should be fixed quite slick."

MAR TIN C MUZZLE IVIT^ ^ 4 1

Mr. Pogram did as he was told, and wedged himself into
such a little corner, that the Pogram statue wouldn't have
known him.

The entertainments of the evening then began. Gentle-
men brought ladies up, and brought themselves up, and
brought each other up ; and asked Elijah Pogram what he
thought of this political question, and what he thought of
that ; and looked at him, and looked at one another, and
seemed very unhappy indeed. The ladies on the chairs
looked at Elijah Pogram through their glasses, and said audi-
bly, " I wish he'd speak. Why don't he speak. Oh, do ask
him to speak ! " And Elijah Pogram looked sometimes at
the ladies and sometimes elsewhere, delivering senatorial
opinions, as he was asked for them. But the great end and
object of the meeting seemed to be, not to let Elijah Pogram
out of the corner on any account : so there they kept him,
hard and fast.

A great bustle at the door, in the course of the evening,
announced the arrival of some remarkable person ; and im-
mediately afterwards an elderly gentleman, much excited, was
seen to precipitate himself upon the crowd, and battle his
way towards the Monorable Elijah Pogram. Martin, who had
found a snug place of observation in a distant corner, where
he stood with Mark beside him (for he did not so often forget
him now as formerly, though he still did sometimes), thought
he knew this g-entleman, but had no doubt of it, when he cried
as loud as he could, with his eyes starting out of his head :

" Sir, Mrs. Hominy ! "

"Lord bless that woman, Mark. She has turned up
again ! "

"Here she comes, sir." answered Mr. Tapley. "Pogram
knows her. A public character ! Always got her eye upon
her country, sir ! If that there lady's husband is of my opin-
ion, what a jolly old gentleman he nmst be ! "

A lane was made, and Mrs. Hominy, with the aristocratic
stock, the pocket handkerchief, the clasped hands, and the
classical cap, came slowly up it, in a procession of one. Mr.
Pogram testified emotions of delight on seeing her, and a
general hush prevailed. For it was known that when a woman
like Mrs. Hominy encountered a man like Pogram, something
interesting must be said.

Their first salutations were exchanged in a voice too low
to reach the impatient ears of the throng \ but they soon be-

5 42 'MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

came audible, for Mrs. Hominy felt her position, and knew
what was expected of her.

Mrs. H. was hard upon him at first, and put him through
a rigid catechism in reference to a certain vote he had given,
which she had found it necessar\', as the mother of the modern
Gracchi, to deprecate in a line by itself, set up expressly for
the purpose in German text. But Mr. Pogram evading it by
a well-timed allusion to the star-spangled banner, which, it
appeared, had the remarkable peculiarity of flouting the
breeze whenever it was hoisted where the wind blew, she
forgave him. They now enlarged on certain questions of
tariff, commercial treaty, boundary, importation and exporta-
tion, with great effect. And Mrs. Hominy not only talked,
as the saying is, like a book, but actually did talk her own
books, word for word.

" My ! what is this ? " cried Mrs. Hominy, opening a little
note which was handed her by her excited gentleman-usher,
" Do tell ! oh, well, now ! on'y think ! "

And then she read aloud, as follows :

" Two literary ladies present their compliments to the
mother of the modern Gracchi and claim her kind introduc-
tion, as their talented countrywoman, to the honorable (and
distinguished) Elijah Pogram, whom the two L. L.'s have
often contemplated in the speaking marble of the soul-subdu-
ing Chiggle. On a verbal intimation from the mother of the
M.G., that she will comply with the request of the two L. L.'s,
they will have the immediate pleasure of joining the galaxy
assembled to do honor to the patriotic conduct of a Pogram.
It may be another bond of union between the two L. L.'s and
the mother of the M. G. to observe, that the two L. L.'s are
Transcendental."

Mrs. Hominy promptly rose, and proceeded to the door,
whence she returned, after a short interval, with the two L. L.'s,
whom she led, through the lane in the crowd, with all that state-
liness of deportment which was so remarkably her own, up to
the great Elijah Pogram. It was (as the shrill boy cried
out in an ecstasy) quite the Last Scene from Coriolanus.

One of the L. L.'s wore a brown wig of uncommon size.
Sticking on the forehead of the other, by invisible means,
was a massi\'e cameo, in size and shape like the raspberrv' tart
which is ordinarily sold for a penny, representing on its
front the Capitol at Washington.

" Miss Toppit, and Miss Codger ! " said Mrs. Hominy.

MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. ^43

" Codger's the lady so often mentioned in the EngUsh
newspapers, I should think, sir," whispered Mark. '" The
oldest inhabitant as never remembers anything."

" I'o be presented to a Pogram," said Miss Codger, "by
a Hominy, indeed, a thrilling moment is it in its impressive-
ness on what we call our feelings. But why we call them so,
or why impressed they are, or if impressed they are at all, or
if at all we are, or if there really is, oh gasping one ! a Pogram
or a Hominy, or any active principle to which we give those
titles, is a topic. Spirit searching, light abandoned, much too
vast to enter on, at this unlooked-for crisis."

"Mind and matter," said the lady in the wig, "glide
swift into the vortex of immensity. Howls the sublime, and
softly sleeps the calm Ideal, in the whispering chambers of
Imagination. To hear it, sweet it is. But then, outlaughs
the stern philosopher, and saith to the Grotesque, ' What ho !
arrest for me that Agency. Go, bring it here ! ' And so the
vision fadeth."

After this, they both took Mr. Pogram by the hand, and
pressed it to their lips, as a patriotic palm. That homage
paid, the mother of the modern Gracchi called for chairs, and
the three literary ladies went to work in earnest, to bring
poor Pogram out, and make him show himself in all his bril-
liant colors.

How Pogram got out of his depth instantly, and how the
L. L.'s were never in theirs, is a piece of history not worth re-
cording. Suffice it, that being all four out of their depths,
and all unable to swim, they splashed upwards in all direc-
tions, and floundered about famously. On the whole, it was
considered to have been the severest mental exercise ever
heard in the National Hotel. Tears stood in the shrill boy's
eyes several times ; and the whole company observed that
their heads ached with the effort — as well they might.

When it at last became necessary to release f^lijah Pogram
from the corner, and the committee saw him safely back again
to the next room, they were fervent in their admiration.

" Which," said Mr. Buffum, " must have vent, or it will bust.
Toe you, Mr. Pogram, I am grateful. Toe-wards you, sir, I
am inspired with lofty veneration, and with deep e-mo-tion.
The sentiment Toe which I would propose to give ex-pression,
sir, is this : ' May you ever be as firm, sir, as your marble stat-
ter ! May it ever be as great a terror Toe its enemies as you.' "

There is some reason to suppose that it was rather terrible

544

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

to its friends ; being a statue of the Elevated or Goblin
School, in which the Honorable Elijah Pogram was represented
as in very high wind, with his hair all standing on end, and
his nostrils blown wide open. But Mr. Pogram thanked his
friend and countryman for the aspiration to which he had
given utterance, and the Committee, after another solemn
shaking of hands, retired to bed, except the doctor, who imme-
diately repaired to the newspaper-office, and there wrote a short
poem suggested by the events of the evening, beginning with
fourteen stars, and headed, " A Fragment. Suggested by wit-
nessing the Honorable Elijah Pogram engaged in a philo-
sophical disputation with three of Columbia's fairest daugh-
ters. By Doctor Ginery Dunkle. Of Troy."

If Pogram was as glad to get to bed as Martin was, he
must have been well rewarded for his labors. They started
off again next day (Martin and Mark previously disposing of
their goods to the storekeepers of whom they had purchased
them for anything they would bring), and were fellow-trav-
ellers to within a short distance of New York. When Pogram
was about to leave them he grew thoughtful, and after ponder-
ing for some time, took Martin aside.

" We air all going to part, sir," said Pogram.

" Pray don't distress yourself," said Martin ; " we must
bear it."

" It ain't that, sir," returned Pogram, " not at all. But I
should wish you to accept a copy of My oration,"

"Thank you," said Martin, "you are very good, I shall
be most happy."

" It ain't quite that, sir, neither," resumed Pogram : " air
you bold enough to introduce a copy into your country' ? "

" Certainly," said Martin. " Why not t "

" It's sentiments air strong, sir," hinted Pogram, darkly,

" That makes no difference," said Martin. " I'll take a
dozen if you like."

" No sir," reported Pogram. "Not A dozen. That is
more than I require. If you are content to run the hazard,
sir, here is one for your Lord Chancellor," producing it, "and
one for Your principal Secretar}- of State. I should wish
them to see it, sir, as expressing what my opinions air. That
they may not plead ignorance at a future time. But don't
get into danger, sir, on my account ! "

" There is not the least danger, I assure you," said Martin.
So he put the pamphlets in his pocket, and they parted.

MART/A' CHUZZLEWIT. 545

Mr. Bevan had written in Iiis letter that, at a certain time,
which fell out happily just then, he would be at a certain hotel
in the city, anxiously expecting to see them. To this place
they repaired without a moment's delay. They had the sat-
isfaction of finding him within ; and of being received, by
their good friend, with his own warmth and heartiness.

'' I am truly sorry and ashamed," said Martin, " to have
begged of you. But look at us. See what we are, and judge
to what we are reduced ! "

"So far from claiming to have done you any service," re-
turned the other, " I reproach myself with having been, un-
wittingly, the original cause of your misfortunes. I no more
supposed you would go to Eden on such representation as
you received ; or, indeed, that you would do anything but be
dispossessed, by the readiest means, of your idea that for-
tunes were so 'easily made here, than I thought of going to
Eden myself."

" The fact is, I closed with the thing in a mad and san-
guine manner," said Martin, "and the less said about it the
better for me. Mark, here, hadn't a \'oice in the matter."

"Well! But he hadn't a voice in any other matter, had
he ? " returned Mr. Bevan, laughing with an air that showed
his understanding of Mark and Martin too.

" Not a very powerful one, I am afraid," said Martin with
a blush. " But live and learn, Mr. Bevan ! Nearly die and
learn : and we learn the quicker."

" Now," said their friend, " about your plans. You mean
to return home at once ? "

"Oh, I think so," returned Martin hastily, for he turned
pale at the thought of any other suggestion. " That is your
opinion too, I hope ? "

" Unquestionably. For I don't know why you ever came
here ; though it's not such an unusual case, I am sorry to say,
that we need go any farther into that. You don't know that
the ship in which you came over, with our friend General
Fladdock, is in port, of course .'' "

" Indeed ! " said Martin.

" Yes. And is advertised to sail to-morrow."

This was tempting news, but tantalizing too, for Martin
knew that his getting any employment on board a ship of that
class was hopeless. The money in liis pocket would not pay
one-fourth of the sum he had alreadv borrowed, and if it had
been enough for their passage-money, he could hardly have

35

5 46 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

resolved to spend it. He explained this to Mr. Bevan, and
stated what their project was.

" Why, that's as wild as Eden every bit," returned his friend.
" You must take your passage like a Christian ; at least, as
like a Christian as a fore-cabin passenger can ; and owe me
a few more dollars than you intend. If Mark will go down to
the ship and see what passengers there are, and finds that you
can go in her, without being actually suffocated, my advice is,
go ! You and I will look about us in the meantime (we won't
call at the Norris's unless you like), and we will all three dine
together in the afteraoon."

Martin had nothing to express but gratitude, and so it was
arranged. But he went out of the room after Mark, and ad-
vised him to take their passage in the Screw, though they lay
upon the bare deck, which Mr. Tapley, who needed no en-
treaty on the subject, readily promised to do.

When he and Martin met again, and were alone, he was
in high spirits, and evidently had something to communicate,
in which he gloried very much.

" I've done Mr. Bevan, sir," said Mark.

" Done Mr. Bevan ! " repeated Martin.

" The cook of the Screw went and got married yesterday,
sir," said Mr. Tapley.

Martin looked at him for farther explanation.

" And when I got on board, and the word was passed that
it was me," said Mark, " the mate he comes and asks me
whether I'd engage to take this said cook's place upon the
passage home. ' For you're used to it,' he says, ' you were
always a cooking for everybody on your passage out.' And so
I was," said Mark, "although I never cooked before, I'll take
my oath."

" What did you say ? " demanded Martin,

"Say!" cried Mark. "That I'd take anything I could
get. ' If that's so,' says the mate, ' why, bring a glass of rum ; '
which they brought according. And my wages, sir," said
Mark in high glee " pays your passage ; and I've put the roll-
ing-pin in your berth to take it (it's the easy one up in the
corner) ; and there we are. Rule Britannia, and Britons strike
home ! "

" There never was such a good fellow as you are ! " cried
Martin, seizing him by the hand. " But what do you mean
by ' doing ' Mr. Bevan, Mark >. "

" Why, don't you see," said, Mark. "We don't tell him,

MAR TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 547

you know. We take his money, but we don't spend it, and
we don't keep it. What we do is, write him a Httle note, ex-
plaining this engagement, and roll it up, and leave it at the
bar, to be given to him after we are gone. Don't you see ? "

Martin's delight in this idea was not inferior to Mark's.
It was all done as he proposed. They passed a cheerful
evening, slept at the hotel, left the letter as arranged, and
went off to the ship betimes next morning, with such light
hearts, as the weight of their past miseries engendered.

" Good-by ! a hundred thousand times good-by ! " said
Martin to their friend. " How shall I remember all your kind-
ness ! How shall I ever thank you ! "

" If you ever become a rich man, or a powerful one," re-
turned his friend, " you shall tiy to make your Government
more careful of its subjects when they roam abroad to live.
Tell it what you know of emigration in your own case, and
impress upon it how much suffering may be prevented with a
little pains ! "

Cheerily lads, cheerily ! Anchor weighed. Ship in full
sail. Her sturdy bowsprit pointed true to England. America
a cloud upon the sea behind them !

" Why, Cook ? what are you thinking of so steadily? " said
Martin.

" Why, I was a thinking, sir," returned Mark, " that if I was
a painter and was called upon to paint the American Eagle,
how should I do it .■' "

" Paint it as like an Eagle as you could, I suppose."

"No," said Mark. "That wouldn't do for me, sir. I
should want to draw it like a Bat, for its short-sightedness ;
like a Bantam, for its bragging ; like a Magpie, for its , hon-
esty ; like a Peacock, for its vanity ; like an Ostrich, for its
putting its head in the mud, and thinking nobody sees it — "'

" And like a Phoenix, for its power of springing from the
ashes of its faults and vices, and soaring up anew into the
sky ! " said Martin. " Well, Mark. Let us hope so."

548

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

\ CHAPTER XXXV.

ARRIVING IN ENGLAND, MARTIN WITNESSES A CEREMONY, FROM
WHICH HE DERIVES THE CHEERING INFORMATION THAT HE
HAS NOT BEEN FORGOTTEN IN HIS ABSENCE.

It was mid-day, and high water in the English port for
which the Screw was bound, when, borne in gallantly upon the
fullness of the tide, she let go her anchor in the river.

Bright as the scene was ; fresh, and full of motion ; air}',
free, and sparkling ; it was nothing to the life and exultation
in the breasts of the two travellers, at sight of the old
churches, roofs, and darkened chimney stacks of Home. The
distant roar, that swelled up hoarsely from the busy streets,
was music in their ears ; the lines of people gazing from the
wharves, were friends held dear ; the canopy of smoke that
overhung the town, was brighter and more beautiful to them,
than if the richest silks of Persia had been waving in the air.
And though the water, going on its glistening track, turned,
ever and again, aside, to dance and sparkle round great ships,
and heave them up ; and leaped from off the blades of oars,
a shower of diving diamonds ; and wantoned with the idle
boats, and swiftly passed, in many a sportive chase, through
obdurate old iron rings, set deep into the stone-work of the
quays ; not even it was half so buoyant, and so restless, as
their fluttering hearts, when yearning to set foot, once more,
on native ground.

A year had passed since those same spires and roofs had
faded from their eyes. It seemed, to them, a dozen years.
Some trifling changes, here and there, they called to mind ;
and wondered that they were so few and slight. In health
and fortune, prospect and resource, they came back poorer
men than they had gone away. But it was home. And
though home is a name, a word, it is a strong one ; stronger
than magician ever spoke, or spirit answered to, in strongest
conjuration.

Being set ashore, with ver>- little money in their pockets,
and no definite plan of operation in their heads, they sought
out a cheap tavern, where they regaled upon a smoking steak,
and certain flowing mugs of beer, as only men just landed

MA R TIN ClfUZZLE WIT. 5 4g

from the sea can revel in the generous dainties of the earth.
When they had feasted, as two grateful-tempered giants might
have done, they stirred the fire, drew back the glowing cur-
tain from the window, and making each a sofa for himself, by
union of the great unwieldly chairs, gazed blissfully into the
street.

Even the street was made a fairy street, by being half hid-
den in an atmosphere of steak, and strong, stout, stand-up
English beer. For, on the window-glass hung such a mist,
that Mr. Tapley was obliged to rise and wipe it with his hand-
kerchief, before the passengers appeared like common mortals.
And even then, a spiral little cloud went curling up from
their two glasses of hot grog, which nearly hid them from each
other.

It was one of those unaccountable little rooms which are
never seen anywhere but in a tavern, and are supposed to
have got into taverns by reason of the facilities afforded to
the architect for getting drunk while engaged in their con-
struction. It had more corners in it than the brain of an
obstinate man ; was full of mad closets, into which nothing
could be put that was not specially invented and made for
that purpose ; had mysterious shelvings and bulk-heads, and
indications of staircases in the ceiling ; and was elaborately
provided with a bell that rung in the room itself, about two
feet from the handle, and had no connection whatever with
any other part of the establishment. It was a little below the
pavement, and abutted close upon it ; so that passengers
grated against the window panes with their buttons, and
scraped it with their baskets ; and fearful boys suddenly com-
ing between a thoughtful guest and the light, derided him, or
put out their tongues as if he were a physician ; or made white
knobs on the ends of their noses by flattening the same
against the glass, and vanished awfully, like spectres.

Martin and Mark sat looking at the people as they passed,
debating ever}' now and then, what their first step should be.

" We want to see Miss Mary, of course," said Mark.

" Of course," said Martin. " But I don't know where she
is. Not having had the heart to write in our distress — you
yourself thought silence most advisable — and consequently,
never having heard from her since we left New York the first
time, I don't know where she is, my good fellow."

" My opinion is, sir," returned Mark, " that what we've got
to do, is to trave straight to the Dragon. There's no need

55°

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

for you to go there, where you're known, unless you like.
You may stop ten mile short of it. I'll go on. Mrs. Lupin
will tell me all the news. Mr. Pinch will give me every infor-
mation that we want, and right glad Mr. Pinch will be to do
it. My proposal is : To set off walking this afternoon. To
stop when we are tired. To get a lift when we can. To walk
when we can't. To do it at once, and do it cheap."

" Unless we do it cheap, we shall have some difficulty in
doing it at all," said Martin, jDuUing out the bank, and telling
it over in his hand.

"The greater reason for losing no time, sir," replied
Mark. " Whereas, when you've seen the young lady, and
know what state of mind the old gentleman's in, and all about
it, then you'll know what to do next."

" No doubt," said Martin. " You are quite right."

They were raising their glasses to their lips, when their
hands stopped midway, and their gaze v/as arrested by a
figure which slowly, very slowly, and reflectively, passed the
window at that moment.

Mr. Pecksniff. Placid, calm, but proud. Honestly proud.
Dressed with peculiar care, smiling with even more than usual
blandness, pondering on the beauties of his art with a mild
abstraction from all sordid thoughts, and gently travelling
across the disc, as if he were a figure in a magic lantern.

As Mr Pecksniff passed, a person coming in the opposite
direction stopped to look after him with great interest and
respect, almost with veneration ; and the landlord bouncing
out of the house, as if he had seen him too, joined this person,
and spoke to him, and shook his head gravely, and looked-
after Mr. Pecksniff likewise.

Martin and Mark sat staring at each other, as if they
could not believe it ; but there stood the landlord, and the
other man still. In spite of the indignation with which this
glimpse of Mr. Pecksniff had inspired him, Martin could not
help laughing heartily. Neither could Mark.

" We must inquire into this ! " said Martin. " Ask the
landlord in, Mark."

Mr. Tapley retired for that purpose, and immediately re-
turned with their large-headed host in safe convoy.

" Pray, landlord ! " said Martin, " who is that gentleman
who passed just now, and whom you were looking after ? "

The landlord poked the fire as if, in his desire to make the
most of his answer, he had become indifferent even to the

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 551

price of coals, and putting his hands in his pockets, said, after
inflating himself to give still further effect to his reply :

" That, gentlemen, is the great Mr. PecksnifiE ! The cele-
brated architect, gentlemen ! "

He looked from one to the other while he said it, as if he
were ready to assist the first man who might be overcome by
the intelligence.

" The great Mr. Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentle-
men," said the landlord, " has come down here, to help to lay
the first stone of a new and splendid public building."

" Is it to be built from his designs?" asked Martin.

" The great Mr. Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gen-
tlemen," returned the landlord, who seemed to have an
unspeakable delight in the repetition of these words, " carried
off the First Premium, and will erect the building."

" Who lays the stone ? " asked Martin.

" Our member has come down express," returned the land-
lord. " No scrubs would do for no such a purpose. Nothing
less would satisfy our Directors than our member in the House
of Commons, who is returned upon the Gentlemanly Interest."

"What interest is that ?" asked Martin.

" What, don't you know ! " returned the landlord.

It was quite clear the landlord didn't. They always told
him at election time, that it was the Gentlemanly side, and he
immediately put on his top-boots, and voted for it.

" When does the ceremony take place ? " asked Martin.

" This day," replied the landlord. Then pulling out his
watch, he added, impressively, " almost this minute."

Martin hastily inquired whether there was any possibility

•of getting in to witness it, and finding that there would be

no objection to the admittance of any decent person, unless

indeed the ground were full, hurried off with Mark, as hard

as they could go.

They were fortunate enough to squeeze themselves into a
famous corner on the ground, where they could see all that
passed, without much dread of being beheld by Mr. Peck-
sniff in return. They were not a minute too soon, for as
they were in the act of congratulating each other, a great
noise was heard at some distance, and ever\'body looked to-
wards the gate. Several ladies prepared their pocket hand-
kerchiefs for waving ; and a stray teacher belonging to the
charit}^ school being much cheered by mistake, was immensely
groaned at when detected.

252 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

" Perhaps he has Tom Pinch with him," Martin whispered
Mr. Tapley.

" It would be rather too much of a treat for him, wouldn't
it, sir ? " whispered Mr. Tapley in return.

There was no time to discuss the probabilities either way,
for the charity school, in clean linen, came tiling in two and
two, so much to the self-approval of all the people present
who didn't subscribe to it, that many of them shed tears. A
band of music followed, led by a conscientious drummer who
never left off. Then came a great many gentlemen with wands
in their hands, and bows on their breasts, whose share in the
proceedings did not appear to be distinctly laid down, and
who trod upon each other, and blocked up the entry for a
considerable period. These were followed by the Mayor and
Corporation, all clustering round the member for the Gen-
tlemanly Interest, who had the great Mr. Pecksniff, the
celebrated architect, on his right hand, and conversed with
him familiarly as they came along. Then the ladies waved
their handkerchiefs, and the gentlemen their hats, and the
charity children shrieked, and the member for the Gentle-
manly Interest bowed.

Silence being restored, the member for the Gentlemanly
Interest rubbed his hands and wagged his head, and looked
about him pleasantly ; and there was nothing this member
did, at which some lady or other did not burst into an ecstatic
waving of her pocket handkerchief. When he looked up at
the stone, they said how graceful ! when he peeped into the
hole, they said how condescending ! when he chatted with
the Mayor, they said how easy ! when he folded his arms
they cried with one accord, how statesman-like !

Mr. Pecksniff was observed too ; closely. When he talked
to the Mayor, they said. Oh, really, what a courtly man he
was ! When he laid his hand upon the mason's shoulder,
giving him directions, how pleasant his demeanor to the work-
ing classes : just the sort of man who made their toil a pleas-
ure to them, poor dear souls !

But now a silver trowel was brought ; and when the mem-
ber for the Gentlemanly Interest, tucking up his coat-sleeve,
did a little slight-of-hand with the mortar, the air was rent, so
loud was the applause. The workman-like manner in which
he did it was amazing. No one could conceive where such a
gentlemanly creature could have picked the knowledge up.

When he had made a kind of dirt-pie under the direction

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 553

of the mason, they brought a little vase contain uig coins,
the which the member of the Gentlemanly Interest jingled, as
if he were going to conjure. Whereat they said how droll,
how cheerful, what a flow of spirits ! This put into its place,
an ancient scholar read the inscription, which was in Latin :
not in English : that would never do. It gave great satisfac-
tion ; especially every time there was a good long substantive
in the third declension, ablative case, with an adjective to
match ; at which periods the assembly became very tender,
and were much affected.

And now the stone was lowered down into its place, amidst
the shouting of the concourse. When it was firmly fixed, the
member for the Gentlemanly Interest struck upon it thrice
with the handle of the trowel, as if inquiring, with a touch of
humor, whether anybody was at home. Mr. Pecksniff then
unrolled his Plans (prodigious plans they were), and people
gathered round to look at and admire them.

Martin, who had been fretting himself — quite unnecessarily,
as Mark thought — during the whole of these proceedings,
could no longer restrain his impatience ; but stepping for-
ward among several others, looked straight o\er the shoulder
of the unconscious Mr. Pecksniff, at the designs and plans he
had unrolled. He returned to Mark, boiling with rage.

"Why, what's the matter, sir.? " cried Mark.

" Matter ! This is wv building."

" Your building, sir ! " said Mark.

" My grammar-school. I invented it. I did it all. He
has only put four windows in, the villain, and spoilt it ! "

Mark could hardly believe it at first, but being assured that
it was really so, actually held him to prevent his interference
foolishly, until his temporary heat was past. In the meantime,
the member addressed the company on the gratifying deed
which he had just performed.

He said that since he had sat in Parliament to represent
the Gentlemanly Interest of that town, and he might add, the
Lady Interest he hoped, besides (pocket handkerchiefs), it
had been his pleasant duty to come among them, and to raise
his voice on their behalf in Another Place (pocket handker-
chiefs and laughter), often. But he had never come among
them, and had never raised his voice, with half such pure,
such deep, such unalloyed delight, as now. "The present oc-
casion," he said, "wille\erbe memorable to me; not only
for the reasons I have assigned, but because it has afforded

^54 ^^^ ^ ^^^ CHUZZL E WIT.

me an opportunity of becoming personally known to a gentle-
man— "

Here he pointed the trowel at Mr. Pecksniff, who was
greeted with vociferous cheering, and laid his hand upon his
heart.

" To a gentleman who, I am happy to believe, will reap
both distinction and profit from this field : whose fame had
previously penetratecl to me — as to whose ears has it not ! —
but whose intellectual countenance I never had the distin-
guished honor to behold until this day, and whose intellectual
conversation I had never before the improving pleasure to
enjoy."

Everybody seemed very glad of this, and applauded more
than ever.

" But I hope my Honorable Friend," said the Gentlemanly
member — of course he added " if he will allow me to call him
so," and of course Mr. Pecksniff bowed — " will give me many
opportunities of cultivating the knowledge of him ; and that
I may have the extraordinary gratification of retiecting in after
time that I laid on this day two first stones, both belonging to
structures which shall last my life ! "

Great cheering again. AH this time, Martin was cursing
Mr. Pecksniff up hill and down dale.

" My friends ! " said Mr. Pecksniff", in reply. " My duty
is to build, not speak ; to act, not talk ; to deal with marble,
stone, and brick : not language. I am veiy much affected.
God bless you ! "

This address, pumped out apparently from Mr. Peck-
sniff's very heart, brought the enthusiasm to its highest pitch.
The pocket handkerchiefs were waved again ; the charity chil-
dren were admonished to grow up Pecksniffs, every boy among
them ; the Corporation, gentlemen with wands, member for
the Gentlemanly Interest, all cheered for Mr. Pecksniff. Three
cheers for Mr. Pecksniff ! Three more for Mr. Pecksniff !
Three more for Mr. Pecksniff, gentlemen, if you please ! One
more, gentlemen, for Mr. Pecksniff, and let it be a good one
to finish with !

In short, Mr. Pecksniff was supposed to have done a great
work, and was very kindly, courteously, and generously re-
warded. When the procession mo\^ed away, and Martin and
Mark were left almost alone upon the ground, his merits, and
a desire to acknowledge them, formed the common topic. He
was only second to the Gentlemanly member.

MARTLV CHUZZLEWIT.

555

•* Compare that fellow's situation to-day with ours ! " said
Martin, bitterly.

" Lord bless you, sir ! " cried Mark, " what's the use ?
Some architects are clever at making foundations, and some
architects are clever at building on 'em when they're made.
But it'll all come right in the end, sir ; it'll all come right ! "

" And in the meantime — " began Martin.

" In the meantime, as you say, sir, we have a deal to do,
and far to go. So sharp's the word, and Jolly ! "

" You are the best master in the world, Mark," said Martin,
" and I will not be a bad scholar if I can help it, 1 am resolved !
So come ! Best foot foremost, old fellow ! "

CHAPTER XXXVL

TOM PINCH DEPARTS TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE. WHAT HE FINDS

AT STARTING.

Oh ! what a different town Salisbury was in Tom Pinch's
eyes to be sure, when the substantial Pecksniff of his heart
melted away into an idle dream ! He possessed the same
faith in the wonderful shops, the same intensified appreciation
of the mystery and wickedness of the place ; made the same
exalted estimate of its wealth, population, and resources ; and
yet it was not the old city nor anything like it. He walked
into the market while they were getting breakfast ready for
him at the Inn ; and though it was the same market as of
old, crowded by the same buyers and sellers ; brisk with the
same business ; noisy with the same confusion of tongues and
cluttering of fowls in coops ; fair with the same display of
rolls of butter, newly made, set forth in linen cloths of dazzling
whiteness ; green with the same fresh show of dewy vegetables ;
dainty with the same array in higglers' baskets of small shaving-
glasses, laces, braces, trouser-straps, and hardware ; savory
with the same unstinted show of delicate pigs' feet, and pies
made precious by the pork that once had walked upon them :
still it was strangely changed to Tom. For, in the centre of
the market-place, he missed a statue lie had set up there, as in
all other places of his personal resort : and it looked cold and
bare without that ornament.

556 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

The change lay no deeper than this, for Tom was far from
being sage enough to know, that, having been disappointed in
one man, it would have been a strictly rational and eminently
wise proceeding to have revenged himself upon mankind in
general, by mistrusting them one and all. Indeed this piece
of justice, though it is upheld by the authority of divers profound
poets and honorable men, bears a nearer resemblance to the
justice of that good Vizier in the Thousand-and-one Nights, who
issues orders for the destruction of all the Porters in Bag;dad
because one of that unfortunate fraternity is supposed to have
misconducte^l himself, than to any logical, not to say Christian
system of conduct, known to the world in later times.

Tom had so long been used to steep the Pecksniff of his
fancy in his tea, and spread him out upon his toast, and take
him as a relish with his beer, that he made but a poor break-
fast on the first morning after his expulsion. Nor did he much
improve his appetite for dinner by seriously considering his
own affairs, and taking counsel thereon with his friend the
organist's assistant.

The organist's assistant gave it as his decided opinion that
whatever Tom did, he must go to London ; for there was no
place like it. Which may be true in the main, though hardly,
perhaps, in itself, a sufficient reason for Tom's going there.

But Tom had thought of London before, and had coupled
with it thoughts of his sister, and of his old friend John West-
lock, whose advice he naturally felt disposed to seek in this
important crisis of his fortunes. To London, therefore, he
resolved to go ; and he went away to the coach-office at once,
to secure his place. The coach being already full, he was
obliged to postpone his departure until the next night ; but
even this circumstance had its bright side as well as its dark
one, for though it threatened to reduce his poor purse with
unexpected countiy-charges, it afforded him an opportunity of
writing to Mrs. Lupin and appointing his box to be brought
to the old finger-post at the old time ; which would enable
him to take that treasure with him to the metropolis, and save
the expense of its carriage. " So," said Tom, comforting him-
self, "it's very nearly as broad as it's long."

And it cannot be denied that, when he had made up his
mind to even this extent, he felt an unaccustomed sense of
freedom — a vague and indistinct impression of hoHday-making
— which was very luxurious. He had his moments of depres-
sion and anxiety, and they were, with good reason, pretty nu-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

557

merous ; but still, it was wonderfully pleasant to reflect that
he was his own master, and could plan and scheme for him-
self. It was startling, thrilling, vast, difticult to understand ;
it was a stupendous truth, teeming with responsibility and self-
distrust ; but, in spite of all his cares, it gave a curious relish
to the viands at the Inn, and interposed a dreamy haze be-
tween him and his prospects, in which they sometimes showed
to magical advantage.

In this unsettled state of mind, Tom went once more to
bed in the low four-poster, to the same immovable surprise of
the efifigies of the former landlord and the fat ox ; and in this
condition, passed the whole of the succeeding day. When
the coach came round at last, with " London " blazoned in
letters of gold upon the boot, it gave Tom such a turn, that
he was half disposed to run away. But he didn't do it ; for
he took his seat upon the box instead, and looking down upon
the four grays, felt as if he was another gray himself, or, at all
events, a part of the turn-out ; and was quite confused by the
novelty and splendor of his situation.

And really it might have confused a less modest man than
Tom to find himself sitting next that coachman ; for of all the
swells that ever flourished a whip, professionally, he might
have been elected emperor. He didn't handle his gloves like
another man, but put them on — even when he was standing
on the pavement, quite detached from the coach — as if the
four grays were, somehow or other, at the ends of the fingers.
It was the same with his hat. He did things with his hat,
which nothing but an unlimited knowledge of horses and the
wildest freedom of the road, could ever have made him per-
fect in. Valuable little parcels were brought to him with par-
ticular instructions, and he pitched them into this hat, and
stuck it on again ; as if the laws of gravity did not admit of
such an event as its being knocked off or blown ofT, and noth-
ing like an accident could befall it. The guard, too ! Seventy
breezy miles a-day were written in his very whiskers. His
manners were a canter ; his conversation a round trot. He
was a fast coach upon a down-hill turnpike road ; he was all
pace. A wagon couldn't have moved slowly, with that guard
and his key-bugle on the top of it.

These were all foreshadowings of London, Tom thought,
as he sat upon the box, and looked about him. Such a coach-
man, and such a guard, never could have existed between
Salisbury and any other place. The coach was none of your

5SS

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

steady-going, yokel coaches, but a swaggering, rakish, dissi-
pated London coach ; up all night, and lying by all day, and
leading a devil of a life. It cared no more for Salisbury
than if it had been a hamlet. It rattled noisily through the
best streets, defied the Cathedral, took the worst corners
sharpest, went cutting in everywhere, making ever^'thing get
out of its way ; and spun along the open countr)'-road,
blowing a lively defiance out of its key-bugle, as its last glad
parting legacy.

It was a charming evening. Mild and bright. And even
with the weight upon his mind which arose out of the immen-
sity and uncertainty of London, Tom could not resist the cap-
tivating sense of rapid motion through the pleasant air. The
four grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well as
Tom did ; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays ; the
coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice ; the wheels
hummed cheerfullv in unison ; the brass work on the harness
was an orchestra of little bells ; and thus, as they went clink-
ing, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole concern, from
the buckles of the leaders' coupling-reins, to the handle of the
hind boot, was one great instrument of music.

Yoho, past hedges, gates, and trees ; past cottages and
Darns, and people going home from work. Yoho, past donkey-
chaises, drawn aside into the ditch, and empty carts with ram-
pant horses, whipped up at a bound upon the little water-
course, and held by struggling carters close to the li\'e-barred
gate, until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the
road. Yoho, by churches dropped down by themselves in
quiet nooks, with rustic burial-grounds about them, where the
graves are green, and daisies sleejD — for it is evening — on the
bosoms of the dead. Yoho, past streams, in which the cattle
cool their feet, and where the rushes grow ; past paddock-
fences, farms and rick -yards ; past last year's stacks, cut,
slice by slice, away, and showing, in the waning light, like
ruined gables, old and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip,
and through the merry water-splash, and up at a canter to the
level road again. Yoho ! Yoho !

Was the box there, when they came up to the old finger-
post ? The box ! Was Mrs. Lupin herself.? Had she turned
out magnificently as a hostess should, in her own chaise-cart,
and was she sitting in a mahogany chair, driving her own
horse Dragon (who ought to have been called Dumpling), and
looking lovely .? Did the stage-coach pull up beside her.

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

559

shaving her very wheel, and even while the guard helped her
man up with the trunk, did he send the glad echoes of his bugle
careering down the chimneys of the distant Pecksniff, as if
the coach expressed its exultation in the rescue of Tom
Pinch ?

" This is kind indeed ! " said Tom, bending down to shake
hands with her. " I didn't mean to give you this trouble."

" Trouble, Mr. Pinch I " cried the hostess of the Dragon.

" Well ! It's a pleasure to you, I know," said Tom, squeez-
ing her hand heartily. " Is there any news ? "

The hostess shook her head.

" Say you saw me," said Tom, " and that I was very bold
and cheerful, and not a bit down-hearted ; and that I entreated
her to be the same, for all is certain to come right at last.
Good-by ! "

" You'll write when you get settled, Mr. Pinch 1 " said
Mrs. Lupin.

" When I get settled ! " cried Tom, with an involuntary
opening of his eyes. "Oh, yes, I'll write when I get settled.
Perhaps 1 had better write before, because I may find that it
takes a little time to settle myself, not having too much money,
and having only one friend. I shall give your love to the
friend, by the way. You were always great with Mr. West-
lock, you know. Good-by ! "

" Good-by ! " said Mrs. Lupin, hastily producing a basket
with a long bottle sticking out of it. " Take this. Good-
by ! "

" Do you want me to carry it to London for you ? " cried
Tom. She was already turning the chaise-cart round.

" No, no," said Mrs. Lupin. " It's only a little some-
thing for refreshment on the road. Sit fast. Jack. Drive on,
sir. All right ! Good-by ! "

She was a quarter of a mile off, before Tom collected
himself ; and then he was waving his hand lustily ; and so
was she.

" And that's the last of the old finger-post," thought Tom,
straining his eyes, " where I have so often stood, to see this
very coach go by, and where I have parted with so many
companions ! I used to conijjare this coach to some great
monster that appeared at certain times to bear my friends
away into the world. And now it's bearing me away, to seek
my fortune. Heaven knows where and how ! "

It made Tom melancholy to picture himself walking up

56o

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

the lane and back to Pecksniff's as of old ; and, being melan-
choly, he looked downwards at the basket on his knee, which
he had for the moment forgotten.

" She .8 the kindest and most considerate creature in the
world," thought Tom. " Now I know that she particularly
told that man of hers not to look at me, on purpose to prevent
my throwing him a shilling ! I had it ready for him all the
time, and he never once looked towards me ; whereas that
man naturally (for I know him very well), would have done
nothing but grin and stare. Upon my word, the kindness of
people perfectly melts me."

Here he caught the coachman's eye. The coachman
winked. " Remarkable fine woman for her time of life," said
the coachman.

" I quite agree with you," returned Tom. " So she is."

" Finer than many a young 'un, I mean to say," observed
the coachman. " Eh ? "

"Than many a young one," Tom assented.

" I don't care for 'em myself when they're too young," re-
marked the coachman.

This was a matter of taste, which Tom did not feel himself
called upon to discuss.

" You'll seldom find 'em possessing correct opinions about
refreshment, for instance, when they're too young, you know,"
said the coachman : " a woman must have arrived at maturity,
before her mind's equal to coming provided with a basket like
that."

" Perhaps you would like to know what it contains ? " said
Tom, smiling.

As the coachman only laughed, and as Tom was curious
himself, he unpacked it, and put the articles, one by one,
upon the footboard. A cold roast fowl, a packet of ham in
slices, a crusty loaf, a piece of cheese, a paper of biscuits, half
a dozen apples, a knife, some butter, a screw of salt, and a
bottle of old sherry. There was a letter besides, which Tom
put in his pocket.

The coachman was so earnest in his approval of Mrs.
Tupin's provident habits, and congratulated Tom so warmly
on his good fortune, that Tom felt it necessary, for the lady's
sake, "to explain that the basket was a strictly Platonic basket,
and had merely been presented to him in the way of friend
ship. When he had made the statement with perfect gravity ;
for he felt it incumbent on him to disabuse the mind of this

MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVTT. 5 6 1

lax rover of any incorrect impressions on the subject ; he
signified that he would be happy to share the gifts with him,
and proposed that they should attack the basket in a spirit of
good fellowship at any time in the course of the night which
the coachman's experience and knowledge of the road might
suggest, as being best adapted to the purpose. From this
time they chatted so pleasantly together, that although Tom
knew infinitely more of unicorns than horses, the coachman
informed his friend the guard, at the end of the next stage,
" that rum as the box-seat looked, he was as good a one to
go, in pint of conversation, as ever he'd wish to sit by."

Yoho, among the gathering shades ; making of no account
the deep reflections of the trees, but scampering on through
light and darkness, all the same, as if the light of London
fifty miles away, were quite enough to travel by, and some to
spare. Yoho, beside the village-green, where cricket-players
linger yet, and every little indentation made in the fresh grass
by bat or wicket, ball or player's foot, sheds out its perfume
on the night. Away with four fresh horses from the Bald-
faced Stag, where topers congregate about the door admiring ;
and the last team with traces hanging loose, go roaming off
towards the pond, until observed and shouted after by a
dozen throats, while volunteering boys pursue them. Now,
with a clattering of hoofs and striking out of fier)' sparks,
across the old stone Inidge, and down again into the shadowy
road, and through the open, gate, and far away, away, into
the wold. Yoho !

Yoho, behind there, stop that bugle for a moment ! Come
creeping over to the front, along the coach-roof, guard, and
make one at this basket ! Not that we slacken in our pace
the while, not we : we rather put the bits of blood upon their
metal, for the greater glory of the snack. Ah ! It is long
since this bottle of old wine was brought into contact with
the mellow breath of night, you may depend, and rare good
stuff it is to wet a bugler's whistle with. Only try it. Don't
be afraid of turning up your finger. Bill, another pull ! Now,
take your breath, and try the bugle. Bill. There's music !
There's a cone! "Over the hills and far away," indeed.
Yoho ! The skittish mare is all alive to-night. Yoho !
Yoho !

See the bright moon ! High up before we know it : mak-
ing the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water.
Hedges, trees, low cottages, church steeples, blighted stumps

36

562

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

and flourishing young slips, have all grown vain upon the
sudden, and mean to contemplate their own fair images till
morning. The poplars yonder rustle, that their quivering
leaves may see themselves upon the ground. Not so the oak ;
trembling does not become hitn ; and he watches himself in
his stout old burly steadfastness, without the motion of a twig.
The moss-grown gate, ill-poised upon its creaking hinges,
crippled and decayed, swings to and fro before its glass, like
some fantastic dowager ; while our own ghostly likeness travels
on, Yoho ! Yoho ! through ditch and brake, upon the ploughed
land and the smooth, along the steep hill-side and steeper
wall, as if it were a phantom-Hunter.

Clouds too ! And a mist upon the Hollow ! Not a dull
fog that hides it, but a light airy gauze-like mist, which in our
eves of modest admiration gives a new charm to the beauties
it is spread before : as real gauze has done ere now, and would
again, so please you, though we were the Pope. Yoho ! \^^hy
now we travel like the Moon herself. Hiding this minute in
a grove of trees ; next minute in a patch of vapor ; emerging
now upon our broad clear course ; withdrawing now, but
always dashing on, our journey is a counterpart of hers. Yoho !
A match against the Moon !

The beauty of the night is hardly felt, when Day comes
leaping up. Yoho ! Two stages, and the country roads are
almost changed to a continuous street. Yoho, past market-
gardens, rows of houses, villas, crescents, terraces, and
squares ; past wagons, coaches, carts ; past early workmen,
late stragglers, drunken men, and sober carriers of loads ;
past brick and mortar in its every shape ; and in among the
rattling pavements, where a jaunty-seat upon a coach is not
so easy to preserve ! Yoho, down countless turnings, and
through countless mazy ways, until an old Inn-yard is gained,
and Tom Pinch, getting down, quite stunned and giddy, is in
London !

" Five minutes before the time, too ! " said the driver, as
he received his fee of Tom.

" Upon my word," said Tom, " I should not have minded
very much, if we had been five hours after it ; for at this
early hour I don't know where to go, or what to do with my-
self."

" Don't they expect you then ? " inquired the driver

" Who ? " said Tom.

"Why, them," returned the driver

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 563

His mind was so clearly running on the assumption of
Tom's bavins: come to town to see an extensive circle of
anxious relations and friends, that it would have been pretty
hard work to undecei\'e him. Tom did not try. He cheer-
fully evaded the subject, and going into the Inn, fell fast
asleep before a fire in one of the public rooms opening from
the yard. When he awoke, the people in the house were all
astir, so he washed and dressed himself ; to his great refresh-
ment after the journey ; and, it being by that time eight o'clock,
went forth at once to see his old friend John.

John Westlock lived in Furnival's Inn, High Holborn,
which was within a quarter of an hour's Avalk of Tom's start-
ing-point, but seemed a long way off, by reason of his going
two or three miles out of the straight road to make a short
cut. When at last he arrived outside John's door, two stories
up, he stood faltering with his hand upon the knocker, and
trembled from head to foot. For he was rendered very nervous
by the thought of having to relate what had fallen out between
himself and Pecksniff ; and he had a misgiving that John
would exult fearfully in the disclosure.

"But it must be made," thought Tom, "sooner or later;
and I had better get it over."

Rat tat.

" I am afraid that's not a London knock," thought Tom.
" It didn't sound bold. Perhaps that's the reason why nobody
answers the door."

It is quite certain that nobody came, and that Tom stood
looking at the knocker, wondering whereabouts in the neigh-
borhood a certain gentleman resided, who was roaring out to
somebody " Come in ! " with all his might.

" Bless my soul ! " thought Tom at last. " Perhaps he
lives here, and is calling to me. I never thought of that.
Can I open the door from the outside, 1 wonder. Yes, to be
sure I can."

To be sure he could, by turning the handle : and to be
sure when he did turn it the same voice came rushing out,
cr}dng " Why don't you come in .'' Come in, do you hear .''
What are you standing there for .'' " — quite violently.

Tom stepped from the little passage into the room from
which these sounds proceeded, and had barely caught a glimpse
of a gentleman in a dressing-gown and slippers (with his
boots beside him ready to jxit on), sitting at his breakfast
with a newspaper in his hand, when the said gentleman, at

564 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

the imminent hazard of oversetting his tea-table, made a
plunge at Tom, and hugged him.

" Why, Tom, my boy ! ' cried the gentleman. " Tom ! "

*' How glad I am to see you, Mr. Westlock ! " said Tom
Pinch, shaking both his hands, and trembling more than ever.
" How kind 3'ou are ! "

" Mr. Westlock ! " repeated John, " what do you mean by
that Pinch t You have not forgotten my Christian name, I
suppose? "

" No, John, no. I have not forgotten it," said Thomas
Pinch. " Good gracious me, how kind you are ! "

" I never saw such a fellow in all my life ! " cried John.
" What do you mean by saying that o\er and over again 1
What did you expect me to be, I wonder ! Here, sit down
Tom, and be a reasonable creature. How are you, my boy.
I am delighted to see you ! "

" And I am delighted to see I'l?//," said Tom.

" It's mutual, of course," returned John. " It always was,
I hope. If I had known you had been coming, Tom, I would
have had something for breakfast. I would rather have such
a surprise than the best breaMast in the world, myself, but
yours is another case, and I have no doubt you are as hungry
as a hunter. You must make out as well as you can, Tom,
and "we'll recompense ourselves at dinner time. You take
sugar I know : I recollect the sugar at Pecksniff's. Ha, ha,
ha ! How is Pecksniff ? When did you come to town .'' Do
begin at something or other, Tom. There are only scraps
here, but they are not at all bad. Boar's Head potted. Try
it, Tom. Make a beginning whatever you do. What an old
Blade you are ! I am delighted to see you."

While he delivered himself of these words in a state of
great commotion, John was constantly running backwards and
forwards to and from the closet, bringing out all sorts of things
in pots, scooping extraordinary quantities of tea out of the
caddy, dropping French rolls into his boots, pouring hot
water over the butter, and making a variety of similar mistakes
without disconcerting himself in the least.

" There ! " said John, sitting down for the fiftieth time,
and instantly starting up again to make some other addition
to the breakfast. " Now we are as well off as we are likely to
be till dinner. And now let us have the news, Tom. Im-
primis, how's Pecksniff ? "

"I don't know how he is," was Tom's grave answer.

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 565

John Westlock put the teapot 'down, and looked at him
in astonishment.

" I don't know how he is," said Thomas Pinch ; " and saving
that I wish him no ill, I don't care. 1 have left him, John.
I have left him for ever."

" Voluntarily ? "

" Why no, for he dismissed me. But I had first found out
that I was mistaken in him ; and I could not have remained
with him under any circumstances. I grieve to say that you
were right in your estimate of his character. It may be a
ridiculous weakness, John, but it has been ver}- painful and
bitter to me to find this out, I do assure you."

Tom had no need to direct that appealing look towards
his friend, in mild and gentle deprecation of his answering
with a laugh. John Westlock would as soon have thought of
striking him down upon the floor.

" It was all a dream of mine," said Tom, " and it is over.
I'll tell you how it happened, at some other time. Bear with
my folly, John. I do not, just now, like to think or speak
about it."

" I swear to you, Tom," returned his friend, with great
earnestness of manner, after remaining silent for a few
moments, " that when I see, as I do now, how deeply you feel
this, I don't know whether to be glad or sorry, that you have
made the discovery at last. I reproach myself with the
thought that I ever jested on the subject ; I ought to have
known better."

" My dear friend," said Tom, extending his hand, " it is
very generous and gallant in you to receive me and my dis-
closure in this spirit ; it makes me blush to think that I should
have felt a moment's uneasiness as I came along. You can't
think what a weight is lifted off my mind," said Tom, taking
up his knife and fork again, and looking very cheerful. " I
shall punish the Boar's Head dreadfully."

The host, thus reminded of his duties, instantly betook
himself to piling up all kinds of irreconcilable and contradic-
tory viands in Tom's plate, and a ver}^ capital breakfast Tom
made, and very much the better for it, Tom felt.

"That's all right," said John, after contemplating his visi-
tor's proceedings, with infinite satisfaction. " Now, about
our plans. You are going to stay with me, of course.
Where's your box ? "

" It's at the Inn," said Tom. " I didn't intend '

566

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Never mind what you didn't intend," John Westlock
interposed. " What you did intend is more to the purpose.
You intended, in coming here, to ask my advice, did you not,
Tom t "

" Certainly."

" And to take it when I gave it to you ? "

"Yes," rejoined Tom, smiUng, "if it were good advice,
which, being yours, I have no doubt it will be,"

" Very well. Then don't be an obstinate old humbug in
the outset, Tom, or I shall shut up shop and dispense none
of that invaluable commodity. You are on a visit to me, I
wish I had an organ for you, Tom ! "

" So do the gentlemen down stairs, and the gentlemen
overhead, I have no doubt," was Tom's reply.

" Let me see. In the first place, you will wish to see your
sister this morning," pursued his friend, " and of course you
will like to go there alone. I'll walk part of the way with
you, and see about a little business of my own, and meet you
here again in the afternoon. Put that in your pocket, Tom.
It's only the key of the door. If you come home first, you'll

want it."

" Really," said Tom, ." quartering one's self upon a friend
in this way — "

" Why, there are two kevs," interposed John Westlock.
" I can't open the door with them both at once, can I } What
a ridiculous fellow you are, Tom ! Nothing particular you'd
like for dinner, is there?"

" Oh dear no," said Tom,

" Veiy well, then you may as well leave it to me. Have
a glass of cherry brandy, Tom "i "

" Not a drop ! What remarkable chambers these are ! "
said Pinch, " there's everything in 'em ! "

" Bless your soul, Tom, nothing but a few little bachelor
contrivances ! the sort of impromptu arrangements that might
have suggested themselves to Philip Quarll or Robinson Cru-
soe : that's all. What do you say ? Shall we walk 'i "

" By all means," cried Tom. " As soon as you like."

Accordingly, John Westlock took the French rolls out of
his boots, and put his boots on, and dressed himself, giving
Tom the paper to read in the meanwhile. When he returned,
equipped for walking, he found Tom in a brown study, with
the paper in his hand.

" Dreaming, Tom } "

Jl/A R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

5^7

" No," said Mr. Pinch, " No. I have been looking over
the advertising sheet, thinking there might be something in it
which would be likely to suit me. But, as I often think, the
strange thing seems to be that nobody is suited. Here are
all kinds of employers wanting all sorts of servants, and all
sorts of servants wanting all kinds of employers, and they
never seem to come together. Here is a gentleman in a joub-
lic office in a position of temporary difficulty, who wants to
borrow five hundred pounds ; and in the very next advertise-
ment here is another gentleman who has got exactly that sum
to lend. But he'll never lend it to him, John, you'll find !
Here is a lady possessing a moderate independence, who
wants to board and lodge with a quiet, cheerful family ; and
here is a family describing themselves in those very words, ' a
quiet, cheerful family,' who want exactly such a lady to come
and live witb them. But she'll never go, John ! Neither do
any of these single gentlemen who want an airy bed-room,
with the occasional use of a parlor, ever appear to come to
terms with these other people who live in a rural situation,
remarkable for its bracing atmosphere, within five minutes'
walk of the Royal Exchange. Even those letters of the alpha-
bet, who are always running away from their friends and being
entreated at the tops of columns to come back, never do come
back, if we may judge from the number of times they are
asked to do it, and don't. It really seems," said Tom relin-
quishing the paper, with a thoughtful sigh, " as if people had
the same gratification in printing their complaints as in mak-
ing them known by word of mouth ; as if they found it a
comfort and consolation to proclaim ' I want such and such a
thing, and I can't get it, and I don't expect I ever shall ! '"

John Westlock laughed at the idea, and they went out to-
gether. So many years had passed since Tom was last in
London, and he had known so little of it then, that his inter-
est in all he saw was very great. He was particularly anxious,
among other notorious localities, to have those streets pointed
out to him which were appropriated to the slaughter of country-
men ; and was quite disappointed to find, after a half-an-hour's
walking, that he hadn't had his pocket picked. But on John
Westlock's inventing a pickpocket for liis gratification, and
pointing out a highly respectable stranger as one of that
fraternity, he was much delighted.

His friend accompanied him to within a short distance of
Camberwell, and having put him beyond the possibility of

568

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

mistaking the wealthy brass-and-copper founder's, left him to
make his visit. Arriving before the great bell-handle, Tom
gave it a gentle pull. The porter appeared.

" Pray does Miss Pinch live here ? " said Tom.

" Miss Pinch is Governess here," replied the porter.

At the same time he looked at Tom from head to foot, as
if he would have said, " You are a nice man, you are ; where
did you come from ? "

" It's the same young lady," said Tom. " It's quite right.
Is she at home ? "

" I don't know, I'm sure," rejoined the porter.

" Do you think you could have the goodness to ascertain ? "
said Tom. He had quite a delicacy in offering the suggestion,
for the possibility of such a step did not appear to present
itself to the porter's mind at all.

The fact was that the porter in answering the gate-bell,
had, according to usage, rung the house-bell (for it is as well
to do these things in the Baronial style while you are about
it), and that there the functions of his office had ceased. Be-
ing hired to open and shut the gate, and not to explain him-
self to strangers, he left this little incident to be developed by
the footman with the tags, who, at this juncture, called out,
from the door steps :

" Hollo, there ! wot are you up to ? This way young man ! "

" Oh ! " said Tom, hurrying towards him. " I didn't ob-
serve that there was anybody else. Pray is Miss Pinch at
home ? "

" She's /;/," replied the footman. As much as to say to
Tom : " But if you think she has anything to do with the
proprietorship of this place, you had better abandon that
idea."

" I wish to see her if you please," said Tom.

The footman, being a lively young man, happened to have
his attention caught at that moment by the flight of a pigeon,
in which he took so Avarm an interest, that his gaze was rivet-
ed on the bird until it was quite out of sight. He then in-
vited Tom to come in, and showed him into a parlor.

" Hany neem ? " said the young man, pausing languidly at
the door.

It was a good thought : because without providing the
stranger, in case he should happen to be of a warm temper,
with a sufficient excuse for knocking him down, it implied
this young man's estimate of his quality, and relieved his

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

5^9

breast of the oppressive burden of rating him in secret as a
nameless and obscure individual.

" Say her brother, if you please," said Tom.

" Mother.? " drawled the footman.

" Brother," repeated Tom, slightly raising his voice.
" And if you will say, in the first instance, a gentleman, and
then say her brother, I shall be obliged to you, as she does
not expect me, or know I am in London, and I do not wish to
starde her."

The young man's interest in Tom's observations had
ceased long before this time, but he kindly waited until now ;
when, shutting the door, he withdrew.

" Dear me ! " said Tom. " This is very disrespectful
and uncivil behavior. I hope these are new servants here,
and that Ruth is very differently treated."

His cogitations were interrupted by the sound of voices
in the adjoining room. They seemed to be engaged in high
dispute, or in indignant reprimand of some offender ; and
gathering strength occasionally, broke out into a perfect whirl-
wind. It was in one of these gusts, as it appeared to Tom,
that the footman announced him ; for an abrupt and unnatural
calm took place, and then a dead silence. He was standing
befcre the window wondering what domestic quarrel might
have caused these sounds, and hoping Ruth had nothing to
do with it, when the door opened, and his sister ran into his
arms.

" Why, bless my soul ! " said Tom, looking at her with
great pride, when they had tenderly embraced each other,
"how altered you are, Ruth ! I should scarcely have known
you, my love, if I had seen you anywhere else, I declare !
You are so improved," said Tom, with inexpressible delight :
" you are so womanly ; you are so — positively, you know, you
are so handsome ! "

" \i you think so, Tom — "

" Oh, but ever}-body must think so, you know," said Tom,
gently smoothing down her hair. It's matter of fact; not
opinion. But what's the matter ? " said Tom, looking at her
more intently, " how flushed you are ! and you ha\e been cry-

ing."

"No, I have not, Tom."

" Nonsense," said her brother stoutly. "That's a story.
Don't tell me ! I know better. What is it, dear? I'm not
with Mr. Pecksniff now ; I am going to Xxy and settle myself

570

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

in London ; and if you are not happy here (as I very much
fear you are not, for I begin to think you have been deceiving
me with the kindest and most affectionate intention) you shall
not remain here."

Oh ! Tom's blood was rising ; mind that ! Perhaps the
Boar's Head had something to do with it, but certainly the
footman had. So had the sight of his pretty sister — a great
deal to do with it. Tom could bear a good deal himself, but
he was proud of her, and pride is a sensitive thing. He be-
gan to think, " there are more Pecksniffs than one, perhaps,"
and by all the pins and needles that run up and down in an-
gry veins, Tom was in a most unusual tingle all at once !

" We will talk about it, Tom," said Ruth, giving him an-
other kiss to pacify him. " I am afraid I cannot stay here."

" Cannot ! " replied Tom. " Why then, you shall not, my
love ! Heyday ! You are not an object of charity ! Upon
my word ! "

Tom was stopped in these exclamations by the footman,
who brought a message from his master, importing that he
wished to speak with him before he went, and with Miss
Pinch also.

"Show the way," said Tom. "I'll wait upon him at

once."

Accordingly they entered the adjoining room from which
the noise of altercation had proceeded ; and there they found
a middle-aged gentleman, with a pompous voice and manner,
and a middle-aged lady, with what may be termed an excise-
able face, or one in which starch and vinegar were decidedly
employed. There was likewise present that eldest pupil of
Miss Pinch, whom Mrs. Todgers, on a previous occasion, had
called a syrup, and who was now weeping and sobbing spite-
fully.

"My brother, sir," said Ruth Pinch, timidly presenting
Tom.

" Oh ! " cried the gentleman, surveying Tom attentively.
" You really are INIiss Pinch's brother, 1 presume ? You will
excuse my asking. I don't observe any resemblance."

" Miss Pinch has a brother, I know," observed the lady.

" Miss Pinch is always talking about her brother, when
she ought to be engaged upon my education," sobbed the
pupil.

" Sophia ! Hold your tongue ! " observed the gentleman.
" Sit down, if you please," addressing Tom.

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 7 1

Tom sat down, looking from one face to another, in mute
surprise.

" Remain here, if you please, Miss Pinch," pursued the
gentleman, looking slightly over his shoulder.

Tom interrupted him here, by rising to place a chair for
his sister. Having done which he sat down again.

" I am glad you chance to have called to see your sister
to-day, sir," resumed the brass-and-copper founder. " For
although 1 do not approve, as a principle, of any young per-
son engaged in my family, in the capacity of a go\erness, re-
ceiving visitors, it happens in this case to be well-timed. I
am sorry to inform you that we are not at all satisfied with
your sister."

" We are very much rf/Vsatisfied with her," ol^served the
lady.

" I'd never say another lesson to Miss Pinch if I was to
be beat to death for it ! " sobbed the pupil.

" Sophia ! " cried her father. " Hold your tongue ! "

" Will you allow me to inquire what your ground of dis-
satisfaction is.-" " asked Tom.

" Yes," said the gentleman, " I will. I don't recognize it
as a right ; but I will. Your sister has not the slightest in-
nate power of commanding respect. It has been a constant
source of difference between us. Although she has been in
this family for some time, and although the young lady who
is now present, has almost, as it were, grown up under her
tuition, that young lady has no respect for her. Miss Pinch
has been perfectly unable to command my daughter's respect,
or to win my daughter's confidence. Now," said the gentle-
man, allowing the palm of his hand to fall gravely down upon
the table : " I maintain that there is something radically
wrong in that ! You, as her brother, may be disposed to
deny it — "

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Tom. " I am not at all
disposed to deny it. I am sure that there is something radi-
cally wrong — radically monstrous — in that."

"■Good Heavens!" cried the gentleman, looking round
the room with dignitv, what do 1 find to be the case ! what
results obtrude themselves upon me as flowing from this weak-
ness of character on the part of Miss Pinch ! What are my
feelings as a father, when, after my desire (repeatedly ex-
pressed to Miss Pinch, as I think she will not venture to
deny) that my daughter should be choice in her expressions,

572

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

genteel in her deportment, as becomes her station in life, and
politely distant to her inferiors in society, I find her, only this
very morning, addressing Miss Pinch herself as a beggar ! "

" A beggarly thing," observed the lady, in correction.

" Which is worse," said the gentleman, triumphantly ;
"which is worse. A beggarly thing. A low, coarse despica-
ble expression ! "

" Most despicable," cried Tom. "I am glad to find that
there is a just appreciation of it here."

" So just, sir," said the gentleman, lowering his voice to
be the more impressive. " So just, that, but for my knowing
Miss Pinch to be an unprotected young person, an orphan,
and without friends, I would, as I assured Miss Pinch, upon
my veracity and personal character, a few minutes ago, I
would have severed the connection between us at that mo-
ment and from that time."

" Bless my soul, sir ! " cried Tom, rising from his seat, for
he was now unable to contain himself any longer ! " don't allow
such considerations as those to influence you, pray. They
don't exist, sir. She is not unprotected. She is ready to de-
part this instant. Ruth, my dear, get your bonnet on ! "

" Oh, a pretty family ! " cried the lady. " Oh, he's her
brother ! There's no doubt about that ! "

"As little doubt, madam," said Tom, " as that the young
lady yonder is the child of your teaching, and not my sister's.
Ruth, my dear, get your bonnet on ! "

"When you say, young man," interposed the brass-and-
copper founder, haughtily, " with that impertinence which is
natural to you, and which I therefore do not condescend to
notice further, that the young lady, my eldest daughter, has
been educated by any one but Miss Pinch, you — I needn't
proceed. You comprehend me fully. I have no doubt you
are used to it."

" Sir ! " cried Tom, after regarding him in silence for some
little time. " If you do not understand what I mean, I will
tell you. If you do understand what I mean, I beg you not
to repeat that mode of expressing yourself in answer to it. My
meaning is, that no man can expect his children to respect
what he degrades."

" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the gentleman. " Cant ! cant !
The common cant ! "

" The common story, sir ! " said Tom ; " the story of a
common mind. Your governess cannot win the confidence

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

573

and respect of your children, forsooth ! Let her begin by win-
ning yours, and see what happens then."

"Miss Pinch is getting her bonnet on, I trust, my dear? "
said the gentleman.

"I trust she is," said Tom, forestalling the reply. "I
have no doubt she is. In the meantime I address myself to
you, sir. You made your statement to me, sir ; you required
to see me for that purpose ; and I have a right to answer it.
I am not loud or turbulent," said Tom, \Vhich was quite true,
" though I can scarcely say as much for you, in your manner
of addressing yourself to me. And I wish, on my sister's
behalf, to state the simple truth."

" You mav state anvthing vou like, young man," returned

V ^ cry J ^ J <~p ^

the gentleman, affecting to yawn. " My dear, Miss Pinch's
money."

" When yeu tell me," resumed Tom, who was not the less
indignant for keeping himself quiet, " that my sister has no
innate power of commanding the respect of your children,
I must tell you it is not so ; and that she has. She is as well
bred, as well taught, as well qualified by nature to command
respect, as any hirer of a governess you know. But when
you place her at a disadvantage in reference to every servant
in your house, how can you suppose, if you have the gift of
common sense, that she is not in a tenfold worse position in
reference to your daughters ? "

" Pretty well ! Upon my word," exclaimed the gentleman,
" this is pretty' well ! "

" It is very ill, sir," said Tom. " It is very bad and mean,
and wrong and cruel. Respect ! I believe young people are
quick enough to observe and imitate ; and why or how should
they respect whom no one else respects, and everybody
slights .'' And very partial they must grow — oh, very partial !
• — to their studies, when they see to what a pass proficiency in
those same tasks has brought their governess ! Respect !
Put anything the most deserving of respect before your daugh-
ters in the light in which you place her, and you will bring it
down as low, no matter what it is ! "

"You speak with extreme impertinence, young man," ob-
served the gentleman.

"I speak without passion, but with extreme indignation
and contempt for such a course of treatment, and for all who
practise it," said Tom. " why, how can you, as an honest
gentleman, profess displeasure or surprise at your daughter

574

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

telling my sister she is something beggarly and humble, wlien
you are for ever telling her the same thing yourself in fifty
plain, out-speaking ways, though not in words ; and when
your very porter and footman make the same delicate an-
nouncement to all comers ? As to your suspicion and distrust
of her, even of her word, if she is not above their reacn, you
have no right to employ her."

" No right ! " cried the brass-and-copper founder.

" Distinctly not,"" Tom answered. " If you imagine that
the payment of an annual sum of money gives it to you, you
immensely exaggerate its power and value. Your money is
the least part of your bargain in such a case. You may be
punctual in that to half a second on the clock, and yet be
Bankrupt. I have nothing more to say," said Tom, much
flushed and flustered, now that it was over, " except to crave
permission to stand in your garden until my sister is ready."

Not waiting to obtain it, Tom walked out.

Before he had well begun to cool, his sister joined him.
She was crying ; and Tom could not bear that any one about
the house would see her doing that.

"They will think you are sorry to go," said Tom. "You
are not sorry to go ? "

" No, Tom, no. I have been anxious to go for a very
long time."

" Very well, then ! Don't cry ! " said Tom.

" I am so sorry iox you, dear," sobbed Tom's sister.

" But you ought to be glad on my account," said Tom. " I
shall be twice as happy with you for a companion. Hold up
your head. There t Now we go out as we ought. Not blus-
tering, you know, but firm and confident in ourselves."

The idea of Tom and his sister blustering, under any cir-
cumstances, was a splendid absurdity. But Tom was \-ery far
from feeling it to be so, in his excitement ; and passed out at
the gate with such severe determination written in his face that
the porter hardly knew him again.

It was not until they had walked some short distance, and
Tom found himself getting cooler and more collected, that he
was quite restored to himself by an inquiry from his sister,
who said in her pleasant little voice :

"Where are we going, Tom.'' "

" Dear me ! " said Tom, stopping, " I don't know."

" Don't you — don't you live anywhere, dear ? " asked
Tom's sister, looking wistfully in his face.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT.

575

" No," said Tom. " Not at present. Not exactly. I only
arrived this morning. We must have some lodgings."

He didn't tell her that he had been going to stay with his
friend John, and could on no account think of billeting two
inmates upon him, of whom one was a young lady ; for he
knew that would make her uncomfortable, and would cause
her to regard herself as being an inconvenience to him. Nei-
ther did he like to leave her anywhere while he called on John,
and told him of this change in his arrangements ; for he Avas
delicate of seeming to encroach upon the generous and hospi-
table nature of his friend. Therefore he said again, " We
must have some lodgings, of course ; " and said it as stoutly
as if he had been a perfect Directory and Guide-Book to all
the lodgings in London.

" Where shall we go and look for 'em ? " said Tom. " What
do you think ? "

Tom's sister was not much wiser on such a topic than he
was. So she squeezed her little purse into his coat-pocket,
and folding the little hand with which she did so on the other
little hand with which she clasped his arm, said nothing.

" It ought to be a cheap neighborhood," said Tom, " and
not too far from London. Let me see. Should you think
Islington a good place ? "

"I should think it was an excellent place, Tom."

" It used to be called Merry Islington, once upon a time,"
said Tom. " Perhaps it's merry now ; if so, it's all the better.
Eh ? "

" If it's not too dear," said Tom's sister.

" Of course, if it's not too dear," assented Tom. " Well,
where is Islington ? W^e can't do better than go there, I
should think. Let's go.

Tom's sister would have gone anywhere with him ; so they
walked off, arm in arm, as comfortably as possible. Finding,
presently, that Islington was not in that neighborhood, Tom
made inquiries respecting a public conveyance thither, which
they soon obtained. As they rode along they were very full of
conversation indeed, Tom relating what had happened to him,
and Tom's sister relating what had happened to her, and both
finding a great deal more to say than time to say it in ; for
they had only just begun to talk, in comparison with what they
had to tell each other, when they reached their journey's end.

" Now," said Tom, " we must first look out for some very un-
pretending streets, and then look out for bills in the windows."

576

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

So they walked off again, quite as happily as if they had
just stepped out of a snug little house of their own, to look
for lodgings on account of somebody else. Tom's simplicity
was unabated. Heaven knows ; but now that he had somebody
to rely upon him, he was stimulated to rely a little more upon
himself, and was, in his own opinion, quite a desperate fellow.

After looking up and down for hours, looking at some
scores of lodgings, they began to find it rather fatiguing, es-
pecially as they saw none which were at all adapted to their
purpose. At length, however, in a singular little old-fashioned
house, up a blind street, they discovered two small bed-rooms
and a triangular parlor, which promised to suit them well
enough. Their desiring to take possession immediately was
a suspicious circumstance, but even this was surmounted by
the payment of their first week's rent, and a reference to
John Westlock, Esquire, Furnival's Inn, High Holborn.

Ah ! It was a goodly sight, when this important point was
settled, to behold Tom and his sister trotting round to the
baker's, and the butcher's, and the grocer's, with a kind of
dreadful delight in the unaccustomed cares of housekeeping ;
taking secret counsel together as they gave their small orders,
and distracted by the least suggestion on the part of the shop-
keeper ! When they got back to the triangular parlor, and
Tom's sister, bustling to and fro, busy about a thousand
pleasant nothings, stopped every now and then to give old
Tom a kiss, or smile upon him, Tom rubbed his hands as if
all Islington were his.

It was late in the afternoon now, though, and high time
for Tom to keep his appointment. So, after agreeing with his
sister that in considei'ation of not having dined, they would
venture on the extravagance of chops for supper, at nine, he
Avalked out again to narrate these marvellous occurrences to
John.

" I am quite a family man all at once," thought Tom. " If
I can only get something to do, how comfortable Ruth and I
may be ! Ah, that if ! But it's of no use to despond. I can
but do that, when I have tried everything and failed ; and
e\-en then it won't ser\'e me much. Upon my word," thought
Tom, quickening his pace, " I don't know what John will
think has become of me. He'll begin to be afraid I have
strayed into one of those streets where the countrymen are
murdered ; and that I have been made meat pies of, or some
such horrible thing."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWn.

577

CHAPTER XXXVII.

TOM PINCH, GOING ASTRAY, FINDS THAT HE IS NOT THE
ONLY PERSON IN THAT PREDICAMENT. HE RETALIATES
UPON A FALLEN FOE.

Tom's evil genius did not lead him into tlie dens of any of
those preparers of cannibalic pastr)', who are represented in
many standard country legends, as doing a lively retail busi-
ness in the Metropolis ; nor did it mark him out as the prey
of ring-droppers, pea and thimble-riggers, duffers, touters, or
any of those bloodless sharpers, who are, perhaps, a little better
known to the -Police. He fell into conversation with no gen-
tleman, who took him into a public-house, where there hap-
pened to be another gentleman, who swore he had more money
than any gentleman, and very soon proved he had more money
than one gentleman, by taking his away from him ; neither did
he fall into any other of the numerous man-traps which are
set up, without notice, in the public grounds of this city
But he lost his way. He very soon did that ; and in trj'ing to
find it again, he lost it more and more.

Now, Tom, in his guileless distrust of London, thought
himself very knowing in coming to the determination that he
would not ask to be directed to Furnival's Inn, if he could
help it; unless, indeed, he should find himself near the Mint,
or the Bank of England ; in which case, he would step in,
and ask a civil question or two, confiding in the perfect re-
spectability of the concern. So, on he went, looking up all
the streets he came near, and going up half of them ; and
thus, by dint of not being true to Goswell Street, and filing off
into Aldermanbury, and bewildering himself in Barbican,
and being constant to the wrong point of the compass in Lon-
don Wall, and then getting himself crosswise into Thames
Street by an instinct that would have been marvellous if he
had had the least desire or reason to go there, he found him-
self, at last, hard by the Monument.

The Man in the Monument was quite as mysterious a
being to Tom as the Man in the Moon. It immediately oc-
curred to him that the lonely creature who held himself aloof
from all mankind in that pillar like some old hermit, was the

37

tjyS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

very man of whom to ask his way. Cold, he might be ; little
sympathy he had, perhaps, with human passion — the column
seemed too tall for that ; but if truth didn't live in the base of
the Monument, notwithstanding Pope's couplet about the out-
side of it, where in London (Tom thought) was she likely to
be found !

Coming close below the pillar, it was a great encourage-
ment to Tom to find that the Man in the Monument had sim-
ple tastes ; that stony and artificial as his residence was, he
still preserved some rustic recollections ; that he liked plants,
hung up bird-cages, was not wholly cut off from fresh ground-
sel, and kept young trees in tubs. The Man in the Monu-
ment, himself, was sitting outside the door — his own door :
the Monument-door : what a grand idea ! — and was actually
yawning, as if there, were no Monument to stop his mouth,
and give him a perpetual interest in his own existence.

Tom was advancing towards this remarkable creature, to
inquire the way to Furnival's Inn, when two people came to
see the Monument. They were a gentleman and a lady ; and
the gentleman said, " How much a-piece ? "

'riie Man in the Monument replied, " A Tanner.'

It seemed a low expression, compared with the Monu-
ment.

The gentleman put a shilling into his hand, and the Man
in the Monument opened a dark little door. When the gen-
tleman and lady had passed out of view, he shut it again, and
came slowly back to his chair.

He sat down and laua;hed.

" They don't know what a many steps there is ! " he said.
" It's worth twice the money to stop here. Oh, my eye ! "

The Man in the Monument was a Cynic ; a worldly man !
Tom couldn't ask his way of him. He was prepared to put
no confidence in anything he said.

" My Gracious ! " cried a well-known voice behind Mr.
Pinch. "Why, to be sure it is ! "

At the same time he was poked in the back by a parasol.
Turning round to inquire into this salute, he beheld the
eldest daughter of his late patron.

" Miss Pecksniff ! " said Tom.

"•Why, my goodness, Mr. Pinch! "cried Cherry. "What
are you doing here ? "

" I have rather wandered from my way," said Tom.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

579

" I hope you have run away," said Charity. " It would
be quite spirited and proper if you had, when my Papa so far
forgets himself."

"I have left him," returned Tom. "But it was perfectly
understood on both sides. It was not done clandestinely."

" Is he married ? " asked Cherry, with a spasmodic shake
of her chin.

"No, not yet," said Tom, coloring: "to tell you the
truth, I don't think he is likely to be, if — if Miss Graham is
the object of his passion."

" Tcha, Mr. i'mch ! " cried Charity, with sharp impatience,
" you're very easily deceived. You don't know the arts of
which such a creature is capable. Oh ! it's a wicked world."

" You are not married ? " Tom hinted, to divert the con-
versation.

" N — no ! " said Cherry, tracing out one particular pav-
ing stone in Monument Yard with the end of her parasol.
" I— but really it's quite impossible to explain. Won't you
walk in ? "

" You live here, then ? " said Tom.

" Yes," returned Miss Pecksniff, pointing with her parasol
to Todgers's ; " I reside with this lady, at present.''

The great stress on the two last words suggested to Tom
that he was expected to say something in reference to them.
So he said :

" Only at present ! Are you going home again, soon .'' "

"No,' Mr. Pinch," returned Charity. "No, thank you.
No ! A mother-in-law who is younger than — I mean to say,
who is as nearly as possible about the same age as one's self,
would not quite suit my spirit. Not quite ! " said Cherry
with a spiteful shiver.

" I thought from your saying at present " — Tom observed.

" Really upon my word ! 1 had no idea you would press
me so very closely on the subject, Mr. Pinch," said Charity,
blushing, " or I should not have been so foolish as to allude
to — Oh really ! — won't you walk in ? "

Tom mentioned, to excuse himself, that he had an appoint-
ment in Furnival's Inn, and that coming from Islington he
had taken a few wrong turnings, and arrived at the Monu-
ment instead. Miss Pecksniff simpered very much when he
asked her if she knew the way to Furnival's Inn, and at
length found courage to reply :

" A gentleman who is a friend of mine, or at least who is

58o

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

not exactly a friend so much as a sort of acquaintance — Oh,
upon my word, I hardly know what I say, Mr. Pinch ; you
mustn't suppose there is any engagement between us ; or at
least if there is, that it is at all a settled thing as yet — is
going to Furnival's Inn immediately, I believe upon a little
business, and I am sure he would be very glad to accompany
you, so as to prevent your going wrong again. You had
better walk in. You will very likely find my sister Merry
here," she said, with a curious toss of her head, and anything
but an agreeable smile.

" Then, I think, I'll endeavor to find my way alone," said
Tom ; "for I fear she would not be very glad to see me.
That unfortunate occurrence, in relation to which you and I
had some amicable Avords together, in private, is not likely
to have impressed her with any friendly feeling towards me.
Though it really was not my fault."

" She has never heard of that, you may depend," said
Cherry, gathering up the corners of her mouth, and nodding
at Tom. " I am far from sure that she would bear you any
mighty ill will for it, if she had."

" You don't say so ? " cried Tom, who was really concerned
by this insinuation.

" I say nothing," said Charity. " If I had not already
known what shocking things treachery and deceit are in
themselves, Mr. Pinch, I might perhaps have learnt it from the
success they meet with — from the success they meet with."
Here she smiled as before. " But I don't say anything.
On the contrary, I should scorn it. You had better walk in ! "

There was something hidden here, which piqued Tom's
interest and troubled his tender heart. When, in a moment's
irresolution, he looked at Charity, he could not but observe a
struggle in her face between a sense of triumph and a sense
of shame ; nor could he but remark how, meeting even his
eyes, which she cared so little for, she turned away her own,
for all the splenetic defiance in her manner.

An uneasy thought entered Tom's head ; a shadowy mis-
giving that the altered relations between himself and Peck-
sniff, were somehow to involve an altered knowledge on his
part of other people, and were to give him an insight into
much of which he had had no previous suspicion. And yet
he put no definite construction upon Charity's proceedings,
lie certainly had no idea that as he had been the audience
and spectator of her mortification, she grasped with eager

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 581

delight at any opportunity of reproaching her sister with his
presence in her far deeper misery ; for he knew nothing of it,
and only pictured that sister as tiie same giddy, careless,
trivial creature she always had been, with the same slight
estimation of himself which she had never been at the least
pains to conceal. In short, he had merely a confused im-
pression that Miss Pecksniff was not quite sisterly or kind \
and being curious to set it right, accompanied her, as she
desired.

The house-door being opened, she went in before Tom, re-
questing him to follow her ; and led the way to the parlor door.

" Oh, Merry ! " she said, looking in, " I am so glad you
have not gone home. Who do you think I have met in the
street, and brought to see you ! Mr. Pinch ! There. Now
you are surprised, I am sure I "

Not more surprised than Tom was, when he looked upon
her. Not so much. Not half so much.

" Mr. Pinch has left Papa, my dear," said Cherry, " and
his prospects are quite flourishing. I have promised that
Augustus, who is going that way, shall escort him to the
place he wants. Augustus, my child, where are you .'' "

With these words Miss Pecksniff screamed her way out of
the parlor, calling on Augustus Moddle to appear ; and left
Tom Pinch alone with her sister.

If she had always been his kindest friend ; if she had
treated him through all his servitude with such consideration
as was never yet received by struggling man ; if she had
lightened every moment of those many years, and had ever
spared and never wounded him ; his honest heart could not
have swelled before her with a deeper pity, or a purer freedom
from all base remembrance than it did then.

" My gracious me ! You are really the last person in the
world I should have thought of seeing, I am sure ! "

Tom was sorry to hear her speaking in her old man-
ner. He had not expected that. Yet he did not feel it a
contradiction that he should be sorry to see her so unlike her
old self, and sorry at the same time to hear her speaking in
her old manner. The two things seemed quite natural.

" I wonder you find any gratification in coming to see me.
I can't think what put it in your head. I never had much in
seeing you. There was no love lost between us, Mr. Pinch,
at any time, I think."

Her bonnet lay beside her on the sofa, and she was verj

582

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

busy with the ribbons as she spoke. Much too busy to be
conscious of the woik lier fingers did.

"We never quarrelled," said Tom. — Tom was right in
that, for one person can no more quarrel without an adver-
sary, than one person can play at chess, or fight a duel. " I
hoped you would be glad to shake hands with an old friend.
Don't let us rake up by-gones," said Tom. " If ever I
offended you, forgive me."

She looked at him for a moment ; dropped her bonnet
from her hands ; spread them before her altered face and
burst into tears.

" Oh, Mr. Pinch ! " she said, " although I never used you
well, I did believe your nature was forgiving. I did not think
you could be cmel."

She spoke as little like her old self now, for certain, as
Tom could possibly have wished. But she seemed to be ap-
pealing to him reproachfully, and he did not understand her.

" I seldom showed it — never — I know that. But I had
that belief in you, that if I had been asked to name the person
in the world least likely to retort upon me, I would have
named you, confidently."

" Would have named me ! " Tom repeated.

" Yes," she said with energ}', " and I have often thought

so."

After a moment's reflection, Tom sat himself upon a chair
beside her.

" Do you believe," said Tom, " oh can you think, that what
I said just now, I said with any but the true and plain inten-
tion which my words professed .' I mean it, in the spirit and
the letter. If I ever offended you, forgive me ; I may have
done so, many times. You never injured or offended me.
How, then, could I possibly retort, if even I were stern and
bad enough to wish to do it ! "

After a little while she thanked him, through her tears and
sobs, and told him she had never been at once so sorry and so
comforted, since she left home. Still she wept bitterly ; and
it was the greater pain to Tom to see her weening, from her
standing in especial need, just then, of synij athy and tender-
ness.

"Come, come ! " said Tom, "you used to be as cheerful
as the day was long."

"Ah! used!" she cried, in such a tone as rent Tom's
heart.

AfAI^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 583

"And will be again," said Tom.

" No, never more. No, never, never more. If you should
talk with old Mr. Chuzzlewit, at any time," she added looking
hurriedly into his face — " I sometimes thought he liked you,
but suppressed it — will you promise me to tell him that you
saw me here, and that 1 said I bore in mind the time we
talked together in the churchyard .-' "

Tom promised that he would.

" Many times since then, when I have wished I had been
carried there before that day, I have recalled his words. I
wish that he should know how true they were, although the
least acknowledgment to that effect has never passed my lips,
and never will."

Tom promised this, conditionally, too. He did not tell
her how improbable it was that he and the old man would
ever meet again, because he thought it might disturb her
more.

" If he should ever know this, through your means, dear
Mr. Pinch," said Mercy, " tell him that I sent the message,
not for myself, but that he might be more forbearing and
more patient, and more trustful to some other person, in some
other time of need. Tell him that if he could know how my
heart trembled in the balance that day, and what a very little
would have turned the scale, his own would bleed with pity
for me,"

"Yes, yes," said Tom, "I will."

" When I appeared to him the most unworthy of his help,
I was — I know I was, for I have often, often, thought about
it since — the most inclined to yield to what he showed me.
Oh ! if he had relented but a little more ; if he had thrown
himself in my way for but one other quarter of an hour ; if he
had extended his compassion for a vain, unthinking, miserable
girl, in but the least degree ; he might, and I believe he would,
have saved her ! Tell him that I don't blame him, but am
grateful for the effort that he made ; but ask him for the love
of God, and youth, and in merciful consideration for the
struggle which an ill-advised and unawakened nature makes
to hide the strength it thinks its weakness — ask him never,
never, to forget this* when he deals with one again ! "

Although Tom did not hold the clue to her full meaning,
he could guess it pretty nearly. Touched to the quick, he
took her hand and said, or meant to say, some words of con-
solation. She felt and understood them, whether they were

584

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

spoken or no. He was not quite certain, afterwards, but that
she had tried to kneel down at his feet, and bless him.

He found that he was not alone in the room when she had
left it. Mrs. Todgers was there, shaking her head. Tom had
never seen Mrs. Todgers, it is needless to say, but he had a
perception of her being the lady of the house ; and he saw
some genuine compassion in her eyes, that won his good
opinion.

" Ah, sir ! You are an old friend, I see," said Mrs.
Todgers.

" Yes," said Tom.

"And yet," quoth Mrs. Todgers, shutting the door softly,
"she hasn't told you what her troubles are, I'm certain."

Tom was struck by these words, for they were quite true.
" Indeed," he said, " she has not."

" And never would," said Mrs. Todgers, "if you saw her
daily. She never makes the least complaint to me, or utters
a single word of explanation or reproach. But I know," said
Mrs. Todgers, drawing in her breath, "/know."

Tom nodded sorrowfully, " so do I."

" I fully believe," said Mrs. Todgers, taking her pocket-
handkerchief from the flat reticule, " that nobody can tell one
half of what that poor young creature has to undergo. But
though she comes here, constantly, to ease her poor full heart
without his knowing it ; and saying, ' Mrs. Todgers, I am
very low to-day ; I think that 1 shall soon be dead,' sits cry-
ing in my room until the fit is past ; I know no more from
her. And I believe," said Mrs. Todgers, putting back her
handkerchief again, " that she considers me a good friend
too."

Mrs. Todgers mi<rht have said her best friend. Commer-
cial gentlemen and gravy had tried Mrs. Todgers's temper ;
the main chance — it was such a very small one in her case,
that she might have been excused for looking sharp after it,
lest it should entirely vanish from her sight — had taken a firm
hold on Mrs. Todgers's attention. But in some odd nook in
Mrs. Todgers's breast, up a great many steps, and in a corner
easy to be overlooked, there was a secret door, with " Woman "
written on the spring, which, at a touch from Mercy's hand,
had flown wide open, and admitted her for shelter.

When boarding-house accounts are balanced with all other
ledgers, and the books of the Recording Angel are made up
for ever, perhaps there may be seen an entry to thy credit,
lean Mrs. Todgers, which shall make thee beautiful !

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 5S5

She was growing beautiful so rapidly in Tom's eyes ; for
he saw that she was poor, and that this good had sprung up
in her from among the sordid strivings of her life ; that she
might have been a very Venus in a minute more, if Miss
Pecksniff had not entered with her friend.

" Mr. Thomas Pinch ! " said Charit}', performing the cere-
mony of introduction with evident pride. " Mr. Moddle.
Where's my sister } "

" Gone, Miss Pecksniff," Mrs. Todgers answered. " She
had appointed to be home."

" Ah ! " said Charity, looking at Tom. " Oh, dear me ! "

" She's greatly altered since she's been Anoth — since she's
been married, Mrs. Todgers ! " observed Moddle.

" My dear Augustus ! " said Miss Pecksniff, in a low voice,
" I verily believe you have said that tifty thousand times, in
my hearing. What a Prose you are ! "

This was succeeded by some trifling love passages, which
appeared to originate with, if not to be wholly carried on by
Miss Pecksniff. At any rate, Mr. Moddle was much slower
in his responses than is customary with young lovers, and ex-
hibited a lowness of spirits which was quite oppressive.

He did not improve at all when Tom and he were in the
streets, but sighed so dismally that it was dreadful to hear
him. As a means of cheering him, Tom told him that he
wished him joy.

" Joy ! " cried Moddle. " Ha, ha ! "

" What an extraordinary young man ! " thought Tom.

"The Scorner has not set his seal upon you. You care
what becomes of you ? " said Moddle.

Tom admitted that it was a subject in which he certainly
felt some interest.

" I don't," said Mr. Moddle. " The Elements may have
me when they please. I'm ready."

Tom inferred from these, and other expressions of the
the same nature, that he was jealous. Therefore he allowed
him to take his own course ; which was such a gloomy one,
that he felt a load removed from his mind when they parted
company at the gate of Furnival's Inn.

It was now a couple of hours past John Westlock's dinner-
time ; and he was walking up and down the room, quite anx-
ious for Tom's safety. The table was spread ; the wine was
carefully decanted ; and the dinner smelt delicious.

" Why, Tom, old boy, where on earth have you been ?

586

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Your box is here. Get your boots off instantly, and sit
down ! "

" 1 am sorry to say I can't stay, John," replied Tom Pinch,
who was breathless with the haste he had made in running up
the stairs.

" Can't stay ! "

"If you'll go on with your dinner," said Tom, " I'll tell
you my reason the while. I mustn't eat myself, or I shall
have no appetite for the chops."

" There are no chops here, my good fellow."

" No. But there are at Islington," said Tom.

John Westlock was perfectly confounded by this reply, and
vowed he would not touch a morsel until Tom had explained
himself fullv. So Tom sat down and told him all ; to which
he listened with the greatest interest.

He knew Tom too well, and respected his delicacy too
much, to ask him why he had taken these measures without
communicating with him first. He quite concurred in the
expediency of Tom's immediately returning to his sister, as
he knew so little of the place in which he had left her ; and
good-humoredly proposed to ride back with him in a cab, in
which he might convey his box. Tom's proposition that he
should sup with them that night, he flatly rejected, but made
an appointment with him for the morrow. " And now, Tom,"
he said, as they rode along, " I have a question to ask you,
to which I expect a manly and straightforward answer. Do
you want any money ? I am pretty sure you do."

" I don't indeed," said Tom.

" I believe you are deceiving me."

" No. With many thanks to you, I am quite in earnest,"
Tom replied. " My sister has some money, and so have I. If
I had nothing else, John, I have a five-pound note, which that
good creature, Mrs. Lupin, of the Dragon, handed up to me
outside the coach, in a letter, begging me to borrow it ; and
then drove off as hard as she could go."

" And a blessing on every dimple in her handsome face,
say I ! " cried John, " though why you should give her the
preference over me, I don't know. Never mind. I bide my
time, Tom."

"And I hope you'll continue to bide it," returned Tom,
gayly, " For I owe you more, already, in a hundred other
ways, than I can ever hope to pay."

They parted at the door of Tom's new residence. John

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 5S7

Westlock, sitting in tlie cab, and, catching a glimpse of a
blooming little busy creature darting out to kiss 'J'om, and to
help him with his box, would not have had the least objection
to change places with him.

Well ! she was a cheerful little thing ; and had a quaint,
bright quietness about her, that was infinitely pleasant. Surely
she was the best sauce for chops ever invented. The potatoes
seemed to take a pleasure in sending up their grateful steam
before her ; the froth upon the pint of porter pouted to attract
her notice. But it was all in vain. She saw nothing but Tom.
Tom was the first and last thing in the world.

As she sat opposite to Tom at supper, fingering one of
Tom's pet tunes upon the table-cloth, and smiling in his face,
he had never been so happy in his life.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

SECRET SERVICE.

In walking from the City with his sentimental friend,
Tom Pinch had looked into the face, and brushed against the
threadbare sleeve, of Mr. Nadgett, man of mystery to the
Anolo-Beu'jjalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance Com-
pany. Mr. Nadgett naturally passed away from Tom's re-
membrance as he passed out of his view ; for he didn't know
him, and had never heard his name.

As there are a vast number of people in the huge metrop-
olis of England who rise up every morning, not knowing
where their heads will rest at night, so tiiere are a multitude
who shooting arrows over houses as their daily business, never
know on whom they fall. Mr. Nadgett might have passed
Tom Pinch ten thousand times ; might even have been quite
familiar with his face, his name, pursuits, and character ; yet
never once have dreamed that Tom had any interest in any
act or mystery of his. Tom might have done the like by him,
of course. But the same private man out of all the men ali\e,
was in the mind of each at the same moment ; was prominently
connected, though in a different manner, with the day's ad-
ventures of both ; and formed, when they passed each other
in the street, the one absorbing topic of their thoughts.

588 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Why Tom had Jonas Chuzzlewit in his mind requires no
explanation. Why Mr. Nadgett should have had Jonas Chuz-
zlewit in his, is quite another thing.

But, somehow or other, that amiable and worthy orphan
had become a part of the mysteiy of Mr. Nadgett's existence.
Mr. Nadgett took an interest in his lightest proceedings ; and
it never flagged or wavered. He watched him in and out of
the Assurance Office, where he was now formally installed
as a Director ; he dogged his footsteps in the streets ; he
stood listening when he talked ; he sat in coffee-rooms enter-
ing his name in the great pocket-book, over and over again ;
he wrote letters to himself about him constantly ; and when
he found them in his pocket, put them in the fire, with such
distrust and caution that he would bend down to watch the
crumpled tinder while it floated upward, as if his mind misgave
him, that the mystery it had contained might come out at the
chimney-pot.

And yet all this was quite a secret. Mr. Nadgett kept it
to himself, and kept it close. Jonas had no more idea that
Mr. Nadgett's eyes were flxed on him, than he had that he
was living under the daily inspection and report of a whole
order of Jesuits. Indeed Mr. Nadgett's eyes were seldom
fixed on any other objects than the ground, the clock, or the
fire ; but every button on his coat might have been an eye ;
he saw so much.

The secret manner of the man disarmed suspicion in this
wise ; suggesting, not that he was watching any one, but that
he thought some other man was watching him. He went
about so stealthily, and kept himself so wrapped up in him-
self, that the whole object of his life appeared to be, to avoid
notice, and preserve his own mystery. Jonas sometimes saw
him in the street, hovering in the outer office, waiting at the
door for the man who never came, or slinking off with his
immovable face and drooping head, and the one beaver glove
dangling before him ; but he would as soon have thought of
the cross upon the top of St. Paul's Cathedral taking note
of what he did, or slowly winding a great net about his feet,
as of Nadgett's being engaged in such an occupation.

Mr. Nadgett made a mysterious change about this time in
his rnysterious life ; for whereas he had, until now, been first
seen every morning coming down Cornhill, so exactly like the
Nadgett of the day before, as to occasion a popular belief
that he never went to bed or took his clothes off, he was now

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 589

first seen in Holborn, coming out of Kingsgate Street ; and it
was soon discovered that he actually went every morning to a
barber's shop in that street to get shaved ; and that the bar-
ber's name was Sweedlepipe. He seemed to make appoint-
ments with the man who never came, to meet him at this bar-
ber's ; for he would frequently take long spells of waiting in
the shop, and would ask for pen and ink, and pull out his
pocket-book, and be very busy over it for an hour at a time.
Mrs. Gamp and Mr. Sweedlepipe had many deep discoursings
on the subject of this mysterious customer ; but they usually
agreed that he had speculated too much and was keeping out
of the way.

He must have appointed the man who never kept his word,
to meet him at another new place too ; for one day he was
found, for the first time, by the waiter at the Mourning Coach-
Horse, the House-of-call for Undertakers, down in the City
there, making figures with a pipe-stem in tlie sawdust of a
clean spittoon ; and declining to call for anything, on the
ground of expecting a gentleman presently. As the gentleman
was not honorable enough to keep his engagement, he came
again next day, with his pocket-book in such a state of disten-
tion that he was regarded in the bar as a man of large property.
After that, he repeated his visits every day, and had so much
writing to do, that he made nothing of emptying a capacious
leaden inkstand in two sittings. Although he never talked
much, still, by being there among the regular customers, he
made their acquaintance ; and in course of time became quite
intimate with Mr. Tacker, Mr. Mould's foreman ; and even
with Mr. Mould himself, who openly said he was a long-headed
man, a dry one, a salt fish, a deep file, a rasper : and made
him the subject of many other flattering encomiums.

At the same time, too, he told the people at the Assurance
Office, in his own mysterious way, that there was something
wrong (secretly wrong, of course) iii his li\er, and that he
feared he must put himself under the doctor's hands. He
was delivered over to Jobling upon this representation ; and
though Jobling could not find out where his liver was wrong,
wrong Mr. Nadgett said it w^as ; observing that it was his own
liver and he hoped he ought to know. Accordinglv, he became
Mr. Jobling's patient ; and detailing his symptoms in his slow
and secret way, was in and out of that gentleman's room a
dozen times a dny.

As he pursued all these occupations at once ; and all

59°

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Steadily ; and all secretly ; and never slackened in his watch-
fulness of everything that Mr, Jonas said, and did, and left un-
said and undone ; it is not improbable that they were, secretly,
essential parts of some great scheme which Mr. Nadgett had
on foot.

It was on the morning of this very day on which so much
had happened to Tom Pinch, that Nadgett suddenly appeared
before Mr. Montague's house in Pall Mall — he always made
his appearance as if he had that moment come up a trap —
when the clocks were striking nine. He rang the bell in a
covert under-handed way, as though it were a treasonable act ;
and passed in at the door, the moment it was opened wide
enou2;h to receive his body. That done, he shut it immediatly,
with his own hands.

Mr. Bailey, taking up his name without delay, returned
with a request that he would follow him into his master's
chamber. The chairman of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested
Loan and Life Assurance Board was dressing, and received
him as a business person who was often backwards and for-
wards, and was received at all times for his business' sake.

"Well, Mr. Nadgett?"

Mr. Nadgett put his hat upon the ground and coughed.
The boy having withdrawn and shut the door, he went to it
sofdy, examined the handle, and leturned to within a pace or
two of the chair in which Mr. Montague sat.

" Any news, Mr. Nadgett ? "

" I think we have some news at last, sir."

" I am happy to hear it. I began to fear you were off the
scent, Mr. Nadgett."

" No, sir. It grows cold occasionally. It will sometimes.
We can't help that."

" You are truth itself, Mr. Nadgett. Do you report a great
success .'' "

" That depends upon your judgment and construction of
it," was his answer, as he put on his spectacle .

" What do you think of it yourself. Have you pleased
yourself .'' "

Mr. Nadgett rubbed his hands slowly, stroked his ' chin,
looked round the room, and said, " Yes, yes, I think it's a
good case. I am disposed to think it's a good case. Will you
go into it at once .'' "

" By all means."

Mr, Nadgett picked out a certain chair from among the

H
>

>-l

a
a

a

X

H

u

O
«

e4

<

ei

S

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

591

rest, and having planted it in a particular spot, as carefully as
it he had been going to vault over it, placed another chair iti
front of it ; leaving room for his own legs between them, lie
then sat down in chair number two, and laid his pocket-book,
very carefully, on chair number one. He then untied the
pocket-book, and hung the string o\er the back of chair num-
ber one. He then drew both the chairs a little nearer Mr.
Montague, and opening the pocket-book spread out its con-
tents. Finally he selected a certain memorandum from the
rest, and held it out to his employer, who, during the whole
of these preliminary ceremonies, had been making violent
efforts to conceal his impatience.

" I wish you wouldn't be so fond of making notes, my ex-
cellent friend," said Tigg Montague with a ghastly smile. "■ I
wish you would consent to gi\-e me their purport by word of
mouth."

"I don't like word of mouth," said Mr. Nadgett gravely.
"We never know who's listening."

Mr. Montague was going to retort, when Nadgett handed
him the paper, and said, with quiet exultation in his tone,
'• We'll begin at the beginning, and take that one first, if you
please, sir."

The chairman cast his eyes upon it, cold!}-, and with a
smile which did not render any great homage to the slow and
methodical habits of his spy. But he had not read half-a-
dozen lines when the expression of his face began to change,
and before he had finished the perusal of the paper, it was full
of grave and serious attention.

" Number Two," said Mr. Nadgett, handing him another,
and receiving back the first. " Read Number Two, sir, if you
please. There is more mterest as you go on."

Tigg Montague leaned backward in Ins chair, and cast
upon his emissaiy such a look of vacant wonder (not unmin-
gled with alarm), that Mr. Nadgett considered it necessary to
repeat the request he had already twice preferred : with the
view of recalling his attention to the point in hand. Profiting
by the hint, Mr. Montague went on with Number Two, and
afterwards with Numbers Three, and Four, and Five, and so on.

These documents were all in Mr. Nadgett's writing, and
were apparently a series of memoranda, jotted down from
time to time upon the backs of old letters, or any scrap of
paper that came first to hand. Loose straggling scrawls they
were, and of very uninviting exterior ; but they had we^gh*/

592

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

purpose in them, if the chairman's face were any index to the
character of their contents.

The progress of Mr. Nadgett's secret satisfaction arising
out of the effect they made, kept pace with the emotions of
the reader. At first, Mr. Nadgett sat with his spectacles low
down upon his nose, looking over them at his employer, and
nervously rubbing his hands. After a little while, he changed
his posture in his chair for one of greater ease, and leisurely
perused the next document he held ready, as if an occasional
glance at his employer's face were now enough, and all occa-
sion for anxiety or doubt were gone. And finally he rose and
looked out of the window, where he stood with a triumphant
air, until Tigg Montague had finished.

" And this is the last, Mr. Nadgett ! " said that gentle-
man, drawing a long breath.

"That, sir, is the last."

" You are a wonderful man, Mr. Nadgett ! "

" I think it is a pretty good case," he returned as he
gathered up his papers. " It cost some trouble, sir."

" The trouble shall be well rewarded, Mr. Nadgett." Nad-
gett bowed. " There is a deeper impression of Somebody's
Hoof here, than I had expected, Mr. Nadgett. I may congra-
tulate myself upon your being such a good hand at a secret."

"Oh ! nothing has an interest to me that's not a secret,"
replied Nadgett, as he tied the string about his pocket-book,
and put it up. " It almost takes away any pleasure I may
have had in this inquiry even to make it known to you."

"A most invaluable constitution," Tigg retorted. "A
great gift for a gentleman employed as you are, Mr. Nadgett.
Much better than discretion : though you possess that quality
also in an eminent degree. 1 think I heard a double knock.
Will you put your head out of window, and tell me whether
there is anybody at the door ? "

Mr. Nadgett softly raised the sash, and peered out from
the very corner, as a man might who was looking down into a
street from whence a brisk discharge of musketry might be
expected at any moment. Drawing in his head with equal
caution, he observed, not altering his voice or manner :

" Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit ! "

" I thought so," Tigg retorted.

" Shall I go ? "

" I think you had better. Stay though ! No ! remaio
here, Mr. Nadgett, if you please."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

593

It was remarkable how pale and flurried he had become in
an instant. There was nothing to account for it. His eye
had fallen on his razors : but what of them !

Mr. Chuzzlewit was announced.

" Show him up directly, Nadgett ! Don't leave us alone
together. Mind you don't, now ! By the Lord ! " he added
in a whisper to himself : " We don't know what may happen."

Saying this, he hurriedly took up a couple of hair-brushes,
and began to e.xercise them on his own head, as if his toilet
had not been interrupted. Mr. Nadgett withdrew to the stove,
in which there was a small fire for the convenience of heating
curling irons ; and taking advantage of so favorable an oppor-
tunity for drying his pocket-handkerchief, produced it without
loss of time. There he stood, during the whole interview,
holding it before the bars, and sometimes, but not often,
glancing over his shoulder.

" My dear Chuzzlewit ! " cried Montague, as Jonas en-
tered ; "you rise with the lark. Though you go to bed with
the nightingale, you rise with the lark. You have superhuman
energy, my dear Chuzzlewit ! "

" Ecod ! " said Jonas, with an air of languor and ill-humor,
as he took a chair, " I should be very glad not to get up with
the lark, if I could help it. But I am a light sleeper ; and
it's better to be up, than lying awake, counting the dismal old
church-clocks, in bed."

" A light sleeper ! " cried his friend. " Now, what is a
light sleeper ? I often hear the expression, but upon my life
I have not the least conception what a light sleeper is."

" Hallo ! " said Jonas, *' What's that ? Oh, old what's-his-
name ; looking (as usual) as if he wanted to skulk up the
chimney."

" Ha, ha! I have no doubt he does."

" Well ! He's not wanted here, I suppose," said Jonas.
*' He may go, mayn't he ? "

" Oh, let him stay, let him stay ! " said Tigg. " He's a
mere piece of furniture. He has been making his report, and
is waiting for further orders. He has been told," said Tigg,
raising his voice, " not to lose sight of certain friends of ours,
or to think that he has done with them by any means. He
understands his business."

" He need," replied Jonas ; " for of all the precious old
dummies in appearance that ever I saw, he's about the worst.
He's afraid of me, I think."

38

594

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

" It's my belief," said Tigg, " that you are Poison to him.
Nadgett ! give me that towel ! "

He had as little occasion for a towel as Jonas had for a
start. But Nadgett brought it quickly ; and, having lingered
for a moment, fell back upon his old post by the fire.

" You see, my dear fellow," resumed Tigg, " you are too
what's the matter with your lips .'' How white they are ! "

" I took some vinegar just now," said Jonas. " I had
oysters for my breakfast. Where are they white ? " he added,
muttering an oath, and rubbing them upon his handkerchief.
" I don't believe they are white."

" Now I look again, they are not," replied his friend.
" They are coming right again."

" Say what you were going to say," cried Jonas angrily,
" and let my face be ! As long as I can show my teeth when
I want to (and I can do that pretty well), the color of my
lips is not material."

" Quite true," said Tigg. " I was only going to say that
you are too quick and active for our friend. He is too shy
to cope with such a man as you, but does his duty well. Oh,
very well ! But what is a light sleeper ? "

" Hang a light sleeper ! " exclaimed Jonas pettishly.

" No, no," interrupted Tigg. " No. We'll not do that."

" A light sleeper ain't a heavy one," said Jonas in his
sulky way ; " don't sleep much, and don't sleep well, and
don't sleep sound."

"And dreams," said Tigg, "and cries out in an ugly
manner ; and when the candle burns clown in the night, is in
an agony ; and all that sort of thing. I see ! "

They were silent for a little time. Then Jonas spoke :

"Now we've done with child's talk, I want to have a word
with you. I want to have a word with you before we meet
up yonder to-day. I am not satisfied with the state of affairs."

" Not satisfied ! " cried Tigg. " The money comes in
well."

" The money comes in well enough," retorted Jonas \ "but
it don't come out well enough. It can't be got at, easily
enough. I haven't sufficient power ; it is all in your hands.
Ecod ! what with one of your by-laws, and another of your
by-laws, and your votes in this capacity, and your votes in
that capacity, and your official rights, and your individual
rights, and other people's rights who are only you again,
there are no rights left for me. Everybody else's rights are my

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 595

wrongs. What's the use of my having a voice if it's always
drowned ? I might as well be dumb, and it would be much
less aggravating. I'm not agoing to stand that, you know."

" No ! " said Tigg in an insinuating tone.

" No 1 " returned Jonas, "I'm not indeed. I'll play Old
Gooseberry with the office, and make you glad to buy me out
at a good high figure, if you try any of your tricks with me.'

" I give you my honor — — ," Montague began.

" Oh ! confound your honor," interrupted Jonas, who be-
came more coarse and quarrelsome as the other remonstrated,
which may have been a part of Mr. Montague's intention : " I
want a little more control over the money. You may have all the
honor, if you like ;" I'll never bring you to book for that. But
I'm not agoing to stand it, as it is now. If you should take
it into your honorable head to go abroad with the bank, I
don't see much to prevent you. Well ! That won't do. Y've
had some very good dinners here, but they'd come too dear
on such terms : and therefore, that won't do."

"I am unfortunate to find you in this humor," said Tigg,
with a remarkable kind of smile : " for I was going to propose
to you — for your own ad\'antage ; solely for your own advan-
tage— that you should venture a little more with us."

" Was you, by G — .'' " said Jonas, with a short laugh.

"Yes. And to suggest," pursued Montague, " that surely
you have friends ; indeed, I know you have ; who would
answer our purpose admirably, and whom we should be de-
lighted to receive."

" How kind of you ! You'd be delighted to receive 'cm,
would you ? " said Jonas, bantering.

" I give you my sacretl honor, quite transported. As your
friends, observe I "

" Exactly," said Jonas ; " as my friends, of course. You'll
be very much delighted when you get 'em, I have no doubt.
And it'll be all to my advantage, won't it ? "

" It will be very much to your advantage," answered Mon-
tague, poising a brush in each hand, and looking steadily upon
him. " It will be very much to your advantage, I assure you."

" And you can tell me how," said Jonas, " can't you .' "

" Shall I tell you how ? " returned the other.

" I think you had better," said Jonas. "Strange things
have been done in the Assurance way before now, by strange
sorts of men, and I mean to take care of myself."

" Chuzzlewit 1 " replied Montague, leaning forward, with

596 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

his arms upon his knees, and looking full into his face.
" Strange things have been done, and are done every day ;
not only in our way, but in a variety of other ways ; and no
one suspects them. But ours, as you say, my good friend, is
a strange way ; and we strangely happen, sometimes, to come
into the knowledge of very strange events."

He beckoned to Jonas to bring his chair nearer ; and look-
ing slightly round, as if to remind him of the presence of
Nadgett, whispered in his ear.

From red to white ; from white to red again ; from red to
yellow ; then to a cold, dull, awful, sweat-bedabbled blue. In
that short whisper, all these changes fell upon the face of
Jonas Chuzzlewit ; and when at last he laid his hand upon the
whisperer's mouth, appalled, least any syllable of what he
said should reach the ears of the third person present, it was
as bloodless, and as heavy as the hand of Death.

He drew his chair away and sat a spectacle of terror,
misery, and rage. He was afraid to speak, or look, or move,
or sit still. Abject, crouching, and miserable, he was a greater
degradation to the form he bore, then if he had been a loath-
some wound from head to heel.

His companion leisurely resumed his dressing, and com-
pleted it, glancing sometimes with a smile at the transforma-
tion he had effected, but never speaking once.

" You'll not object," he said, when he was quite equipped,
" to venture further with us, Chuzzlewit, my friend ? "

His pale lips faintly stammered out a " No."

" Well said ! That's like yourself. Do you know I was
thinking yesterday that your father-in-law, relying on your ad-
vice as a man of great sagacity in money matters, as no doubt
you are, would join us, if the thing were well presented to
him. He has money ? "

"Yes, he has money."

" Shall I leave Mr. PecksniiT to you ? Will you undertake
for Mr. Pecksniff ? "

"I'll try. I'll do my best."

" A thousand thanks," replied the other, clapping him
upon the shoulder. " Shall we walk down stairs .'' Mr. Nad-
gett ! Follow us, if you please."

They went down in that order. Whatever Jonas felt in
reference to Montague ; whatever sense he had of being caged,
and barred, and trapped, and having fallen down into a pit
of deepest ruin ; whatever thoughts came crowding on his

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. c,g-j

mind even at that early time, of one terrible chance of escape,
of one red glimmer in a sky of blackness ; he no more thought
that the slinking figure half a dozen stairs behind him was
his pursuing Fate, than that the other figure at his side was
his Good Angel.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

CONTAINING SOME FURTHER PARTICULARS OF THE DOMESTIC
ECONOMY OF THE PINCHES ; WITH STRANGE NEWS FROM
THE CITY, NARROWLY CONCERNING TOM.

Pleasant little Ruth ! Cheerful, tidy, bustling, quiet lit-
tle Ruth ! No doll's house ever yielded greater delight to its
young mistress, than little Ruth derived from her" glorious
dominion over the triangular parlor and the two small bed-
rooms.

To be Tom's housekeeper. What dignity ! Housekeeping,
upon the commonest terms, associated itself with elevated
responsibilities of all sorts and kinds ; but housekeeping for
Tom, implied the utmost complication of grave trusts and
niighty charges. Well might she take the keys out of the little
chiffonier which held the tea and sugar ; and out of the two
little damp cupboards down by the fire-place, where the very
black beetles got mouldy, and had the shine taken out of
their backs by envious .mildew ; and jingle them upon a ring
before Tom's eyes when he came down to breakfast ! Weil
might she, laughing musically, put them up in that blessed
little pocket of hers with a merry pride ! For it was such a
grand novelty to be mistress of anything, that if she had been
the most relentless and despotic of all little houskeepers, she
might have pleaded just that much for her excuse, and have
been honorably acquitted.

So far from being despotic, however, there was a coyness
about her ver\' way of pouring out the tea, which Tom quite
revelled in. And when she asked him what he would like to
have for dinner, and faltered out "chops" as a reasonably
good suggestion after their last night's successful supper, Tom
grew quite facetious and rallied her desperately.

598

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I don't know, Tom," said his sister, blushing, " I am
not quite confident, but I think I could make a beef-steak
pudding, if I tried, Tom."

" In the whole catalogue of cooker}-, there is nothing I
should like so much as a beef-steak pudding!" cried Tom :
slapping his leg to give the greater force to this reply.

" Yes, dear, that's excellent ! But if it should happen not
to come quite right the first time," his sister faltered ; " if it
should happen not to be a pudding exactly, but should turn
out a stew, or a soup, or something of that sort, you'll not be
vexed, Tom, will you ? "

The serious way in which she looked at Tom ; the way in
which Tom looked at her ; and the way in which she gradually
broke into a merry laugh at her own expense ; would have
enchanted you.

"Why," said Tom, "this is capital. It gives us a new,
and quite an uncommon interest in the dinner. We put into
a lottery for a beef-steak pudding, and it is impossible to say
what we may get. We may make some wonderful discovery,
perhaps, and produce such a dish as never was known before."

" I shall not be at all surprised if we do, Tom," returned
his sister, still laughing merrily, " or if it should prove to be
such a dish as we shall not feel very anxious to produce
again ; but the meat must come out of the saucepan at last,
somehow or other, you know. We can't cook it into nothing
at all ; that's a great comfort. So if you like to venture, /
will."

" I have not the least doubt," rejoined Tom, " that it will
come out an excellent pudding ; or at all events, I am sure
that I shall think it so. There is naturally something so
handy and brisk about you, Ruth, that if you said you could
make a bowl of faultless turtle soup, I should believe you."

And Tom was right. She was precisely that sort of person.
Nobody ought to have been able to resist her coaxing manner ;
and nobody had any business to tr}-. Yet she never seemed
to know it was her manner at all. That was the best of it.

Well ! she washed up the breakfast cups, chatting away
the whole time, and telling Tom all sorts of anecdotes about
the brass-and-copper founder ; put everything in its place ;
made the room as neat as herself ; — you must not suppose its
shape was half as neat as hers though, or anything like it —
and brushed Tom's old hat round and round and round again,
until it was as sleek as Mr. Pecksniff. Then she discovered, all

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

599

in a moment, that Tom's shirt-collar was frayed at the edge ;
and flying up stairs for a needle and thread, came flying down
asain with her thimble on, and set it right with wonderful
expertness ; never once sticking the needle into his face,
although she was humming his pet tune from first to last, and
beating time with the fingers of her left hand upon his neck-
cloth. She had no sooner done this, than off she was again ;
and there she stood once more, as brisk and busy as a bee,
tying that compact little chin of hers into an equally compact
little bonnet : intent on bustling out to the butcher's without
a minute's loss of time ; and inviting Tom to come and see
the steak cut, with his own eyes.. As to Tom, he was ready
to go anywhere ; so, off they trotted, arm-in-arm, as nimbly as
you please : saying to each other what a quiet street it was to
lodge in, and how very cheap, and what an aiiy situation.

To see the butcher slap the steak, before he laid it on the
block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfa.^t
instantly. It was agreeable, too — it really was — to see him
cut it off, so smooth and juicy. There was nothing savage in
the act, although the knife was large and keen ; it was a piece
of art, high art ; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of
tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading. It was
the triumph of mind over matter ; quite.

Perhaps the greatest cabbage-leaf ever grown in a garden
was wrapped about this steak, before it was delivered over lo
Tom. But the butcher had a sentiment for his business, and
knew how to refine upon it. When he saw Tom putting the
cabbage-leaf into his pocket awkwardly, he begged to be
allowed to do it for him; "for meat," he said with some
emotion, "must be humored, not drove."

Back they went to the lodgings again, after they had bought
some eggs, and flour, and such small matters ; and Tom sat
gravely dowai to write, at one end of the parlor table, while
Ruth prepared to make the pudding, at the other end ; for
there was nobody in the house but an old woman (the land-
lord being a mysterious sort of man, who went out early in
the morning, and was scarcely ever seen) ; and saving in
mere household drudger}-, they waited on themselves.

" What are you writing, Tom .-' " inquired his sister, laying
her hand upon his shoulder.

" Why, you see, my dear," said Tom, leaning back in his
chair, and looking up in her face, "■ I am very anxious of course,
to obtain some suitable employment ; and before Mr. West-

6oo MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

lock comes this afternoon, I think I may as well prepare a
little description of myself and my qualifications ; such as he
could show to any friend of his."

" You had better do the same for me, Tom, also," said
his sister, casting down her eyes. " I should dearly like to
keep house for you, and take care of you always, Tom ; but
we are not rich enough for that."

" We are not rich," returned Tom, " certainly ; and we
may be much poorer. But we will not part, if we can help it.
No, no : we will make up our minds, Ruth, that, unless we
are so very unfortunate as to render me quite sure that you
would be better off away from me than with me, we will battle
it out together. I am certain we shall be happier if we can
battle it out together. Don't you think we shall ? "

" Think Tom ! "

" Oh, tut, tut ! " interposed Tom, tenderly. " You mustn't
cr>'."

" No, no ; I won't, Tom. But you can't afford it, dear.
You can't, indeed."

" We don't know that," said Tom. " How are we to know
that, yet awhile, and without trying "i Lord bless my soul ! "
Tom's energy became quite grand. " There is no knowing
what may happen, if we try hard. And I am sure we can
live contentedly upon a very little — if we can only get it."

" Yes : that I am sure we can, Tom."

" Why, then," said Tom, " We must try for it. My friend,
John Westlock, is a capital fellow, and very shrewd and in-
telligent. I'll take his advice. We'll talk it over with him —
both of us together. You'll like John very much, when you
come to know him, I am certain. Don't cry, don't ciy. You
make a beef-steak pudding, indeed ! " said Tom, giving her a
gentle push. "Why, you haven't boldness enough for a
dumpling ! "

" You ?w7/call it a pudding, Tom. Mind ! I told you not ! "

" I may as well call it that, till it proves to be something
else," said Tom. " Oh, you are going to work in earnest, are
you .? "

Ay, ay ! That she was. And in such pleasant earnest,
moreover, that Tom's attention wandered from his writing
every moment. First, she tripped down stairs into the kitchen
for the floor, then for the pie-board, then for the eggs, then
for the butter, then for a jug of water, then for the rolling-pin,
then for a pudding-basin, then for the pepper, then for the

MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 60 1

salt ; making a separate journey for ever\-thing, and laugh-
ing every time she started off afresh. When all the materials
were collected, she was horrified to find she had no apron on,
and so ran up stairs, by way of variety, to fetch it. She didn't
put it on up stairs, but came dancing down with it in her hand ;
and being one of those little women to whom an apron is a
most becoming little vanity, it took an immense time to ar-
range ; having to be carefully smoothed down beneath — Oh,
heaven, what a wicked little stomacher ! and to be gathered
up into little plaits by the strings before it could be tied, and
to be tapped, rebuked, and wheedled, at the pockets, before
it would set right, which at last it did, and when it did^ — but
never mind ; this is a sober chronicle. And then, there were
her cuffs to be tucked up, for fear of flour ; and she had a
little ring to pull off her finger, which wouldn't come off
(foolish little ring !) ; and during the whole of these prepara-
tions she looked demurely every now and then at Tom, from
under her dark eye-lashes, as if they were all a part of the
pudding, and indispensable to its composition.

For the life and soul of him Tom could get no further in
his writing than, " A respectable young man, aged thirty-five,"
and this, notwithstanding the show she made of being super-
naturally quiet, and going about on tiptoe, lest she should
disturb him : which only served as an additional means of
distracting his attention, and keeping it upon her.

" Tom," she said at last, in high glee. " Tom ! "

" What now t " said Tom, repeating to himself, " aged
thirty-five ! "

" Will you look here a moment, please ? "

As if he hadn't been looking all the time !

" I am going to begin, Tom. Don't you wonder why I
butter the inside of the basin t " said his busy little sister.

"Not more than you do, I dare say," replied Tom, laugh-
ing. "For I believe you don't know anything about it."

"What an Infidel you are, Tom ! How else do you think
it would turn out easily when it was done ? For a civil-
engineer and land-surveyor not to know that ! My goodness,
Tom ! "

It was wholly out of the question to try to write. Tom
lined out " A respectable young man, aged thirty-five ; " and
sat looking on, pen in hand, with one of the most loving smiles
imaginable.

Such a busy little woman as she was ! So full of self-

6o2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

importance, and trying so hard not to smile, or seem uncertain
about anything! It was a perfect treat to Tom to see her
with her brows knit, and her rosy lips pursed up, kneading
away at the crust, rolling it out, cutting it up into strips, lining
the basin with it, shaving it offline round the rim, chopping
up the stake into small pieces, raining down pepper and salt
upon them, packing them into the basin, pouring in cold water
for gravy, and never venturing to steal a look in his direction,
lest her gravity should be disturbed ; until, at last, the basin
being quite full and only wanting the top crust, she clapped
her hands all covered with paste and flour, at Tom, and burst
out heartily into such a charmmg little laugh of triumph, that
the pudding need have had no other seasoning to commend it
to the taste of any reasonable man on earth.

" Where's the pudding? " said Tom. For he was cutting
his jokes, Tom was.

" Where ? " she answered, holding it up with both hands.
" Look at it ! "

" That a pudding ! " said Tom.

"It will be, you stupid fellow, when it's covered in,"
returned his sister. Tom still pretending to look incredulous,
she gave him a tap on the head with the rolling-pin, and still
laughing merrily, had returned to the composition of the
top crust, when she started and turned very red. Tom started,
too, for following her eyes, he saw John Westlock in the room.

" Why, my goodness, John ! How did you come in ? "

" I beg your pardon," said John — "your sister's pardon
especially — but I met an old lady at the street door, who re-
quested me to enter here ; and as you didn't hear me knock,
and the door was open, I made bold to do so. I hardly know,"
said John, with a smile, " why any of us should be discon-
certed at my having accidentally intruded upon such an agree-
able domestic occupation, so very agreeable and skilfully pur-
sued ; but I must confess that / am. Tom, will you kindly
come to my relief ? "

" Mr. John Westlock," said Tom. " My sister."

" I hope, that as the sister of so old a friend," said John,
laughing, " you will have the goodness to detach your first
impressions of me from my unfortunate entrance."

" My sister is not indisposed perhaps to say the same to
you on her own behalf," retorted Tom.

John said, of course, that this wms quite unnecessar}', for he
had been transfixed in silent admiration ; and he held out his

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 03

hand to Miss Pinch ; who couldn't take it, however, by reason
of thetiour and paste upon her own. This, which mi,2;ht seem
calculated to increase the general confusion and render matters
worse, had in reality the best effect ni the world, for neither
of them could help laughing ; and so they both found them-
selves on easy terms immediately.

" I am delighted to see you," said Tom. " Sit down."

" I can only think of sitting down, on one condition," re-
turned his friend : " and that is, that your sister goes on with
the pudding, as if you were still alone."

"That lam sure she will," said Tom. "On one other
condition, and that is, that you stay and help us to eat it."

Poor little Ruth was seized with a palpitation of the heart
when Tom committed this appalling indiscretion, for she felt
that if the dish turned out a failure, she never would be able
to hold up her head before John Westlock again. Quite un-
conscious of her state of mind, John accepted the invitation
with all imaginable heartiness ; and after a little more pleas-
antry concerning this same pudding, and the tremendous ex-
pectations he made believe to entertain of it, she blushingly
resumed her occupation, and he took a chair.

" I am here much earlier than I intended, Tom ; but I will
tell you what brings me, and I think I can answer for your
being glad to hear it. Is that anything you wish to show
me } "

" Oh dear no ! " cried Tom, who had forgotten the blotted
scrap of paper in his hand, until this iiuiuiry brought it to his
recollection. " ' A respectable young man, aged thirty-five ' — ■
The beginning of a 'description of myself. That's alk"

"I don't think you will have occasion to finish it, Tom.
But how is it you never told me you had friends in London ? "
■ Tom looked at his sister with all his might ; and certainly
his sister looked with all her might at him.

" Friends in London ! " echoed Tom.

" Ah ! " said Westlock, " to be sure."

" Have iy;// any friends in London, Ruth, my dear.^"
asked Tom.

" No, 'I'om."

" I am very happy to hear that / have," said Tom, "but
it's news to me. I never knew it. They must be capital peo-
ple to keep a secret, John."

" You shall judge for yourself," returned the other.
" Seriously, Tom, here, is the plain state of the case. As \

6 04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

was sitting at breakfast this morning, there comes a knock at
my door."

" On which you cried out, very loud, ' Come in ! ' " sug-
gested Tom.

" So I did. And the person who knocked, not being a
respectable young man, aged thirty-five, from the country,
came in when he was invited, instead of standing gaping and
staring about him on the landing. Well ! When he came
in, I found he was a stranger ; a grave, business-like, sedate-
looking, stranger. ' Mr. Westlock ? ' said he. ' That is my
name,' said I. ' The favor of a few words with you ? ' said he.
' Pray be seated, sir,' said 1."

Here John stopped for an instant, to glance towards the
table, where Tom's sister, listening attentively, was still busy
with the basin, which by this time made a noble appearance.
Then he resumed :

"The pudding having taken a chair, Tom " —

" What ! " cried Tom.

" Having taken a chair."

" You said a pudding."

" No, no," replied John, coloring rather ; " a chair. The
idea of a stranger coming into my rooms at half-past eight
o'clock in the morning, and taking a pudding ! Having taken
a chair, Tom, a chair — amazed me by opening the conversation
thus : ' T believe you are acquainted, sir, with Mr. Thomas
Pinch ? ' "

" No ! " cried Tom.

" His very words, I assure you. I told him I was. Did
I know where you were at present residing ? Yes. In Lon-
don ? Yes. He had casually heard, in a roundabout wa}',
that you had left your situation with Mr. Pecksniff. Was
that the fact? Yes, it was. Did you want another.? Yes,
you did."

" Certainly," said Tom, nodding his head.

" Just what I impressed upon him. You may rest assured
that I set that point beyond the possibility of any mistake,
and gave him distinctly to understand that he might make up
his mind about it. Ver)'^ well.

" ' Then,' said he, ' 1 think I can accommodate him.' "

Tom's sister stopped short.

" Lord bless me ! " cried Tom. " Ruth, my dear, ' think
t can accommodate him.' "

"Of course 1 begged him," pursued John Westlock,

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

605

glancing at Tom's sister, who was not less eager \\\ her interest
than Tom himself, " to proceed, and said that I would under-
take to see you immediately. He replied that he had very
little to say, being a man of few words, but such as it was, it
was to the purpose — and so, indeed, it turned out — for he im-
mediately went on to tell me that a friend of his was in want
of a kind of secretary and librarian ; and that although the sal-
ary was small, being only a hundred pounds a year, with nei-
ther board nor lodging, still the duties were not heavy, and
there the post was. Vacant, and ready for your acceptance."

" Good gracious me ! " cried Tom ; " a hundred pounds a
year 1 My dear John 1 Ruth, my love I A hundred pounds
a year ! "

" But the strangest part of the stor)'," resumed John West-
lock, laying his hand on Tom's wrist, to bespeak his attention,
and repress his ecstasies for the moment ; " the strangest part
of the story, Miss Pinch, is this. I don't know this man from
Adam ; neither does this man know Tom."

" He can't," said Tom, in great perplexity, " if he's a
Londoner. I don't know any one in London."

"And on my observing," John resumed, still keeping his
hand upon Tom's wrist, " that I had no doubt he would
excuse the freedom I took, in inquiring who directed him to
me ; how he came to know of the change which had taken
place in my friend's position ; and how he came to be
acquainted with my friend's peculiar fitness for such an office
as he had described ; he dryly said that he was not at liberty
to enter into any explanations."

" Not at liberty to enter into any explanations ! " repeated
Tom, drawing a long breath.

" ' I must be perfectly aware,' he said," John added, " ' that
to any person who had ever been in Mr. Pecksniff's neigh-
borhood, Mr. Thomas Pinch and his acquirements were as
well known as the Church steeple, or the Blue Dragon.' "

" The Blue Dragon ! " repeated Tom, staring alternately
at his friend and his sister.

" Ay ; think of that ! He spoke as familiarly of the Blue
Dragon, I give you my word, as if he had been Mark Tapley.
I opened my eyes, I can tell you, when he did so ; but I could
not fancy I had ever seen the man before, although he said
with a smile, ' You know the Blue Dragon, Mr. Westlock ;
you kept it up there, one or twice, yourself.' Kept it up there \
So I did. You remember, Tom .'' "

6o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Tom nodded with great significance, and falling into a
state of deeper perplexity than before, observed that this was
the most unaccountable and extraordinary circumstance he
had ever heard of in his life.

'* Unaccountable ? " his friend repeated. " I became
afraid of the man. Though it was broad day, and bright
sunshine, I was positively afraid of him. I declare I half
suspected him to be a supernatural visitor, and not a mortal,
until he took out a common-place description of pocket-book,
and handed me this card."

" Mr. Fips," said Tom, reading it aloud. " Austin Friars.
Austin Fria:rs sounds ghostly, John."

" Fips don't, I think," was John's reply. " But there he
lives, Tom, and there he expects us to call this morning. And
now you know as much of this strange incident as I do, upon
my honor."

Tom's face, between his exultation in the hundred pounds
a year, and his wonder at this narration, was only to be
equalled by the face of his sister, on which there sat the very
best expression of blooming surprise that any painter could
have wished to see. What the beef-steak pudding would ha\e
come to, if it had not been by this time finished, astrology
itself could hardly determine.

"Tom," said Ruth, after a little hesitation, "perhaps Mr.
Westlock, in his friendship for you, knows more of this than
he chooses to tell."

" No, indeed ! " cried John, eagerly. " It is not so, I
assure you. I wish it were. I cannot take credit to myself,
Miss Pinch, for any such thing. All that I know, or, so far
as I can judge, am likely to know, I have told you."

" Couldn't you know more, if you thought proper t " said
Ruth, scraping the pie-board industriously.

" No," retorted John. " Indeed, no. It is very ungenerous
in you to be so suspicious of me when I repose implicit faith
in you. I have unbounded confidence in the pudding. Miss
Pinch."

She laughed at this, but they soon got back into a seri-
ous vein, and discussed the subject with profound gravity.
Whatever else was obscure in the business, it appeared to be
quite plain that Tom was offered a salary of one hundred
pounds a year ; and this being the main point, the surround-
ing obscurity rather set it off than otherwise.

Tom, being in a great flutter, wished to start for Austin

MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT. 607

Friars instantly, but they waited nearly an hour, by John's
advice, before they departed. Tom made himself as spruce
as he could before leaving home, and when John Westlock,
through the half-opened parlor door, had glimpses of that
brave little sister brushing the collar of his coat in the passage,
taking up loose stitches in his gloves, and hovering lightly
about and about him, touching him up here and there in the
height of her quaint, little, old-fashioned tidiness, he called to
mind the fancy portraits of her on the wall of the Pecksniflfian
work-room, and decided with uncommon indignation that they
were gross libels, and not half pretty enough ; though, as hath
been mentioned in its place, the artists always made those
sketches beautiful, and he had drawn at least a score of them
with his own hands.

" Tom," he said, as they were walking along, " I begin to
think you must be somebody's son."

" 1 suppose I am," Tom answered in his quiet way.
" But I mean somebody's of consequence."
" Bless your heart," replied Tom, " my poor father was of
no consequence, nor my mother either."
" You remember them perfectly, then ? "
" Remember them .-' oh dear yes. My poor mother was
the last. She died when Ruth was a mere baby, and then we
both became a charge upon the savings of that good old
grandmother I used to tell you of. You remember ! Oh !
There's nothing romantic in our historv, John."

" Very well," said John in quiet despair. " Then there
is no way of accounting for my visitor of this morning. So
we'll not try, Tom."

They did try, notwithstanding, and never left off tr}'ing
until they got to Austin Friars, where, in a very dark passage
on the first Hoor, oddly situated at the back of a house, across
some leads, they found a little blear-eyed glass door up in one
corner, with Mr. Fips painted on it in characters which were
meant to be transparent. There was also a wicked old side-
board hiding in the gloom hard by, meditating designs upon
the ribs of visitors ; and an old mat, worn into lattice work,
which, being useless as a mat (even if anybody could have
seen it, which was impossible), had for many years directed
its industry into another channel, and regularly tripped up
every one of Mr. Fips's clients.

Mr. Fips, hearing a violent concussion between a human
hat and his office door, was apprised, by the usual means of

6o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

communication, that somebody had come to call upon him,
and giving that somebody admission, observed that it was
" rather dark."

"Dark indeed," John whispered in Tom Pinch's ear.
" Not a bad place to dispose of a countryman in, I should
think, Tom."

Tom had been already turning over in his mind the possi-
bility of their having been tempted into that region to furnish
forth a pie ; but the sight of Mr, Fips, who was small and
spare, and looked peaceable, and wore black shorts and pow-
der, dispelled his doubts.

"Walk in," said Mr. Fips.

They walked in. And a mighty yellow-jaundiced little
office Mr. Fips had of it : with a great, black, sprawling splash
upon the floor in one corner, as if some old clerk had cut his
throat there, years ago, and had let out ink instead of blood.

" I have brought my friend Mr. Pinch, sir," said John
Westlock.

"Be pleased to sit," said Mr. Fips.

They occupied the two chairs, and Mr. Fips took the office
stool, from the stuffing whereof he drew forth a piece of
horse-hair of immense length, which he put into his mouth
with a great appearance of appetite.

He looked at Tom Pinch curiously, but with an entire
freedom from any such expression as could be reasonably con-
strued into an unusual display of interest. After a short silence,
during which Mr. Fips was so perfectly unembarrassed as to
render it manifest that he could have broken it sooner with-
out hesitation, if he had felt inclined to do so, he asked if Mr.
Westlock had made his offer fully known to Mr. Pinch.

John answered in the affirmative.

" And you think it worth your while, sir, do you ? " Mr,
Fips inquired of Tom.

" I think it a piece of great good fortune, sir," said Tom.
" I am exceedingly obliged to you for the offer."

" Not to me," said Mr. Fips. " I act upon instructions."

"To your friend, sir, then," said Tom. "To the gentle-
man with whom I am to engage, and whose confidence I shall
endeavor to deserve. When he knows me better, sir, I hope
he will not lose his good opinion of me. He will find me
punctual and vigilant, and anxious to do what is right. That
I think I can answer for, and so," looking towards him, "can
Mr. Wesdock."

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6og

" Most assuredly," said John.

Mr. Fips appeared to have some little difficulty in resum-
ing the conversation. To relieve himself, he took up the
wafer-stamp, and began stamping capital F's all over his
legs.

"The fact is," said Mr. Fips, "that my friend is not, at
this present moment, in town."

Tom's countenance fell ; for he thought this equivalent to
telling him that his appearance did not answer ; and that Fips
must look out for somel^ody else.

" When do you think he will be in town, sir," he asked.

"I can't say ; it's impossible to tell. I really have no idea.
But," said Fips, taking off a very deep impression of the
wafer-stamp upon the calf of his left leg, and looking steadily
at Tom, " I don't know that it's a matter of much conse-
quence."

Poor Tom inclined his head deferentially, but appeared to
doubt that.

" I say," repeated Mr. Fips, "that I don't know it's a mat-
ter of much consequence. The business lies entirely between
yourself and me, Mr. Pinch. With reference to your duties I
can set you going; and with reference to your salary, I can
pay it. Weekly," said Mr. Fips, putting down the wafer-stamp,
and looking at John Westlock and Tom Pinch by turns ;
" weekly ; in this office ; at any time between the hours of
four and live in the afternoon." As Mr. Fips said this, he
made up his face as if he were going to whistle. But he
didn't.

"You are very good," said Tom, whose countenance was
now suffused with pleasure : "and nothing can be more sat-
isfactory or straightforward. My attendance will be re-
Cjuired — "

" From half-past nine to four o'clock or so, I should say,"
interrupted Mr. Fips. " About that."

" I did not mean the hours of attendance," retorted Tom,
"which are light and easy, I am sure ; but the place."

"Oh, the place ! The place is in the Temple."

Tom was delighted.

"Perhaps," said Mr. Fips, "you would like to see the
place ? "

"Oh dear!" cried Tom. "T shall only be too glad to
consider myself engaged, if you will allow me ; without any
further reference to the place."

39

6 1 o MAJi TIN CIIUZZLE WIT.

" You may consider yourself engaged, by all means," said
Mr. Fips ; " you couldn't meet me at the Temple Gate in
Fleet Street, in an hour from this time, I suppose, could
you ? "

Certainly Tom could.

" Good," said Mr. Fips, rising. " Then I will show you
the place ; and you can begin your attendance to-morrow
morning. In an hour, therefore, I shall see you. You too,
Mr. Westlock "i Very good. Take care how you go. It's
rather dark."

With this remark, which seemed superfluous, he shut them
out upon the staircase, and they groped their way into the
street again.

The interview had done so little to remove the mystery in
which Tom's new engagement was involved, and had done so
much to thicken it, that neither could help smiling at the puz-
zled looks of the other. They agreed, however, that the intro-
duction of Tom to his new office and office companions could
hardly fail to throw a light upon the subject ; and therefore
postponed its further consideration until after the fulfilment of
the appointment they had made with Mr. Fips.

After looking at John Westlock's chambers, and devoting
a few spare minutes to the Boar's Head, they issued forth
again to the place of meeting. The time agreed upon, had
not quite come ; but Mr. Fips was already at the Temple Gate,
and expressed his satisfaction at their punctuality.

He led the way through sundry lanes and courts, into one
more quiet and more gloomy than the rest, and, singling out
a certain house, ascended a common staircase, taking from
his pocket, as he went, a bunch of rusty keys.^ Stopping be-
fore a door upon an upper story, which had nothing but a
yellow smear of paint where custom would have placed the
tenant's name, he began to beat the dust out of one of these
keys, very deliberately, upon the great broad hand-rail of the
balustrade.

"You had better have a little plug made," he said, looking
round at Tom, after blowing a shrill whistle into the barrel of
the key. " It's the only way of preventing them from getting
stopped up. You'll find the lock go the better, too, I dare
say, for a little oil."

Tom thanked him ; but was too much occupied with his
own speculations, and John Westlock's looks, to be very
talkative. In the meantime, Mr. Fips opened the door, which

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 1 1

yielded to his hand very unwillingly, and with a horribly dis-
cordant sound. He took the key out, when he had done so,
and gave it to Tom.

" Ay, ay ! " said Mr. Fips. " The dust lies rather thick
here."

Truly, it did. Mr. Fips might have gone so far as to say,
very thick. It had accumulated everywhere ; lay deep on
everything ; and in one part, where a ray of sun shone through
a crevice in the shutter and struck upon the opposite wall, it
went twirling round and round, like a gigantic squirrel-cage.

Dust was the only thing in the place that had any motion
about it. When their conductor admitted the light freely, and
lifting up the heavy window-sash, let in the summer air, he
showed the mouldering furniture, discolored wainscoting and
ceiling, rusty stove, and ashy hearth, in all their inert neglect.
Close to the door, there stood a candlestick, with an extin-
guisher upon it ; as if the last man who had been there had
paused, after securing a retreat, to take a parting look at the
dreariness he left behind, and then had shut out light and life
together, and closed the place up like a tomb.

There were two rooms on that floor ; and in the first or
outer one a narrow staircase, leading to two more above.
These last were fitted up as bed-chambers. Neither in them,
nor in the rooms below, was any scarcity of convenient furni-
ture observable, although the fittings were of a by-gone fash-
ion ; but solitude and want of use seemed to have rendered it
unfit for any purposes of comfort, and to have given it a
grisly, haunted air.

Movables of every kind lay strewn about, without the
least attempt at order, and were intermixed with boxes, ham-
pers, and all sorts of lumber. On all the floors were piles of
books, to the amount, perhaps, of some thousands of volumes :
these, still in bales ; those, wrapped in paper, as they had
been purchased ; others scattered singly or in heaps : not one
upon the shelves which lined the walls. To these, Mr. Fips
called Tom's attention.

" Before anything else can be done, we must have them
put in order, catalogued, and ranged upon the book-shelves,
Mr. Pinch. That will do to begin with, I think, sir."

Tom rubbed his hands in the pleasant anticipation of a
task so congenial to his taste, and said :

" An occupation full of interest for me, I assure you. It
will occupy me, perhaps, until Mr. "

6 1 2 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" Until Mr. " repeated Fips ; as much as to ask Tom

what he was stopping for.

" I forgot that you had not mentioned the gentleman's
name," said Tom.

" Oh ! " cried Mr. Fips, pulling on his glove, " didn't I ?
No, by the bye, I don't think I did. Ah ! I dare say he'll be
here soon. You will get on very well together, I have no
doubt. I wish you success, I am sure. You won't- forget to
shut the door? It'll lock of itself if you slam it. Half-past
nine, you know. Let us say from half-past nine to four, or
half-past four, or thereabouts ; one day, perhaps, a little ear-
lier, another day, perhaps a little later, according as you feel
disposed, and as you arrange your work. Mr. Fips, Austin
Friars, of course you'll remember ? And you won't forget to
slam the door, if you please ? "

He said all this in such a comfortable, easy manner, that
Tom could only rub his hands, and nod his head, and smile
in acquiescence, which he was still doing, when Mr. Fips
walked coolly out.

" Why, he's gone ! " cried Tom.

"And what's more, Tom," said John Westlock, seating
himself upon a pile of books, and looking up at his astonished'
friend, " he is evidently not coming back again \ so here you
are, installed. Under rather singular circumstances, Tom ! "

It was such an odd affair throughout, and Tom standing
there among the books with his hat in one hand and the key
in the other, looked so prodigiously confounded, that his friend
could not help laughing heartily. Tom himself was tickled :
no less by the hilarity of his friend, than by the recollection
of the sudden manner in which he had been brought to a stop,
in the very height of his urbane conference with Mr. Fips ; so,
by degrees Tom burst out laughing too ; and each making the
other laugh more, they fairly roared.

When they had had their laugh out, which did not happen
very soon, for, give John an inch that way, and he was sure
to take several ells, being a jovial, good-tempered fellow, they
looked about them more closely, groping among the lumber
for any stray means of enlightenment that might turn up. But
no scrap or shred of information could they find. The books
were marked with a variety of owners' names, having, no
doubt, been bought at sales, and collected here and there at
different times ; but whether any one of these names belonged
to Tom's employer, and, if so, which of them, they had no

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

613

means whatever of determining. It occurred to John as a
very bright thought, to make inquiry at the steward's oflfice,
to whom the chambers belonged, or by wiiom they were held ;
but he came back no wiser than he went, the answer being,
" Mr. Fips, of Austin Friars ! "

" After all, Tom, I begin to think it lies no deeper than
this. Fips is an eccentric man ; has some knowledge of Peck-
sniff ; despises him, of course ; has heard or seen enough of
you to know that you are the man he wants ; and engages you
in his own whimsical manner."

" But why in his own whimsical manner .-' " asked Tom.

" Oh ! why does any man entertain his own whimsical
taste ? Why does Mr. Fips wear shorts and powder, and Mr.
Fips's next-door neighbor boots and a wig ? "

Tom, being in that state of mind in which any explanation
is a great relief, adopted this last one (which indeed was quite
as feasible as any other) readily, and said he had no doubt of
it. Nor was his faith at all shaken by his having said exactly
the same thing to each suggestion of his friend's, in turn, and
being perfectly ready to say it again if he had any new solu-
tion to propose.

As he had not, Tom drew down the window-sash, and
folded the shutter, and they left the rooms. He closed the
door heavily, as Mr. Fips had desired him • tried it, found
it all safe, and put the key in his pocket.

They made a pretty wide circuit in going back to Isling-
ton, as they had time to spare, and Tom was never tired of
looking about him. It was well he had John Westlock for his
companion, for most people would have been wear}^ of his
perpetual stoppages at shop-windows, and his frequent dashes
into the crowded carriage-way at the peril of his life, to get
the better view of church steeples, and other public buildings.
But John was charmed to see him so much interested, and
every time Tom came back with a beaming face from among
the wheels of carts and hackney-coaches, wholly unconscious
of the personal congratulations addressed to him by the
drivers, John seemed to like him better than before.

There was no flour on Ruth's hands when she received
them in the triangular parlor, but there were pleasant smiles
upon her face, and a crowd of welcomes shining out of every
smile, and gleaming in her bright eyes. By the bye, how bright
they were ! Looking into tiiem for but a moment, when )'ou
took her hand, you saw, in each, such a capital miniature of

6i4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

yourself, representing you as such a restless, flashing, eager,
brilliant little fellow —

Ah ! if you could only have kept them for your own minia-
ture ! But wicked, roving, restless, too impartial eyes, it was
enough for any one to stand before them, and straightway,
there he danced and sparkled quite as merrily as you !

The table was already spread for dinner; and though it
was spread with nothing very choice in the way of glass or
linen, and with green-handled knives, and very mountebanks
of two-pronged forks, which seemed to be trying how far
asunder they could possibly stretch their legs, without con-
verting themselves into double the number of iron toothpicks,
it wanted neither damask, silver, gold, nor china — no, nor any
other garniture at all. There it was — and being there, noth-
ing else would have done as well.

The success of that initiative dish — that first experiment
of hers in cookery — was so entire, so unalloyed and perfect,
that John Westlock and Tom agreed she must have been
studying the art in secret for a long time past, and urged her
to make a full confession of the fact. They were exceedingly
merry over this jest, and many smart things were said con-
cerning it ; but John was not as fair in his behavior as might
have been expected, for, after luring Tom Pinch on, for a long
time, he suddenly went over to the enemy, and swore to every-
thing his sister said. However, as Tom observed the same
night before going to bed, it was only in joke, and John had
always been famous for being polite to ladies, even when he
was quite a boy. Ruth said, " Oh ! indeed ! " She didn't
say anything else.

It is astonishing how much three people may find to talk
about. They scarcely left oft" talking once. And it was not
all lively chat which occupied them ; for, when Tom related
how he had seen Mr. Pecksniff's daughters, and what a
change had fallen on the younger, they were very serious.

John Westlock became quite absorbed in her fortunes ;
asking many questions of Tom Pinch about her marriage, in-
quiring whether her husband was the gentleman whom Tom
had brought to dine with him at Salisbury ; in what degree
of relationship they stood towards each other, being different
persons ; and taking, in short, the greatest interest in the sub-
ject. Tom then went into it at full length ; he told how
Martin had gone abroad, and had not been heard of for a
long time ; how Dragon Mark had borne him company ; how

MA R TLY CHUZZLE WIT. 6 1 ^

Mr , Pecksniff had got the poor old doting grandfather into
his power ; and how he basely sought the hand of Mary
Graham. But, not a word said Tom of what lay hidden in
his heart ; his heart, so deep, and true, and full of honor, and
yet with so much room for every gentle and unselfish thought :
not a word.

Tom, Tom ! The man in all this world most confident in
his sagacity and shrewdness ; the man in all this world most
proud of his distrust of other men, and having most to show
in gold and silver as the gains belonging to his creed ; the
meekest favorer of that wise doctrine, Every man for himself,
and God for us all (there being high wisdom in the thought
that the Eternal Majesty of Heaven ever was, or can be, on
the side of selfish lust and love !) ; shall never find, oh, never
find, be sure of that, the time come home to him, when all his
wisdom is an idiot's folly, weighed against a simple heart !

Well, well, Tom, it was simple too, though simple in a dif-
ferent way, to be so eager touching that same theatre, of
which John said, when tea was done, he had the absolute
command, so far as taking parties in without the payment of
a sixpence, was concerned ; and simpler yet, perhaps, never
to suspect that when he went in first, alone, he paid the
money ! Simple in thee, dear Tom, to laugh and ciy so
heartily, at such a sorry show, so poorly shown ; simple, to
be so happy and loquacious trudging home with Ruth ; sim-
ple, to be so surprised to find that merry present of a cook-
ery-book, waiting her in the parlor next morning, with the
beef-steak-pudding-leaf turned down, and blotted out. There !
Let the record stand ! Thy quality of soul was simple, sim-
ple ; quite contemptible, Tom Pinch !

CHAPTER XL.

THE PINCHES MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE, AND HAVE FRESH
OCCASION FOR SURPRISE AND WONDER.

There was a ghostly air about these uninhabited cham-
bers in the Temple, and attending ever}^ circumstance of
Tom's employment there, which had a strange charm in it.
Every morning when he shut his door at Islington, he turned

6 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

his face towards an atmosphere of unaccountable fascination,
as surely as he turned it to the London smoke ; and from
that moment, it thickened round and round him all day long,
until the time arrived for going home again, and leaving it,
like a motionless cloud, behind.

It seemed to Tom, every morning, that he approached this
ghostly mist, and became enveloped in it, by the easiest suc-
cession of degrees imaginable. Passing from the roar and
rattle of the streets nito the quiet court-yards of the Temple,
was the first preparation. Every echo of his footsteps sound-
ed to him like a sound from the old walls and pavements,
wanting language to relate the histories of the dim, dismal
rooms ; to tell him what lost documents were decaying in
forgotten corners of the shut-up cellars, from whose lattices
such mouldy signs came breathing forth as he went past ; to
whisper of dark bins of rare old wine, bricked up in vaults
among the old foundations of the Halls ; or mutter in a lower
tone yet darker legends of the cross-legged knights, whose
marble effigies were in the church. With the first planting of
his foot upon the staircase of his dusty office, all these mys-
teries increased ; until, ascending step by step, as Tom as-
cended, they attained their full growth in the solitary labors
of the day.

Every day brought one recurring, never-failing source of
speculation. This employer ; would he come to-day, and what
would he be like ? For Tom could not stop short at Mr.
Fips ; he quite believed that Mr. Fips had spoken truly, when
he said he acted for another ; and what manner of man that
other was, became a full-blown flower of wonder in the garden
of Tom's fancy, which never faded or got trodden down.

At one time, he conceived that Mr. Pecksniff, repenting
of his falsehood, might, by exertion of his influence with some
third person, have devised these means of giving him employ-
ment. He found this idea so insupportable after what had
taken place between that good man and himself, that he con-
fided it to John Westlock on the very same day ; informing
John that he would rather ply for hire as a porter, than fall
so low in his own esteem as to accept the smallest obligation
from the hands of Mr. Pecksniff. But John assured him that
he (Tom Pinch) was far from doing justice to the character
of Mr. Pecksniff yet, if he supposed that gentleman capable
of performing a generous action ; and that he might make his
mind quite easy on that head, until he saw the sun turn green

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 617

and the moon black, and at the same time distinctly perceived
with the naked eye, twelve first-rate comets careering round
those planets. In which unusual state of things, he said (and
not before), it might become not absolutely lunatic to suspect
Mr. Pecksniff of anything so monstrous. In short he laughed
the idea down, completely ; and Tom, abandoning it, w^as
thrown upon his beam-ends again, for some other solution.

In the meantime Tom attended to his duties daily, and
made considerable progress with the books, which were
already reduced to some sort of order, and made a great
appearance in his fairly-written catalogue. During his busi-
ness hours, he indulged himself occasionally with snatches of
reading ; which were often, indeed, a necessary part of his
pursuit ; and as he usually made bold to cany one of these
goblin volumes home at night (always bringing it back again
next morning, in case his strange employer should appear and
ask what had become of it), he led a happy, quiet, studious
kind of life, after his own heart.

But, though the books were never so interesting, and never
so full of novelty to Tom, they could not so enchain him, in
those mysterious chambers, as to render him unconscious, for
a moment, of the lightest sound. Any footstep on the flags
without, set him listening attentively, and when it turned into
that house, and came up, up, up, the stairs, he always thought
with a beating heart, " Now I am coming face to face with
him, at last ! " But no footstep ever passed the floor immedi-
ately below, except his own.

This mystery and loneliness engendered fancies in Tom's
mind, the folly of which his common sense could readily dis-
cover, but which his common sense was quite unable to keep
away, notwithstanding ; that quality being with most of us, in
such a case, like the old French Police — quick at detection,
but very weak as a preventive power. Misgi\-ings, undefined,
absurd, inexplicable, that there was some one hiding in the
inner room — walking softly over head, peeping in through the
door-chink, doing something stealthy, anywhere where he was
not — came over him a hundred times a clay, making it pleas-
ant to throw up the sash, and hold communication even with
the sparrows who had built in the roof and water spout, and
were twittering about the windows all day long.

He sat with the outer door wide open, at all times, that he
might hear the footsteps as they entered, and turned off into
the chambers on the lower floor. He formed odd preposses-

6i8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,

sions too, regarding strangers in the streets ; and would say
within himself of such or such a man, who struck him as hav-
ing anything vuicommon in his dress or aspect, " I shouldn't
wonder, now, if that were he ! " But it never was. And
though he actually turned back and followed more than one
of these suspected individuals, in a singular belief that they
were going to the place he was then upon his way from, he
never got any other satisfaction by it, than the satisfaction of
knowing it was not the case.

Mr. Fips, of Austin Friars, rather deepened than illumined
the obscurity of his position ; for, on the first occasion of
Tom's waiting on him to receive his weekly pay, he said :

" Oh ! by the bye, Mr. Pinch, you needn't mention it, if you
please ! "

Tom thought he was going to tell him a secret ; so he said
that he wouldn't on any account, and that Mr. Fips might
entirely depend upon him. But as Mr. Fips said " Very good,"
in reply, and nothing more, Tom prompted him :

" Not on any account," repeated Tom.

Mr. Fips repeated " Very good."

" You were going to say " — Tom hinted.

" Oh dear no ! " cried Fips. " Not at all." — However, see-
ing Tom confused, he added, " I mean that you needn't men-
tion any particulars about your place of employment, to people
generally. You'll find it better not."

" I have not had the pleasure of seeing my employer yet,
sir," observed Tom, putting his week's salary in his pocket.

" Haven't you ? " said Fips. " No, I don't suppose you
have though."

" I should like to thank him, and to know that what I have
done so far, is done to his satisfaction," faltered Tom.

" Quite right," said Mr. Fips, with a yawn. " Highly
creditable. Ver}^ proper."

Tom hastily resolved to Xxy him on another tack.

" I shall soon have finished, with the books," he said. " I
hope that will not terminate my engagement, sir, or render me
useless ? "

" Oh dear no ! " retorted Fips. " Plenty to do — plen-ty to
do ! Be careful how you go. It's rather dark."

This was the very utmost extent of information Tom could
ever get out of him. So, it was dark enough in all conscience ;
and if Mr. Fips expressed himself with a double meaning, he
had good reason for doing so.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 619

But now a circumstance occurred, which helped to divert
Tom's thoughts from even this mystery, and to divide them be-
tween it and a new channel, which was a very Nile in itself.

The way it came about was this. Having always been an
early riser, and having now no organ to engage him in sweet
converse every morning, it was his habit to take a long
walk before going to the Temple ; and naturally inclining, as
a stranger, towards those parts of the town which were con-
spicuous for the life and animation pervading them, he became
a great frequenter of the market-places, bridges, quays, and
especially the steamboat wharves ; for it was very li\ely and
fresh to see the people hurrying away upon their many
schemes of business or pleasure, and it made Tom glad to
think that there was that much change and freedom in the
monotonous routine of city lives.

In most of these morning excursions Ruth accompanied
him. As their landlord was always up and away at his busi-
ness (whatever that might be, no one seemed to know) at a
very early hour, the habits of the people of the house in which
they lodged corresponded with their own. Thus, they had often
finished their breakfast, and were out in the summer-air, by
seven o'clock. After a two hours' stroll they parted at some
convenient point, Tom going to the Temple, and his sister
returning home, as methodically as you please.

Many and many a pleasant stroll they had in Covent-Gar-
den Market, snuffing up the perfume of the fruits and flow-
ers, wondering at the magnificence of the pine-apples and
melons ; catching glimpses down the side avenues, of rows
and rows of old women, seated on inverted baskets shelling
peas ; looking unutterable things at the fat bundles of aspara-
gus with which the dainty shops were fortified as with a breast-
work ; and, at the herbalists' doors, gratefully inhaling scents
as of veal-stufiing yet uncooked, dreamily mixed up with cap-
sicums, brown-paper, seeds — even with hints of lusty snails
and fine young curly leeches. Many and many a pleasant
stroll they had among the poultry markets, where ducks and
fowls, with necks unnaturally long, lay stretched out in pairs,
ready for cooking ; where there were speckled eggs in mossy
baskets, white country sausages beyond impeachment by sur-
viving cat or dog, or horse or donkey, new cheeses to any
wild extent, live birds in coops and cages, looking much too
big to be natural, in consequence of those receptacles being
much too little ; rabbits, alive and dead, innumerable. Many

62 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

a pleasant stroll they had among the cool, refreshing, silvery
fish-stalls, with a kind of moonlight effect about their stock in
trade, excepting always for the ruddy lobsters. Many a pleas-
ant stroll among the wagon-loads of fragrant hay, beneath
which dogs and tired wagoners lay fast asleep, oblivious of
the pieman and the public-house. But, never half so good a
stroll as down among the steamboats on a bright morning.

There they lay, alongside of each other ; hard and fast for
ever, to all appearance, but designing to get out somehow,
and quite confident of doing it ; and in that faith shoals of
passengers, and heaps of luggage, were proceeding hurriedly
on board. Little steamboats dashed up and down the stream
incessantly. Tiers upon tiers of vessels, scores of masts, laby-
rinths of tackle, idle sails, splashing oars, gliding row-boats,
lumbering barges, sunken piles, with ugly lodgings for the
water-rat within their mud-discolored nooks ; church steeples,
warehouses, house-roofs, arches, bridges, men and women,
children, casks, cranes, boxes, horses, coaches, idlers, and hard-
laborers : there they were, all jumbled up together, any sum-
mer morning, far beyond Tom's power of separation.

In the midst of all this turmoil, there was an incessant roar
from every packet's funnel, which quite expressed and carried
out the uppermost emotion of the scene. They all appeared
to be perspiring and bothering themselves, exactly as their
passengers did ; they never left off fretting and chafing, in
their own hoarse manner, once ; but were always panting
out, without any stops, "Come along do make haste I'm very
nervous come along oh good gracious we shall never get there
how late you are do make haste I'm off directly come along ! "
Even when they had let off, and had got safely out into the
current, on the smallest provocation they began again ; for
the bravest packet of them all, being stopped by some en-
tanglement in the river, would immediately begin to fume and
pant afresh, " Oh here's a stoppage what's the matter do go
on there I'm in a hurr)* it's done on purpose did you e\-er oh
my goodness do go on there ! " and so, in a state of mind bor-
dering on distraction, would be last seen drifting slowly through
the mist into the summer light beyond, that made it red.

Tom's ship, however ; or, at least, the packet-boat in which
Tom and his sister took the greatest interest on one particu-
lar occasion, was not off yet, by any means ; but was at the
height of its disorder. The press of passengers was very
great ; another steamboat lay on each side of her ; the gang-

i

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 62 1

ways were choked up ; distracted women, obviously bound for
Gravesend, but turning a deaf ear to all represencations that
this particular vessel was about to sail for Antwerp, persisted
in secreting baskets of refreshments behind bulk-heads and
water-casks, and under seats ; and very great confusion pre-
vailed.

It was so amusing, that Tom, with Ruth upon his arm,
stood looking down from the wharf, as nearly regardless as it
was in the nature of flesh and blood to be, of an elderly lady
behind him, who had brought a large umbrella with her, and
didn't know what to do with it. This tremendous instrument
had a hooked handle ; and its' vicinity was first made known
to him by a painful pressure on the windpipe, consequent upon
its havinsf caucrht him round the throat. Soon after disen-
gaging himself with perfect good humor, he had a sensation of
the ferule in his back ; immediately afterwards, of the hook
entangling his ankles ; then of the umbrella generally, wan-
dering about his hat, and flapping at it like a great bird ; and
lastly, of a poke or thrust below the ribs, which gave him
such exceeding anguish, that he could not refrain from turning
round to offer a mild remonstrance.

Upon his turning round, he found the owner of the um-
brella struggling on tiptoe, with a countenance expressive of
violent animosity, to look down upon the steamboats ; from
which he inferred that she had attacked him, standing in the
front row, by design and as her natural enemy.

" What a very ill-natured person you must be ! " said Tom.

The lady cried out fiercely, " Where's the pelisse ! " mean-
ing the constabulary — and went on to say, shaking the handle
of the umbrella at Tom, that but for them fellers never being
in the way when they was wanted, she'd have given him in
charge, she would.

" If they greased their whiskers less, and minded the
duties which they're paid so heavy for, a little more," she ob-
served, "no one needn't be dro\e mad by scrouding so ! "

She had been grievously knocked about^ no doubt, for her
bonnet was bent into the shape of a cocked hat. Being a fat
little woman, too, she was in a state of great exhaustion and
intense iieat. Instead of pursuing the altercation, therefore,
Tom civilly inquired what boat she wanted to go on board of ?

" I suppose," returned the lady, " as nobody but yourself
can want to look at a steam ])ackage, without wanting to go a
boarding of it, can they ! Booby ! "

62 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT.

" Which one do you want to look at then ? " said Tom.
"We'll make room for you if we can. Don't be so ill-tem-
pered."

" No blessed creetur as ever I was with in tr)'ing times," re-
turned the lady, somewhat softened, " and they're a many in
their numbers, ever brought it as a charge again myself that I
was anythin' but mild and equal in my spirits. Never mind
a contradicting of me, if you seem to feel it does you good,
ma'am, I often says, for well you know that Sairey may be
trusted not to give it back again. But I will not ' denige that
I am worrited and wexed this day, and with good reagion,
Lord forbid ! "

By this time, Mrs. Gamp (for it was no other than that ex-
perienced practitioner) had, with Tom's assistance, squeezed
and worked herself into a small corner between Ruth and the
rail ; where, after breathing very hard for some little time, and
performing a short series of dangerous evolutions with her um-
brella, she managed to establish herself pretty comfortably.

" And which of all them smoking monsters is the Ank-
works boat, I wonder. Goodness me ! " cried Mrs. Gamp.

" What boat did you want ? " asked Ruth.

" The Ankworks package," Mrs. Gamp replied. " I will
not deceive you, my sweet. Why should I .'' "

"That is the Antwerp packet in the middle," said Ruth.

" And I wish it was in Jonadge's belly, I do," cried Mrs.
Gamp ; appearing to confound the prophet with the whale in
this miraculous aspiration.

Ruth said nothing in reply ; but, as Mrs. Gamp, laying her
chin against the cool iron of the rail, continued to look intently
at the Antwerp boat, and every now and then to give a little
groan, she inquired whether any child of hers was going
abroad that morning ? Or perhaps her husband, she said
kindly.

" Which shows," said Mrs. Gamp, casting up her eyes,
" what a little way you've travelled into this wale of life, my
dear young creetur ! As a good friend of mine has frequent
made remark to me, which her name, my love, is Harris, Mrs.
Harris through square and up the steps a turnin' round by the
tobacker shop, ' Oh Sairey, Sairey, little do we know wot
lays afore us ! ' ' Mrs. Harris, ma'am,' I says, ' not much, it's
true, but more than you suppoge. Our calcilations, ma'am,'
I says, ' respectin' wot the number of a family will be, comes
most times within one, and oftener than you would suppoge,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

623

exact.' ' Sairey,' says Mrs. Harris, in a awful way, * Tell me
wot. is my indiwidgle number.' ' No, Mrs. Harris,' I says to
her, 'ex-cuge me, if you please. My own,' I says, ' has fallen
out of three-pair backs, and had damp doorsteps settled on
their lungs, and one was turned up smilin' in a bedstead, un-
beknown. Therefore ma'am,' I says, ' seek not to proticipate,
but take 'em as they come and as they go.' Mine," said Mrs.
Gamp, " mine is all gone, my dear young chick. And as to
husbands, there's a wooden leg irone likewavs home to its ac-
count, which in its constancy of walkin' into wine vaults, and
never comin' out again 'till fetched by force, was quite as
weak as flesh, if not weaker."

When she had delivered this oration, Mrs. Gamp leaned
her chin upon the cool iron again ; and looking intently at
the Antwerp packet, shook her head and groaned.

" I wouldn't," said Mrs. Gamp, " I wouldn't be a man and
have such a think upon my mind ! — but nobody as owned the
name of man, could do it ! "

Tom and his sister glanced at each other ; and I^.uth, after
a moment's hesitation, asked Mrs. Gamp what troubled her
so much.

"My dear," returned that lady, dropping her voice, "you
are single, ain't you ? "

Ruth laughed, blushed, and said " Yes."

" Worse luck," proceeded Mrs. Gamp, " for all parties !
But others is married, and in the marriage state ; and there is
a dear young creetur a comin' down this mornin' to' that very
package, which is no more fit to trust herself to sea, than
nothin' is ! "

She paused here, to look over the deck of the packet in
question, and on the steps leading down to it, and on the
gangways. Seeming to have thus assured herself that the
object of her commiseration had not yet arrived, she raised
her eyes gradually up to the top of the escape-pipe, and in-
dignantly apostrophized the vessel :

"Oh drat you ! " said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her umbrella
at it, " you're a nice spluttering nisy monster for a delicate
young creetur to go and be a passinger by ; ain't vou ! You
never do no harm in that way, do you } With you hammering,
and roaring, and hissing, and lamp-iling, you brute ! 'I'hem
Confugion steamers," said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her umbrella
again, " has done more to throw us out of our reg'lar work
and bring ewents on at times when nobody counted on 'em

62 4 ^^'-^ ^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

(especially them screeching railroad ones), than all the other
frights that ever was took. I have heard of one young man,
a guard upon a railway, only three years opened — well does
Mrs. Harris know him, which indeed he is her own relation
by her sister's marriage with a master sawyer — as is godfather
at this present time to six-and-twenty blessed little strangers,
equally unexpected, and all on 'um named after the In-
geins as was the cause. Ugh ! " said Mrs. Gamp, resuming
her apostrophe, " one might easy know you was a man's in-
vention, from your disregardlessness of the weakness of our
naturs, so one might, you brute ! "

It would not have been unnatural to suppose, from the
first part of Mrs. Gamp's lamentations, that she was con-
nected with the stage-coaching or post-horsing trade. She
had no means of judging of the effect of her concluding re-
marks upon her young companion ; for she interrupted her-
self at this point, and exclaimed :

" There she identically goes ! Poor sweet young creetur,
there she goes, like a lamb to the sacrifige ! If there's any
illness when that wessel gets to sea," said Mrs. Gamp, pro-
phetically, " it's murder, and I'm the witness for the persecu-
tion."

She was so very earnest on the subject, that Tom's sister
(being as kind as Tom himself), could not help saying some-
thing to her in reply.

" Pray which is the lady," she inquired, " in whom you
are so much interested? "

"There!" groaned Mrs. Gamp. "There she goes! A
crossin' the little wooden bridge at this minute. She's a
sJippin' on a bit of orange-peel ! " tightly clutching her um-
brella. " What a turn it give me ! "

" Do you mean the lady who is with that man wrapped up
from head to foot in a large cloak, so that his face is almost
hidden ? "

" Well he may hide it ? " Mrs. Gamp replied. He's good
call to be ashamed of himself. Did you see him a jerking of
her wrist, then ? "

" He seems to be hasty with her, indeed."

" Now he's a taking of her down into the close cabin ! "
said Mrs. Gamp, impatiently. "What's the man about ! The
deuce is in him I think. Why can't he leave her in the open
air .? "

He did not, whatever his reason was, but led her quickly

MA R TIN CHUZZLE JVI7.

625

down and disappeared himself, without loosening his cloak,
or pausing on the crowded deck one moment longer than was
necessary to clear their way to that part of the vessel.

Tom had not heard this dialogue ; for his attention had
been engaged in an unexpected manner. A hand upon his
sleeve had caused him to look round, just when Mrs. Gamp
concluded her apostrophe to the steam-engine ; and on his
right arm, Ruth being on his left, he found their landlord ; to
his great surprise.

He was not so much surprised at the man's being there,
as at his having got close to him so quietly and swiftly ; for
another person had been at his elbow one instant before ; and
he had not in the meantime been conscious of any change or
pressure in the knot of people among whom he stood. He
and Ruth had frequently remarked how noiselessly this land-
lord of theirs came into and went out of his own house ; but
Tom was not the less amazed to see him at his elbow now.

" I beg your pardon, Mr. Pinch," he said in his ear. " I
am rather infirm, and out of breath, and my eyes are not \ery
good. I am not as young as I was, sir. You don't see a
gentleman in a large cloak down yonder, with a lady on his
arm ; a lady in a veil and a black shawl ; do you ? "

If he did not, it was curious that in speaking he should
have singled out from all the crowd the very people whom he
described, and should have glanced hastily from them to Tom,
as if he were burning to direct his wandering eyes.

" A gentleman in a large cloak ! '' said Tom, " and a lady
in a black shawl ! Let me see ! "

" Yes, yes ! " replied the other, with keen impatience.
" A gentleman muffled up for such a morning as this — like an
invalid, with his hand to his face at this minute, perhaps.
No, no, no ! not there," he added, following Tom's gaze ; the
other way ; in that direction ; dow-n yonder." Again he in-
dicated, but this time in his hurry, with his outstretched finger,
the very spot on which the progress of these persons was
checked at that moment.

" There are so many people, and so much motion, and so
many objects," said Tom, " that I find it difhcult to — no, I
really don't see a gentleman in a large cloak, and a lady in a
black shawl. There's a lady in a red shawl over there."

" No, no, no ! " cried his landlord, pointing eagerly again,
" not there. The other way — the other way. Look at the
cabin steps. To the left. They must be near the cabin steps.

40

626 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Do you see the cabin steps ? There's the bell ringing already !
Do you see the steps ? "

" Stay ! " said Tom, " you're right. Look ! there they go
now. Is that the gentleman you mean } Descending at this
minute, with the folds of a great cloak trailing down after
him ->. "

" The very man ! " returned the other, not looking at what
Tom pointed out, however, but at Tom's own face. " Will
you do me a kindness, sir, a great kindness ? Will you put
that letter in his hand } Only give him that 1 He expects it.
I am charged to do it by my employers, but I am late in find-
ing him, and, not being as young as I have been, should never
be able to make my way on board and off the deck again in
time. Will you pardon my boldness, and do me that great
kindness .'"'

His hands shook, and his face bespoke the utmost interest
and agitation, as he pressed the letter upon Tom, and pointed
to its destination, like the Tempter in some grim old carving.

To hesitate in the performance of a good-natured or com-
passionate office, was not in Tom's way. He took the letter ;
whispered Ruth to wait till he returned, which would be im-
mediately ; and ran down the steps with all the expedition he
could make. There were so many people going down, so
many others coming up, such heavy goods in course of transit
to and fro, such a ringing of bells, blowing-ofif of steam, and
shouting of men's voices, that he had much ado to force his
way, or keep in mind to which boat he was going. But, he
reached the right one with good speed, and, going down the
cabin-stairs immediately, descried the object of his search
standing at the upper end of the saloon, with his back towards
him, reading some notice which was hung against the wall.
As Tom advanced to give him the letter, he started, hearing
footsteps, and turned round.

What was Tom's astonishment to find in him the man with
whom he had had the conflict in the field — poor Mercy's hus-
band. Jonas !

Tom understood him to say, what the devil did he want ;
but it was not easy to make out what he said ; he spoke so in-
distinctly.

" I want nothing with you for myself," said Tom ; " I was
asked, a moment since, to give you this letter. You were
pointed out to me, but I didn't know you in your strange dress.
Take it ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

627

He did so, opened it, and read the writing on the inside.
The contents were evidently very brief ; not more perhaps
than one line ; but they struck upon him like a stone from a
sling. He reeled back as he read.

His emotion was so different from any Tom had ever seen
before, that he stopped involuntarily. Momentar)' as his state
of indecision was, the bell ceased while he stood there, and a
hoarse voice calling down the steps, inquired if there was any
one to go ashore ?

"Yes," cried Jonas, "I — I am coming. Give me time.
Where's that woman ! come back ; come back here."

He threw open another door as he spoke, and dragged,
rather than led, her forth. She was pale and frightened, and
amazed to see her old acquaintance ; but had no time to
speak, for they were making a great stir above ; and Jonas
drew her rapidly towards the deck.

" Where are we going ? What is the matter ? "

"We are going back," said Jonas. " I have changed my
mind. I can't go. Don't question me, or I shall be the
death of you, or some one else. Stop there ! Stop ! We're
for the shore. Do you hear ? We're for the shore ! "

He turned, even in the madness of his hurr}', and scowl-
ing darkly back at Tom, shook his clenched hand at him.
There are not many human faces capable of the expression
with which he accompanied that gesture.

He dragged her up, and Tom followed them. Across the
deck, over the side, along the crazy plank, and up the steps,
he dragged her fiercely ; not bestowing any look on her, but
gazing upwards all the while among the faces on the wharf.
Suddenly he turned again, and said to Tom with a tremendous
oath :

" Where is he ? "

Before Tom, in his indignation and amazement, could re-
turn an answer to a question he so little understood, a gen-
tleman approached Tom behind, and saluted Jonas Chuzzle-
wit by name. He was a gentleman of foreign appearance,
with a black mustache and whiskers ; and addressed him
with a polite composure, strangely different from his own dis-
tracted and desperate manner.

" Chuzzlewit, my good fellow ! " said the gentleman, rais-
ing his hat in compliment to Mrs. Chuzzlewit, " I ask your
pardon twenty thousand times. I am most unwilling to inter-
fere between you and a domestic trip of this nature (always

628 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

SO very charming and refreshing, I know, although I have not
the happiness to be a domestic man myself, which is the great
infelicity of my existence) ; but the bee-hive, my dear friend,
the bee-hive — will you introduce me ? "

" This is Mr. Montague," said Jonas, whom the words ap-
peared to choke.

" The most unhappy and most penitent of men, Mrs. Chuz-
zlewit," pursued that gentleman, "for having been the means
of spoiling this excursion ; but as I tell my friend, the bee-
hive, the bee-hive. You projected a short little continental
trip, my dear friend, of course ? "

Jonas maintained a dogged silence.

" May I die," cried Montague, " but I am shocked ! Upon
my soul I am shocked. But that confounded bee-hive of ours
in the city must be paramount to every other consideration,
when there is honey to be made ; and that is my best excuse.
Here is a very singular old female dropping curtseys on my
right," said Montague, breaking off in his discourse, and look-
ing at Mrs. Gamp, " who is not a friend of mine. Does any-
body know her ? "

" Ah ! Well they knows me, bless their precious hearts ! "
said Mrs. Gamp, " not forgettin' your own merry one, sir, and
long may it be so ! Wishin' as every one " (she delivered
this in the form of a toast or sentiment) "was as merry, and
as handsome-looking, as a little bird has whispered me a cer-
tain gent is, which I will not name for fear I give offence
where none is doo ! My precious lady," here she stopped
short in her merriment, for she had until now affected to be
vastly entertained, "you're too pale by half ! "

" Yoii are here too, are you .'' " muttered Jonas. " Ecod,
there are enough of you."

"I hope, sir," returned Mrs. Gamp, dropping an indignant
curtsey, " as no bones is broke by me and Mrs. Harris a
walkin' down upon a public wharf. Which was the veiy words
she says to me (although they was the very last I ever had to
speak) was these: ' Sairey,' she says, 'is it a public wharf?'
'Mrs. Harris,' I makes answer, 'can you doubt it? You
have know'd me now, ma'am, eight and thirty year ; and did
you ever know me go, or wish to go, where I was not made
welcome, say the words.' 'No, Sairey,' Mrs. Harris says,
' contrairy quite.' And well she knows it too. I am but a
poor woman, but I've been sought arter, sir, though you may
not think it. I've been knocked up at all hours of the night,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

629

and warned out by a many landlords, in consequence of being
mistook for Fire, I goes out working for my bread, 'tis true,
but I maintains my indepency, with your kind leave, and which
I will till death. I has my feelins as a woman, sir, and I have
been a mother likeways ; but touch a pipkin as belongs to me,
or make the least remarks on what I eats or drinks, and
though you was the favoritest young for'ard hussy of a ser-
vant-gal as ever come into a house, either you leaves the place,
or me. My earnings is not great, sir, but I will not be impoged
upon. Bless the babe, and save the mother, is my mortar,
sir ; but I makes so free as add to that. Don't try no impogi-
cian with the Nuss, for she will not abear it ! "

Mrs. Gamp concluded by drawing her shawl tightly over
herself with both hands, and, as usual, referring to Mrs. Har-
ris for all corroboration of these particulars. She had that
peculiar trembling of the head, which, in ladies of her excitable
nature, may be taken as a sure indication of their breaking
out again very shortly ; when Jonas made a timely interposi-
tion.

" As you are here," he said, "you had better see to her,
and take her home. I am otherwise engaged." He said
nothmg more ; but looked at Montague as if to give him no-
tice that he was ready to attend him.

" I am sorry to take you away," said Montague.

Jonas gave him a sinister look, which long lived in Tom's
memory, and which he often recalled afterwards.

" I am, upon my life," said Montague. " Why did you
make it necessary'- .? "

With the same dark glance as before, Jonas replied, after
a moment's silence.

" The necessity is none of my making. You have brought
it about yourself."

He said nothing more. He said even this as if he were
bound, and in the other's power, but had a sullen and sup-
pressed devil within him, which he could not quite resist.
His very gait, as they walked away together, was like that of
a fettered man ; but, striving to work out at his clenched
hands, knitted brows, and fast-set lips, was the same im-
prisoned devil still.

They got into a handsome cabriolet, which was waiting for
them, and drove away.

The whole of this extraordinary' scene had passed so
rapidly, and the tumult which prevailed around was so

630

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

unconscious of any impression from it, that, although Tom
had been one of the chief actors, it was like a dream. No
one had noticed him after they had left the packet. He had
stood behind Jonas, and so near him, that he could not help
hearing all that passed. He had stood there, with his sister
on his arm, expecting and hoping to have an opportunity of
explaining his strange share in this yet stranger business.
But Jonas had not raised his eyes from the ground ; no one
else had even looked towards him ; and before he could
resolve on any course of action, they were all gone.

He gazed round for his landlord. But he had done that,
more than once already, and no such man was to be seen.
He was still pursuing this search with his eyes, when he saw
a hand beckoning to him from a hackney-coach ; and hurraing
towards it, found it was Merry's. She addressed him hurriedly,
but bent out of the window, that she might not be overheard
by her companion, Mrs. Gamp.

" What is it } " she said, " Good Heaven, what is it ? Why
did he tell me last night to prepare for a long journey, and
why have you brought us back like criminals ? Dear Mr.
Pinch ! " she clasped her hands distractedly, " be merciful to
us. Whatever this dreadful secret is, be merciful, and God
will bless you ! "

"If any power of mercy lay with me," cried Tom, "trust
me, you shouldn't ask in vain. But I am far more ignorant
and weak than you."

She withdrew into the coach again, and he saw the hand
waving towards him for a moment ; but whether in reproach-
fulness or incredulity, or misery, or grief, or sad adieu, or
what else, he could not, being so hurried, understand. She
was gone now ; and Ruth and he were. left to walk away, and
wonder.

Had Mr, Nadgett appointed the man who never came, to
meet him upon London Bridge that morning ? He was
certainly looking over the parapet, and down upon the steam-
boat wharf at that moment. It could not have been for
pleasure ; he never took pleasure. No. He must have had
some business there.

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 63 1

CHAPTER XLI.

MR. JONAS AND HIS FRIEND, ARRIVING AT A PLEASANT UNDER-
STANDING, SET FORTH UPON AN ENTERPRISE.

The office of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and
Life Assurance Company being near at hand, and Mr. Mon-
tague driving Jonas straight there, they had very little way to
go. But, the journey might have been one of several hours'
duration, without provoking a remark from either ; for it was
clear that Jonas did not mean to break the silence which pre-
vailed between them, and that it was not, as yet, his dear
friend's cue to tempt him into conversation.

He had thrown aside his cloak, as having now no motive
for concealment, and with that garment huddled on his knees,
sat as far removed from his companion as the limited space
in such a carriage would allow. There was a striking
difference in his manner, compared with what it had been,
within a few minutes, when Tom encountered him so unex-
pectedly on board the packet, or when the ugly change had
fallen on him in Mr. Montague's dressing-room. He had the
aspect of a man found out, and held at bay ; of being baffled,
hunted, and beset ; but there was now a dawning and
increasing purpose in his face, which changed it very much.
It was gloomy, distrustful, lowering ; pale with anger, and
defeat ; it still was humbled, abject, cowardly, and mean ; but
let the conflict go on as it would, there was one strong purpose
wrestling with every emotion of his mind, and casting the
whole series down as they arose.

Not prepossessing in appearance, at the best of times, it
may readily be supposed that he was not so now. He had
left deep marks of his front teeth in his nether lip ; and those
tokens of the agitation he had lately undergone, improved his
looks as little as the heavy corrugations in his forehead. But
he was self-possessed now ; unnaturally self-possessed, indeed,
as men quite otherwise than brave are known to be in
desperate extremities ; and when the carriage stopped, he
waited for no invitation, but leapt hardily out, and went up
stairs.

The chairman followed him ; and closing the board-room

632

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

door as soon as they had entered, threw himself upon a sofa.
Jonas stood before the window, looking down into the street ;
and leaned against the sash, resting his head upon his arms.

"This is not handsome, Chuzzlewit !" said Montague at
length. " Not handsome, upon my soul ! "

" What would you have me do ? " he answered, looking
round abruptly ; "what do you expect? "

" Confidence, my good fellow. Some confidence ! " said
Montague, in an injured tone.

"Ecod! You show great confidence in me," retorted
Jonas. " Don't you ? "

" Do I not ? " said his companion, raising his head, and
looking at him, but he had turned again. " Do I not ? Have
I not confided to you the easy schemes I have formed for
our advantage ; our advantage, mind ; not mine alone ; and
what is my return .-' Attempted flight ! "

" How do you know that ? Who said I meant to fly ! "

" Who said ! Come, come. A foreign boat, my friend,
an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise ! Who said ?
If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there ? If you
didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back .-' "

"I came back," said Jonas, "to avoid disturbance."

" You were wise," rejoined his friend.

Jonas stood quite silent ; still looking down into the street,
and resting his head upon his arms.

" Now, Chuzzlewit," said Montague, " notwithstanding
what has passed, I will be plain with you. Are you attending
to me there ? I only see your back."

"/hear you. Goon."

" I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain
with you."

" You said that before. And I have told you once, I
heard you say it. Go on."

" You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for
that, and am, fortunately myself in the very best of tempers.
Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago,
I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had
discovered "

" Will you hold your tongue ? " said Jonas, looking fiercely
round, and glancing at the door.

" Well, well ! " said Montague. " Judicious ! Quite cor-
rect ! My discoveries being published, would be like many
other men's discoveries in this honest world ; of no further use

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 633

to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in
showing you the weakness of my own position ! To return. I
make, or think I make, a certain discovery, which I take an
early opportunity in mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of
confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and
was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it ;
perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion
on the subject. You have yours. VVe will not discuss tlie
question. But, my good fellow, you have been v.'cak ; what I
wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may
desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do —
I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or
using it against you."

"What do you call using it against me?" asked Jonas,
who had not yet changed his attitude.

" Oh ! " said Montague, with a laugh. " We'll not enter
into that."

" Using it. to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you
mean ? "

" No."

" Ecod," muttered Jonas, bitterly. " That's the use in
which your account docs lie. You speak the truth there."

" I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little
more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet," said Montague.
" You promised me you would ; and you must. I say it
plainly, Chuzzlewit, you must. Reason the matter. If you
don't, my secret is worthless to me ; and being so, it may as well
become the public property as mine : better, for I shall gain
some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act
as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't
mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care
nothing for any man ; you are too sharp ; so am I, I hope) ;
and could bear any loss of his, with pious fortitude. Ha, ha,
ha ! You have tried to escape from the first consequence.
You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that
to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not
the least in the world affected by anything you may have done
by any little indiscretion you may have committed ; but I wish
to profit by it, if I can ; and to a man of your intelligence I
make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that
infirmity. Ever}'body profits by the indiscretion of his neigh-
bor ; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do
you give me this trouble ? It must come to a friendly agree-

634 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ment, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you

are very little hurt. If the latter — well ! you know best what
is likely to happen then."

Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He
did not look him in the face ; it was not his habit to do that ;
but he kept his eyes towards him — on his breast, or there-
abouts— and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly,
in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness
might be.

" Lying is of no use, now," he said. " I did think of get-
ting away this morning, and making better terms with you
from a distance."

" To be sure ! To be sure ! " replied Montague. " Noth-
ing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it.
But I am afraid I am interrupting you."

"How the devil," pursued Jonas, with a still greater
effort, " you made choice of your messenger, and where you
found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn be-
fore to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you
said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what be-
comes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to
settle my account with him in my own manner."

If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would
have seen that Montague was evidently unable to compre-
hend his meaning. But, continuing to stand before him,
with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here,
only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost
upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this
fixed and steady glance of Jonas's, was a part of the altera-
tion which had taken place in his demeanor. He kept it
riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly
nothing to do ; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to
any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady
him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip.

Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it
at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between
him and his friend on that point. Not the least.

" Your great discovery," Jonas proceeded, with a savage
sneer that got the better of him for a moment, " may be true,
and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse
than other men."

" Not a bit," said Tigg. " Not a bit. We're all alike—
or nearly so."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 635

" I want to know this," Jonas went on to say ; " is it your
own ? You'll not wonder at my asking the question."

" My own ! " repeated Montague.

" Ay ! " returned the other, gruffly. " Is it known to
anybody else? Come ! Don't waver about that."

"No!" said Montague, without the smallest hesitation.
" What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the
keeping of it ? "

Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a
pause he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh :

" Come ! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't
know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had
gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay
now. Take vour oath ! "

He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely, and
said in a lighter tone : —

" Shall I go to Pecksniff ! When ? Say when ! "

" Immediately ! " cried Montague. " He cannot be en-
ticed too soon."

" Ecod ! " cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. "There's some
fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go
to-night t "

"Ay! This," said Montague, ecstatically, "is like
business ! We understand each other now ? To-night, my
good fellow, by all means."

" Come with me," cried Jonas. " We must make a dash :
go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to
deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll
not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or
your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-
night .? "

His friend appeared to hesitate ; and neither to have an-
ticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much.

" We can concert our plans upon the road," said Jonas.
" We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some
other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not
want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I
know the man, I tell you."

" But, what if the man knows me ? " said Montague,
shrugging his shoulders.

" He know ! " cried Jonas, " Don't you run that risk
with fifty men a day ! Would your father know you .'' Did /
know you ? Ecod ! you were another figure when I saw you

636 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

first. Ha, ha, ha ! I see the rents and patches now ! No
false hair then, no black dye ! You were another sort of joker,
in those days, you were ! You even spoke different, then.
You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've
taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it
matter ? Such a change is a proof of your success. You
know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me.
Will you come ? "

" My good fellow," said Montague, still hesitating, " I
can trust you alone."

" Trust me ! Ecod, you may trust me now far enough.
I'll try to go away no more — no more ! " He stopped, and
added in a more sober tone, " I can't get on without you.
Will you come ? "

" I will," said Montague, " if that's your opinion," and they
shook hands upon it.

The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during
the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on
rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken —
from the time when he looked his honorable friend in the
face until now — did not now subside, but, remaining at its
height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period ;
most inconsistent with his temper and constitution — especially
unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced ; it
abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any
ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made
him proof against the usual influence of such means of excite-
ment ; for, although he drank deeply several times that day,
with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same
man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observ-
able degree.

Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in
order that the day's business might not be broken in upon,
they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr.
Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at
all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust
into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling char-
iot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not
go home, observing, that his being obliged to leave town on
business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for hav-
ing turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote
a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who
duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 637

Other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to
be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this re-
quest he sent for answer, "she had better;" and one such
threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the
English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away.

Mr. Montague, being much engaged in the course of the
day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with
whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his
way thither, encountering Mr. Nadgett in the outer room, he
bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious
to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr.
Nadgett slyly answered, " No, but he believed it must be his
way, as he had been charged with much the same kind of
thing before."

Mr. Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater
elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was
gone, he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen,
and whispered in his ear,

" Who gave him my letter this morning ? "
" My lodger, sir," said Nadgett behind the palm of his
hand.

" How came that about ? "

" I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried,
and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It
fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself, I
could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon
immediately."

" Mr. Nadgett, you are a jewel," said Montague, patting
him on the back. " What's your lodger's name .'' "
"■ Pinch, sir. Mr. Thomas Pinch."
Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked :
" From the country, do you know ? "
" From Wiltshire, sir, he told me."

They parted without another word. To see Mr. Nadgett
bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr. Montague
acknowledge it anybody might have undertaken to swear that
they had never spoken to each other confldentially, in all their
lives.

In the meanwhile,Mr. Jonas and the doctor made themselves
very comfortable up stairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira, and
some sandwiches ; for the doctor having been already invited
to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch.
It was advisable, he said, in two points of view : first as be-

638

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ing healthy in itself. Secondly, as being the better preparar
tion for dinner.

" And you are bound for all of our sakes to take .a partic
ular care of your digestion, Mr. Chuzzlewit, my dear sir," said
the doctor, smacking his lips after a glass of wine ; " for de-
pend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must have been in
admirable condition, sir ; perfect chronometer-work. Other-
wise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's
lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as what's-
his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which
did anything like common justice to our profession, by the
bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a
low thing ; vulgar, sir ; out of nature altogether."

Mr. Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen as though
he would have said, "This is what I call nature in a medical
man, sir ; " and looked at Jonas for an observation.

Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject,
took up a case of lancets that were lying on the table and
opened it.

" Ah ! " said the doctor leaning back in his chair, " I
always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets
are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha ! "

Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments ; and
was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own
bright edge,

" Good steel, doctor. Good steel. Eh ? "

" Ye-es," replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of
ownership. " One might open a vein pretty dexterously with
that, Mr. Chuzzlewit."

" It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose ? "
said Jonas, looking at it with growing interest.

" Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged
in a — in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say," replied
the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so ver}' dry
and literal that he couldn't help it. In a pretty good practice,"
repeated the doctor putting another glass of wine to his lips.

" Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as
this? " demanded Jonas.

" Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,"
returned the doctor. " It all depends upon that."

" Where you have your hand now, hey ? " cried Jonas,
bending forward to look at it.

" Yes," said the doctor; " that's the jugular."

MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 639

Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so
close behind the doctor's jugular, that he turned quite red.
Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into
a loud discordant laugh.

" No, no," said the doctor, shaking his head : " edge tools,
edge tools ; never play with 'em. A veiy remarkable instance
of the skilful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at
this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was
a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession ;
it was so artistically done."

" Ay ! " said Jonas. "How was that ? "

" Why, sir," returned Jobling, " the thing lies in a nut-shell.
A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure
street, lying in an angle of a doorway — I should rather say,
leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and
supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat
there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead, and cold ;
and had been murdered, sir."

" Only one drop of blood ! " said Jonas.

" Sir, that man," replied the doctor, " had been stabbed
to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dex-
terity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally.
It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom sus-
picion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some
pretence ; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a con-
versational manner ; had examined his ground at leisure with
his other hand ; had marked the exact spot ; drawn out the
instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared ;
and "

" And done the trick," suggested Jonas.

" Exactly so," replied the doctor. " It was quite an opera-
tion in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never
turned up ; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it.
Whether he did it or not, I can't say. But, having had the
honor to be called in with two or three of my professional
brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a
careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in
saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man ;
and that in an unprofessional person, it could not but be con-
sidered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result
of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favorable conjunction
of circumstances."

His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the

640 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own
finger and thumb and waistcoat ; and at Jonas's request, he
took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room,
and alternately representing the murdered man and the mur-
derer ; which "^he did with great effect. The bottle being
emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same
boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If,
as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he
must have been a very ostrich.

At dinner, it was just the same ; and after dinner too ;
though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats
eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a
lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of
cards, and a bottle of wine \ and with these things under his
cloak, went down to the door.

" Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed ! "

This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr. Bailey, who,
booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage-door to help
him in.

" To bed, sir ! I'm a going, too," said Bailey.

He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where
Montague was lighting a cigar, conducting Mr. Bailey with
him, by the collar.

" You are not a going to take this monkey of a boy, are
you ? "

"Yes," said Montague.

He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside.
There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in any-
thing he had done that day; but he broke out laughing
immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor
with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical
friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His
companion followed immediately. Mr. Bailey climbed into
the rumble.

" It will be a stormy night ! " exclaimed the doctor, as
they started

MARTIN CFIUZZLEWIT. 645

CHAPTER XLII.

CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS

FRIEND.

The Doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather
was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient
of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion
on the case, the quick fulhhnent of his prophecy may be taken
as an instance of his professional tact ; for, unless the
threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and
unmistakable, Mr. Jobling would never have compromised
his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject.
He used this principle in Medicine with too much success, to
be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions.

It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at
windows, listening for the thunder which they know will
shortly break ; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes
and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and
lonely ships at seas, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed
and quivered on the black horizon even now ; and hollow
murmurinfrs were in the wind, as thou2;h it had been blowinsr
where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its ex-
hausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly,
had not yet come up ; and the prevailing stillness was the
more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover
in the air, of noise and conflict afar off.

It was very dark ; but in the murky sky there were masses
of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps
of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing
cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but
they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage
clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every
one, a knot of persons, who had conie there — many from
their houses close at hand, without hats — to look up at that
quarter of the sky. And now, a very few large drops of rain
began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Jonas sat in accruer of the carriage, with his bottle resting
on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand, as if he

41

642 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinct-
ively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of
cards upon the cushion ; and with the same involuntary im-
pulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a
remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the
lamp. The front glasses were down ; and they sat looking
silently out upon the gloomy scene before them.

They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers
can be, whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage
of that enormous city. Occasionally, they encountered a foot-
passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter ; or some
unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the
same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were
gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every way-
side tavern ; while their dri\'ers watched the weather from the
doors and open windows, or made merry witliin. Everywhere,
the people were disposed to bear each other company, rather
than sit alone ; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be
looking out upon the night and them, from almost eveiy house
they passed.

It may appear strange that this should have disturbed
Jonas, or rendered him uneasy : but it did. After muttering
to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the
blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder
sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion,
nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and
which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a
word to him.

The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed ; the rain poured
down, like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by
intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still
pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at
the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not ;
but ordered horses out, immediately. Nor had this any refer-
ence to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to
promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as
if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they
had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried
very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward
they must go.

Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the
myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky ; fier-cer and
brighter became the lightning ; more and more heavily the

MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT. 643

rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with
a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering
fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them ; but
there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were
led on by an invisible attraction.

The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light,
saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could
not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in
steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them ; ragged
nests of birds in cornices and nooks ; faces full of consternation
in the tilted wagons that came tearing past, their frightened
teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned ; har-
rows and ploughs left out infields ; miles upon miles of hedge-
divided countiy, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as
the scarecrow in the beanfield close at hand ; in a trembling,
vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain : then
came a flush of red into the yellow light ; a change to blue ;
a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light ,;
and then the deepest and profoundest darkness.

The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling, may
have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which
suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the
carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw
Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like
a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At
the same time he observed (or so believed), an expression in
his face — a combination of the unnatural excitement he had
shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear — which might have
rendered a wolf a less terrible companion.

He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the
driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed.

It could hardly have been as he supposed ; for although he
had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen
him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before.

" What's the matter ? " said Jonas. " Is that your general
way of waking out of your sleep .'' "

" I could swear," returned the other, " that I have not
closed my eyes ! "

"When you have sworn it," said Jonas, composedly, "we
had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that."

He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth ; and
putting it to his lips, took a long draught.

" I wish we had never started on this journey. This is

644

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

not," said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a
voice that betrayed his agitation, " this is not a night to travel
in."

" Ecod 1 you're right there," returned Jonas ; " and we
shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me
waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time ;
snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for t "

His companion put his head out of window for a moment,
and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of
anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin.

" Serve him right," said Jonas. " I'm glad of it. What
the devil are we stopping for ? Are you going to spread him
out to dry ? "

" I have half a mind to take him inside," observed the
other with some hesitation.

" Oh ! thankee ! " said Jonas. " We don't want any damp
boys here, especially a young imp like him. Let him be
where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning,
I dare say ; whoever else is. Go on, driver ! We had better
have ///w inside perhaps," he muttered with a laugh; "and
the horses ! "

"Don't go too fast," cried Montague to the postilion;
" and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch
when I called to you."

This was not true ; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they
moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of
what he said, but repeated that it was not anight for travelling,
and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually
anxious.

From this time, Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such
a term may be employed. to express the state in which he had
left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth ; roared
out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune
or voice, or anything but loud discordance ; and urged his
silent friend to be merry with him.

" You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,"
said Montague with an effort, " and in general irresistible ;
but to night — do you hear it ? "

"Ecod I hear\ind see to it too," cried Jonas, shading his
eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing,
not in any one direction, but all around them. "What of
that ? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus,
chorus.

MAKTIiV CHUZZLEWIT.

It m?y lighten and storm,

Till It hunt the red worm
From the i^jrass where tiie gibbet is driven ;

But )t cin't hurt the dead,

And It won't save the head
That is doom'd to be ntled and riven.

645

That must be a precious old song," he added with an oath, as
he stopped short in a kind of wonder at himself. " I haven't
heard it since I was a boy, and how it comes into my head
now, unless the lightning put it there, I don't know. ' Can't
hurt the dead ! ' No no. ' And won't save the head ! ' No no.
No ! Ha, ha, ha ! "

His mirth was of such a savage and extraordinary character,
and was, in an explicable way, at once so suited to the night,
and yet such a coarse intrusion on its terrors, that his fellow-
traveller, always a coward, shrunk from him in positive fear.
Instead of Jonas being his tool and instrument, their places
seemed to be reversed. But there was reason for this too,
Montague thought ; since the sense of his debasement might
naturally inspire such a man with the wish to assert a noisy
independence, and in that license to forget his real condition.
Being quick enough, in reference to such subjects of contem-
plation, he was not long in taking this argument into account,
and giving it its full weight. But, still, he felt a vague sense
of alarm, and was depressed and uneasy.

He was certain he had not been asleep ; but his eyes might
have deceived him ; for, looking at Jonas now in any interval
of darkness, he could represent his figure to himself in any
attitude his state of mind suggested. On the other hand, he
knew full well that Jonas had no reason to love him ; and
even taking the piece of pantomime which had so impressed
his mind to be a real gesture, and not the working of his fancy,
the most that could be said of it, was, that it was quite in keep-
ing with the rest of his diabolical fun, and had the same im-
potent expression of truth in it. " If he could kill me with a
wish," thought the swindler, " I should not live long."

He resolved, that when he should have had his use of
Jonas, he would restrain him with an iron curb ; in the mean-
time, that he could not do better than leave him to take his
own way, and preserve his own peculiar description of good-
humor, after his own uncommon manner. It was no great
sacrifice to bear with him : " for when all is got that can be
got," thought Montague, " I shall decamp across the water,
and have the laugh on my side — and the gains."

646 MARTIN CHUZZLEWn\

Such were his reflections from hour to hour ; his state of
mind being one in which the same thoughts constantly present
themselves over and over again in wearisome repetition ; while
Jonas, who appeared to have dismissed reflection altogether,
entertained himself as before. They agreed that they would
go to Salisbury, and would cross to Mr. Pecksniff's in the
morning j and at the prospect of deluding that worthy gentle-
man, the spirits of his amiable son-in-law became more bois-
terous than ever.

As the night wore on, the thunder died away, but still
rolled gloomily and mournfully in the distance. The lightning
too, though now comparatively harmless, was yet bright and
frequent. The rain was quite as violent as it had ever been.

It was their ill-fortune, at about the time of dawn and in
the last stage of their journey, to have a restive pair of horses.
These animals had been greatly terrified in their stable by the
tempest ; and coming out into the dreary interval between
night and morning, when the glare of the lightning was yet
unsubdued by day, and the various objects in their view
were presented in indistinct and exaggerated shapes which
they would not have worn by night, they gradually became
less and less capable of control ; until taking a sudden fright
at something by the roadside, they dashed off wildly ddwn a
steep hill, flung the driver from his saddle, drew the carriage
to the brink of a ditch, stumbled headlong down and threw it
crashing over.

The travellers had opened the carriage door, and had
either jumped or fallen out. Jonas was the first to stagger to
his feet. He felt sick and weak, and very giddy, and, reeling
to a five-barred gate, stood holding by it, looking drowsily
about, as the landscape swam before his eyes. But, by de-
grees, he grew more conscious, and presently observed that
Montague was lying senseless in the road, within a few feet of
the horses.

In an instant, as if his own faint body were suddenly ani-
mated by a demon, he ran to the horses' heads ; and pulling
at their bridles with all his force, set them struggling and
plunging with such mad violence as brought their hoofs at
every effort nearer to the skull of the prostrate man ; and
must have led in half a minute to his brains being dashed out
on the highway.

As he did this, he fought and contended with them like a
man possessed, making them wilder by his cries.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 647

" Whoop ! " cried Jonas. " Whoop ! again ! another !
A little more, a little more! Up, ye devils ! Hillo ! "

As he heard the driver who had risen and was hurrying
up, crying to him to desist, his violence increased.

" Hillo ! Hillo ! " cried Jonas.

" For God's sake ! " cried the driver. " The gentleman — •
in the road— he'll be killed !"

The same shouts and the same struggles were his only
answer. But the man darting in at the peril of his own life,
saved Montague's, by dragging him through the mire and
water out of the reach of present harm. That done, he ran
to Jonas ; and with the aid of his knife they very shortly dis-
engaged the horses from the broken chariot, and got them,
cut and bleeding, on their legs again. The postilion and
Jonas had now leisure to look at each other, which they had
not had yet.

" Presence of mind, presence of mind ! " cried Jonas,
throwing up his hands wildly. " What would you have done
without me ! "

" The other gentleman would have done badly without
me'' returned the man, shaking his head. " You should have
moved him first. I gave him up for dead."

" Presence of mind, you croaker, presence of mind ! " cried
Jonas, with a harsh loud laugh, " Was he struck, do you
think } "

They both turned to look at him. Jonas muttered some-
thing to himself, wlien he saw him sitting up beneath the
hedge, looking vacantly round.

" What's the matter 1 " asked Montague. " Is anybody
hurt ? "

" Ecod ! " said Jonas, " it don't seem so. There are no
bones broke, after all."

They raised him, and he tried to walk. He was a good
deal shaken, and trembled very much. I]ut with the excep-
tion of a few cuts and bruises this was all the damage he had
sustained.

"Cuts and bruises, eh?'' said Jonas. "We've all got
them. Only cuts and bruises, eh ? "

" I wouldn't have given sixpence for the gentleman's head
in half a dozen seconds more, for all he's only cut and
bruised," observed the post-boy. " If ever you're in an accident
of this sort again, sir, which I hope you won't be, never you
pull at the bridle of a horse that's down, when there's a man's

648 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

head in the way. That can't be done twice without tliere
being a dead man in the case ; it would have ended in that,
this time, as sure as ever you were born, if I hadn't come up
just when I did."

Jonas repUed by advising him with a curse to hold his
tongue, and to go somewhere, whither he was not very likely
to go of his own accord. But Montague, who had listened
eagerly to every word, himself diverted the subject, by ex-
claiming : " Where's the boy ! "

" Ecod, I forgot that monkey," said Jonas. " What's
become of him ! " A very brief search settled that question.
The unfortunate Mr. Bailey had been thrown sheer over the
hedge of the five-barred gate ; and was lying in the neighbor-
ing field, to all appearance dead.

"When 1 said to-night, that I wished I had never started
on this journey," cried his master, " I knew it was an ill-fated
one. Look at this boy ! "

" Is that all ? " growled Jonas. " If you call that a sign of
it—"

" Why, what should I call a sign of it ? " asked Montague,
hurriedly. " What do you mean .? "

" I mean," said Jonas, stooping down over the body,
" that I never heard you were his father, or had any particular
reason to care much about him. Halloa. Hold up here ! "

But the boy was past holding up, or being held up, or
giving any other sign of life, than a faint and fitful beating of
the heart. After some discussion, the driver mounted the
horse which had been least injured, and took the lad in his
arms, as well as he could ; while Montague and Jonas lead-
ing the other horse, and carrying a trunk between them,
walked by his side towards Salisbury,

" You'd get there in a few minutes, and be able to send
assistance to meet us, if you went forward, post-boy," said
Jonas. "Trot on ! "

"No, no," cried Montague ; "we'll keep together."

" Why, what a chicken you are ! You are not afraid of
being robbed ; are you t " said Jonas.

"I am not afraid of anything," replied the other, whose
looks and manner were in flat contradiction to his words,
"But we'll keep together."

"You were mighty anxious about the boy, a minute ago,"
said Jonas. " 1 suppose you know that he may die in the
meantime ? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 649

"Ay, ay. I know. But we'll keep together."

As it was clear that he was not to be moved from this
determination, Jonas made no other rejoinder than such as
his face expressed ; and they proceeded in company. They
had three or four good miles to travel ; and tlie way was not
made easier by the state of the road, the burden ,by which
they were embarrassed, or their own stiff and sore condition.
After a sufificiently long and painful walk they arrived at the
Inn ; and having knocked the people up (it being yet very
early in the morning), sent out messengers to see to the car-
riage and its contents, and roused a surgeon from his bed to
tend the chief sufferer. All the service he could render, he
rendered promptly and skilfully. But he gave it as his
opinion that the boy was laboring under a severe concussion of
the brain, and that Mr. Bailey's mortal course was run.

If Montague's strong interest in the announcement could
have been considered as unselfish, in any degree, it might
have been a redeeming trait in a character that had no such
lineaments to spare. But it was not difficult to see that, for
some unexpressed reason best appreciated by himself, he
attached a strange value to the company and presence of this
mere child. When, after receiving some assistance from the
surgeon himself, he retired to the bed-room prepared for him,
and it was broad day, his mind was still dwelling on this
theme.

"I would rather have lost," he said, "a thousand pounds
than lost the boy just now. But I'll return home alone. I
am resolved upon that. Chuzzlewit shall go forward first,
and I will follow in mv own time. I'll have no more of this,"
he added, wiping his damp forehead. " Twenty-four hours of
this would turn my hair gray ! "

After examining his chamber, and looking under the bed,
and in the cupboards, and even behind the curtains, with
unusual caution (although it was, as has been said, broad
day), he doubled-locked the door by which he had entered, and
retired to rest. There was another door in the room, but it
was locked on the outer side ; and with what place it com-
municated, he knew not.

His fears or evil conscience reproduced this door in all his
dreams. He dreamed that a dreadful secret was connected
with it, a secret which he knew, and yet did not know ; for
although he was heavily responsible for it, and a party to it,
he was harassed even in his \ision by a distracting uncer-

650

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

tainty in reference to its import. Incoherently entwined with
this dream was another, which represented it as the hiding-place
of an enemy, a shadow, a phantom ; and made it the business
of his life to keep the terrible creature closed up, and prevent
it from forcing its way in upon him. With this view Nadgett,
and he, and a strange man with a bloody smear upon his head
(who told him that he had been his playfellow, and told him,
too, the real name of an old schoolmate, forgotten until then),
worked with iron plates and nails to make the door secure ;
but though they worked never so hard, it was all in vain, for
the nails broke, or changed to soft twigs, or what was worse,
to worms, between their fingers ; the wood of the door
splintered and crumbled, so that even nails would not remain
in it ; and the iron plates curled up like hot paper. All this
time the creature on the other side — whether it was in the
shape of man, or beast, he neither knew nor sought to know
— was. gfainins: on them. But his greatest terror was when
the man with the bloody smear upon his head demanded of
him if he knew this creature's name, and said that he would
whisper it. At this the dreamer fell upon his knees, his
whole blood thrilling with inexplicable fear, and held his ears.
But looking at the speaker's lips, he saw that they formed the
utterance of the letter " J ; " and crying out aloud that the
secret was discovered, and they were all lost, he awoke.

Awoke to find Jonas standing at his bedside watching
him. And that very door wide open.

As their eyes met, Jonas retreated a few paces, and Mon-
tague sprang out of bed.

" Heyday ! " said Jonas. " You're all alive this morning."

" Alive ! " the other stammered, as he pulled the bell-rope
violently : "What are you doing here t "

" It's your room to be sure," said Jonas ; " but I'm almost
inclined to ask you what jou are doing here ? My room is on
the other side of that door. No one told me last night not to
open it. I thought it led into a passage, and was coming out
to order breakfast. There's — there's no bell in my room."

Montague had in the meantime admitted the man with his
hot water and boots, who hearing this, said, yes, there was ;
and passed into the adjoining room to point it out, at the head
of the bed.

" r couldn't find it, then," said Jonas : "it's all the same.
Shall I order breakfast ? "

Montague answered in the affirmative. When Jonas had

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 65 1

retired, whistling, through his own room, he opened the door
of communication, to take out the key and fasten it on the
inner side. But it was taken out already.

He dragged a table against the door, and sat down to
collect himself, as if his dreams still had some influence upon
his mind.

" An evil journey," he repeated several times. " An evil
journey. But I'll travel home alone. I'll have no more of
this ! "

His presentiment, or superstition, that it was an evil
journey, did not at all deter him from doing the evil for
which the journey was undertaken. With this in view, he
dressed himself more carefully than usual to make a favorable
impression on Mr. Pecksniff ; and, reassured by his own
appearance, the beauty of the morning, and the Hashing of
the wet boughs outside his window in the merry sunshine, was
soon sufficiently inspirited to swear a few round oaths, and
hum the fag-end of a song.

But he still muttered to himself at intervals, for all that :
"I'll travel home alone! "

CHAPTER XLHI.

HAS AN INFLUENCE ON THE FORTUNES OF SEVERAL PEOPLE,
MR. PECKSNIFF IS EXHIBITED IN THE PLENITUDE OF POWER,
AND WIELDS THE SAME WITH FORTITUDE AND MAGNANIM-
ITY.

On the night of the storm, Mrs. Lupin, hostess of the
Blue Dragon, sat by herself in her little bar. Her solitary
condition, or the bad weather, or both united, made Mrs.
Lupin thoughtful, not to say sorrowful. As she sat with her
chin upon her hand, looking out through a low back lattice,
rendered dim in the brightest daytime by clustering vine-
leaves, she shook her head very often, and said, " Dear me !
Ah, dear, dear, me ! "

It was a melancholy time, even in the snugness of the
Dragon bar. The rich expanse of corn-field, pasture-land,
green slope, and gentle undulation, with its sparkling brooks,

652 MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT.

its many hedgerows, and its clumps of beautiful trees, was black
and dreary, from the diamond panes of the lattice away to the
far horizon, where the. thunder seemed to roll alon^ the hills.
The heavy ram beat down the tender branches of vine and
jessamine, and trampled on them in its fury ; and when the
lightning gleamed, it showed the tearful leaves shivering and
cowering together at the window, and tapping at it urgently,
as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night.

As a mark of her respect for the lightning, Mrs. Lupin had
removed her candle to the chimney-piece. Her basket of
needlework stood unheeded at her elbow ; her supper spread
on a round table not far off, was untasted ; and the knives had
been removed for fear of attraction. She had sat for a long
time with her chin upon her hand, saying to herself at inter-
vals,. " Dear me ! Ah, dear, dear me ! "

She was on the e\-e of saying so, once more, when the
latch of the house-door (closed to keep the rain out), rattled
on its well-worn catch, and a traveller came in, who, shutting
it after him, and walking straight up to the half-door of the
bar, said, rather gruffly :

" A pint of the best old beer here."

He had some reason to be gruff, for if he had passed the
day in a waterfall, he could scarcely have been wetter than he
was. He was wrapped up to the eyes in a rough blue sailor's
coat, and had an oil-skin hat on, from the capacious brim of
which, the rain fell trickling down upon his breast, and back,
and shoulders. Judging from a certain liveliness of chin — he
had so pulled down his hat, and pulled up his collar to de-
fend himself from the weather, that she could only see his
chin, and even across that he drew the wet sleeve of his
shaggy coat, as she looked at hnn — Mrs. Lupin set him down
for a good-natured fellow, too.

" A bad night ! " observed the hostess cheerfully.

The traveller shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and
said it was, rather.

" There's a fire in the kitchen," said Mrs. Lupin, " and
very good company there. Hadn't you better go and dry
yourself } "

" No, thankee," said the man, glancing towards the kitchen
as he spoke ; he seemed to know the way.

" It's enough to give you your death of cold," observed
the hostess.

" I don't take my death easy," returned the traveller ; " or

MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT. . 653

I should most likely have took it afore to-night. Your health,
ma'am ! "

Mrs. Lupin thanked him ; but in the act of lifting the
tankard to his mouth, he changed his mind, and put it down
again. Throwing his body back, and looking about him stiff-
ly, as a man does who is wrapped up, and has his hat low
down over his eyes, he said,

" What do you call this house ? Not the Dragon, do
you ? "

Mrs. Lupin complacently made answer, " Yes, the Dra-
gon."

" Why, then, you've got a sort of a relation of mine here,
ma'am," said the traveller ; " a young man of the name of
Tapley. What ! Mark, my boy ! " apostrophizing the prem-
ises, " have I come upon you at last, old buck ! "

This was touching Mrs. Lupin on a tender point. She
turned to trim the candle on the chimney-piece, and said, with
her back towards the traveller :

" Nobody should be made more welcome at the Dragon,
master, than any one who brought me news of ALark. But
it's many and many a long day and month since he left here
and England. And whether he's alive or dead, poor fellow,
Heaven above us only knows ! "

She shook her head, and her voice trembled ; her hand
must have done so too, for the light required a deal of trim-
ming.

" Where did he go, ma'am ? " asked the traveller, in a
gentler voice.

"He went," said Mrs. Lupin, with increased distress, "to
America. He was always tender-hearted and kind, and per-
haps at this moment may be lying in prison under sentence of
death, for taking pity on some miserable black, and helping
the poor runaway creetur to escape. How could he ever go
to America ! Why didn't he go to some of those countries
where the savages eat each other fairly antl give an equal
chance to every one ! "

Quite subdued by this time, Mrs. Lupin sobbed, and was
retiring to a chair to give her grief free vent, when the trav-
eller caught her in his arms, and she uttered a grand crv of
recognition.

" Yes, I will ! " cried Mark, " another — one more — twenty
more ! You didn't know me in that hat and coat .'' I thought
you would have known me anywheres ! Ten more ! "

654 • MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" So I should have known you, if I could have seen you ;
but I couldn't, and you spoke so gruff. I didn't think you
could speak gruff to me, Mark, at first coming back."

" Fifteen more ! " said Mr. Tapley. " How handsome and
how young you look ! Six more ! The last half-dozen warn't
a fair one, and must be clone over again. Lord bless you,
what a treat it is to see you ! One more ! Well, I never was
so jolly. Just a few more, on account of there not being any
credit in it ! "

When Mr. Tapley stopped in these calculations in simple
addition, he did it, not because he was at all tired of the exer-
cise, but because he was out of breath. The pause reminded
him of other duties.

" Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit's outside," he said. " I left him
under the cart-shed, while I came on to see if there was any-
body here. We want to keep quiet to-night, till we know the
news from you, and what it's best for us to do."

" There's not a soul in the house, except the kitchen com-
pany," returned the hostess. " If they were to know you had
come back, Mark, they'd have a bonfire in the street, late as
it is."

" But they mustn't know it to-night, my precious soul," said
Mark ; " so have the house shut, and the kitchen fire made up ;
and when it's all ready, put a light in the winder, and we'll come
in. One more ! I long to hear about old friends. You'll tell
me all about 'em, won't you : Mr. Pinch, and the butcher's dog
down the street, and the terrier over the way, and the wheel-
wright's, and eveiy one of 'em. When I first caught sight of
the church to-night, I thought the steeple would have choked
me, I did. One more ! Won't you .-' Not a very little one
to finish off with t "

" You have had plenty, I am sure," said the hostess.
" Go along with your foreign manners ! ''

" That ain't foreign, bless you ! " cried Mark. " Native as
oysters, that is ! One more, because it's native ! As a mark
of respect for the land we live in ! This don't count as be-
tween you and me, you understand," said Mr. Tapley. " I
ain't a kissing you now, you'll observe. I have been among
the patriots : I'm a kissin' my country."

It would have been very unreasonable to complain of the
exhibition of his patriotism with which he followed up this ex-
planation, that it was all lukewarm or indifferent. When he
had given full expression to his nationality, he hurried off to

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

655

Martin ; while Mrs. Lupin, in a state of great agitation and
excitement, prepared for their reception.

The company soon came tumbhng out, insisting to each
other that the Dragon clock was half an hour too fast, and
that the thunder must have affected it. Impatient, wet, and
weary though they were, Martin and Mark were overjoyed to
see these old faces, and watched them with delighted interest
as they departed from the house, and passed close by them.

" There's the old tailor, Mark ! " whispered Martin.

" There he goes, sir ! A little handier than he was, I
think, sir, ain't he ? His figure's so far altered, as it seems
to me, that you might wheel a rather larger barrow between
his legs as he walks, than you could have done conveniently,
when we know'd him. There's Sam a coming out, sir."

" Ah, to be. sure ! " cried Martin : " Sam, the hostler. I
wonder whether that horse of Pecksniff's is alive still 1 "

"Not a doubt on it, sir," returned Mark. " I'hat's a de-
scription of animal, sir, as will go on in a bony way peculiar
to himself for a long time, and get into the newspapers at last
under the title of ' Sing'lar Tenacity of Life in a Quadruped.'
As if he had ever been alive in all his life, worth mentioning I
There's the clerk, sir, — wery drunk, as usual."

" I see him ! " said Martin, laughing. " But, my life, how
wet you are, Mark ! "

"/am ! What do vou consider vourself, sir? "

" Oh, not half as bad," said his fellow-traveller, with an
air of great vexation. " 1 told you not to keep on the windy
side, Mark, but let us change and change about. The rain
has been beating on you ever since it began."

" You don't know how it pleases me, sir," said Mark, after
a short silence, " if I may make so bold as say so, to hear you
a going on in that there uncommon considerate way of yours \
which I don't mean to attend to, never, but which, ever since
that time when I was floored in Eden, you have showed."

" Ah, Mark ! " sighed Martin, " the less we say of that the
better. Do I see the light yonder? "

" That's the light ! " cried Mark. " Lord bless her, what
briskness she possesses ! Now for it, sir. Neat wines, good
beds, and first-rate entertainment for man or beast."

The kitchen fire burnt clear and red, the table was spread
out, the kettle boiled ; the slippers were there, the boot-jack
too, sheets of ham were there, cooking on the gridiron ; half-
a-dozen of eggs were there, poaching in the frying-pan ; a

6s6

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

plethoric cherry-brandy bottle was there, winking at a foaming
jug of beer upon the table ; rare provisions were there, dang-
ling from the rafters as if you had only to open your mouth,
and something exquisitely ripe and good would be glad of the
excuse for tumbling into it. Mrs. Lupin, who for their sakes
had dislodged the very cook, high priestess of the temple,
with her own genial hands was dressing their repast.

It was impossible to help it — a ghost must have hugged
her. The Atlantic Ocean and the Red Sea being, in that re-
spect, all one, Martin hugged her instantly. Mr. Tapley (as
if the idea were quite novel, and had never occurred to him
before), followed, with much gravity, on the same side.

" Little did I ever think," said Mrs. Lupin, adjusting her
cap and laughing heartily ; yes, and blushing too ; " often as
I have said that Mr. Pecksniff's young gentlemen were the
life and soul of the Dragon, and that without them it would
be too dull to live in — little did I ever think, I am sure, that
any one of them would ever make so free as you, Mr. Mar-
tin ! And still less that I shouldn't be angry with him, but
should be glad with all my heart, to be the first to welcome
him home from America, with Mark Tapley, for his — "

" For his friend, Mrs. Lupin," interposed Martin.

" For his friend," said the hostess, evidently gratified by
this distinction, but at the same time admonishing Mr. Tap-
ley with a fork to remain at a respectful distance. "Little
did I ever think that ! but still less, that I should ever have
the changes to relate that I shall have to tell you of, when
you have done your supper ! "

" Good Heaven ! " cried Martin, changing color, " What
changes ? "

" She,^'' said the hostess, " is quite well, and now at Mr.
Pecksniff's. Don't be at all alarmed about her. She is every
thing you could wish. It's of no use mincing matters, or
making secrets, is it .' I know all about it, you see 1 "

" My good creature," returned Martin, "you are exactly
the person who ought to know all about it. I am delighted
to think you do know all about it. But what changes do you
hint at ? Has any death occurred ? "

" No, no ! " said the hostess. " Not so bad as that. But
I declare now that I will not be drawn into saying another
word till you have had your supper. If you ask me fifty
questions in the meantime, I won't answer one."

She was so positive, that there was nothing for it but to

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

657

get the supper over as quickly as possible ; and as they had
been walking a great many miles, and had fasted since the
middle of the day, they did no great violence to their own in-
clinations in falling on it tooth and nail. It took rather longer
to get through than might have been expected ; for, half-a-
dozen times, when they thought they had finished, Mrs. Lu-
pin exposed the fallacy of that impression triumphantly. But
at last, in the course of time and nature, they gave in. Then,
sitting with their slippered feet stretched out upon the kitchen
hearth (which was wonderfully comforting, for the night had
grown by this time raw and chilly), and looking with involun-
tary admiration at their dimpled, buxom, blooming hostess,
as the firelight sparkled in her eyes and glimmered in her
raven hair, they composed themselves to listen to her news.

Many were the exclamations of surprise which interrupted
her, when she told them of the separation between Mr. Peck-
sniff and his daughters, and between the same good gentle-
man and Mr. Pinch. But these were nothing to the indignant
demonstrations of Martin, when she related, as the common
talk of the neighborhood, what entire possession he had ob-
tained over the mind and person of old Mr. Chuzzlewit, and
what high honor he designed for Mary. On receipt of this
intelligence, Martin's slippers flew off in a twinkling, and he
began pulling on his wet boots with that indefinite intention
of going somewhere instantly, and doing something to some-
body, which is the first safety-valve of a hot temper.

" He ! " said Martin, " smooth-tongued villain that he is !
He ! Give me that other boot, Mark ! "

" Where was you a thinking of going to, sir ? " inquired
Mr. Tapley, drying the sole at the fire, and looking coolly at
it as he spoke, as if it were a slice of toast.

" Where ! " repeated Martin. " You don't suppose I am
going to remain here, do you ? "

The imperturbable Mark confessed that he did.

" You do ! " retorted Martin angrily. " I am nuich obliged
to you. What do you take me for ? "

" I take you for what you are, sir," said Mark ; " and, con-
sequently, am quite sure that whatever you do, will be right
and sensible. The boot, sir."

Martin darted an impatient look at him, without taking it,
and walked rapidly up and down the kitchen several times,
with one boot and a stocking on. But, mindful of his Eden
resolution, he had already gained many victories over himself

42

658

MAR77N CHUZZLEWIT.

when Mark was in the case, and he resolved to conquer now.
So he came back to the boot-jack, laid his hand on Mark's
shoulder to steady himself, pulled the boot off, picked up his
slippers, put them on, and sat down again. He could not
help thrusting his hands to the very bottom of his pockets,
and muttering at intervals, " Pecksniff too ! That fellow !
Upon my soul ! In-deed ! What next ? " and so forth : nor
could he help occasionally shaking his fist at the chimney,
with a very threatening countenance ; but this did not last
long ; and he heard Mrs. Lupin out, if not with composure, at
all events in silence.

" As to Mr. Pecksniff himself," observed the hostess in
conclusion, spreading out the skirts of her gown with both
hands, and nodding her head a great many times as she did
so, " I don't know what to say. Somebody must have poisoned
his mind, or influenced him in some extraordinary way. I
cannot believe that such a noble-spoken gentleman would go
and do wrong of his own accord ! "

A noble-spoken gentleman ! How many people are there
in the world, who, for no better reason, uphold their Pecks-
niffs to the last, and abandon virtuous men, when Pecksniffs
breathe upon them !

" As to Mr. Pinch," pursued the landlady, " if ever there
was a dear, good, pleasant, worthy, soul alive. Pinch, and no
other, is his name. But how do we know that old Mr. Chuz-
zlewit himself was not the cause of difference arising between
him and Mr. Pecksniff ? No one but themselves can tell ; for
Mr. Pinch has a proud spirit, though he has such a quiet way ;
and when he left us, and was so sorry to go, he scorned to
make his story good, even to me."

" Poor old Tom ! " said Martin, in a tone that sounded like
remorse.

" It's a comfort to know," resumed the landlady, "that he
has his sister living with him, and is doing well. Only yester-
day he sent me back, by post, a little — " here the color came
into her cheeks — " a little trifle I was bold enough to lend
him when he went away, saying, with many thanks, that he
had good employment, and didn't want it. It was the same
note ; he hadn't broken it. I never thought I could have
beeii so little pleased to see a bank-note come back to me, as
I was to see that."

" Kindly said, and heartily ! " said Martin. " Is it not,
Mark ? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

6S9

" She can't say anything as does not possess them quali-
ties," returned Mr. Tapley ; " which as much belong to the
■ Dragon as its license. And now that we have got quite cool
and fresh to the subject again, sir, what will you do ? If
you're not proud, and can make up your mind to go through
with what you spoke of, coming along, that's the course for
you to take. If you started wrong with your grandfather
(which, you'll excuse my taking the liberty of saying, appears
to have been the case), up with you, sir, and tell him so, and
make an appeal to his affections. Don't stand out. He's a
great deal older than you, and if he was hasty, you was hasty
too. Give way, sir, give way."

The eloquence of Mr. Tapley was not without its effect on
Martin, but he still hesitated, and expressed his reason thus :

" That's all very true, and perfectly correct, Mark ; and if
it were a mere question of humbling myself before ///w, I
would not consider it twice. But don't you see, that being
wholly under this hypocrite's government, and having (if
what we hear be true) no mind or will of his own, I throw my-
self, in fact, not at his feet, but at the feet of Mr. Pecksniff?
And when I am rejected and spurned away," said Martin,
turning crimson at the thought, " it is not by him — my own
blood stirred against me — but by Pecksniff — Pecksniff,
Mark ! "

" Well, but we know beforehand," returned the politic Mr.
Tapley, " that Pecksniff is a wagabond, a scoundrel, and a
willain."

" A most pernicious villain ! " said Martin.

" A most pernicious willain. We know that beforehand,
sir ; and, consequently, it's no shame to be defeated by Peck-
sniff. Blow Pecksniff ! " cried Mr. Tapley, in the fervor of
his eloquence. " Who's he ! It's not in the nature of Peck-
sniff to shame ns^ unless he agreed with us, or done us a ser-
vice ; and, in case he offered any outdacity of that descrip-
tion, we could express our sentiments in the English language,
I hope. Pecksniff ! " repeated Mr. Tapley, with ineffable dis-
dain. " What's Pecksniff, who's Pecksniff, where's Pecksniff,*
that he's to be so much considered ? We're not a calculating
for ourselves ; " he -laid uncommon emphasis on the last sylla-
ble of that word, and looked full in Martin's face ; " we're
making a effort for a young lady likewise as has undergone
her share ; and whatever little hope we have, this here Peck-
sniff is not to stand in its way, I expect. I never heard of

66 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

any act of Parliament as was made by Pecksniff. Pecksniff !
Why, I wouldn't see the man myself ; I wouldn't hear him ; I
wouldn't choose to know he was in company. I'd scrape my
shoes on the scraper of the door, and call that Pecksniff, if
you liked ; but I wouldn't condescend no further."

The amazement of Mrs. Lupin, and indeed of Mr. Tapley
himself for that matter, at this impassioned flow of language,
was immense. But Martin, after looking thoughtfully at the
fire for a short time, said :

" You are right, Mark. Right or wrong, it shall be done.
I'll do it."

"One word more, sir," returned Mark. " Only think of
him so far, as not to give him a handle against you. Don't
you do anything secret, that he can report before you get
there. Don't you even see Miss Mar}' in the morning, but let
this here dear friend of ours ; " Mr. Tapley bestowed a smile
upon the hostess ; " prepare her for what's a going to happen,
and carry any little message as may be agreeable. She knows
how. Don't you ? " Mrs. Lupin laughed and tossed her
head. " Then you go in, bold and free as a gentleman should.
' I haven't done nothing underhanded,' says you. ' I haven't
been a skulking about the premises, here I am, for-give me, I
ask your pardon, God Bless You ! ' "

Martin smiled, but felt that it was good advice not-
withstanding, and resolved to act upon it. When they ascer-
tained from Mrs. Lupin that Pecksniff had already returned
from the great ceremonial at which they had beheld him in his
glory, and when they had fully arranged the order of their
proceedings, they went to bed, intent upon the morrow.

In pursuance of their project as agreed upon at this discus-
sion, Mr. Tapley issued forth next morning, after breakfast,
charged with a letter from Martin to his grandfather, request-
ing leave to wait upon him for a few minutes. And post-
ponijig as he went along the congratulations of his numerous
friends until a more convenient season, he soon arrived at
Mr. Pecksniff's house. At that gentleman's door, with a face
so immovable that it would have been next to an impossibility
far the most acute physiognomist to determine what he was
thinking about, or whether he was thinking at all, he straight-
way knocked.

'a person of Mr. Tapley's observation could not long re-
main insensible to the fact, that Mr. Pecksniff was making the
end of his nose very blunt against the glass of the parlor

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 66 1

window, in an angular attempt to discover wlio had knocked
at the door. Nor was Mr. Tapley slow to batifle this mo\e-
ment on the part of the enemy, by perching himself on the
top step, and presenting the crown of his hat in that direc-
tion. But possibly Mr. Pecksniff had already seen him, for
Mark soon heard his shoes creaking, as he advanced to open
the door with his own hands.

Mr. Pecksniff was as cheerful as ever, and sang a little
song in the passage.

" How d'ye do, sir.'' " said Mark.

" Oh ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Tapley, I believe ? The
Prodigal returned ! We don't want any beer, my friend."

" Thankee, sir," said Mark. " I couldn't accommodate
you, if you did. A letter, sir. Wait for an answer."

" For me ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " And an answer, eh ? "

"Not for you I think, sir," said Mark, pointing out the
direction. " Chuzzlewit, I believe the name is, sir."

"Oh!" returned Mr. Pecksniff. "Thank you. Yes.
Who's it from, my good young man ? "

" The gentleman it comes from, wrote his name inside,
sir," returned Mr. Tapley with extreme politeness. " I see
him a signing of it at the end, while I was a waitin'."

" And he said he wanted an answer did he ! " asked Mr.
Pecksniff in his most persuasive manner.

Mark replied in the affirmative.

" He shall have an answer. Certainlv," said Mr. Peck-
sniff, tearing the letter into small pieces, as mildly as if that
were the most flattering attention a correspondent could re-
ceive. " Have the 2,-oodness to pive hini that, with mv com-
pliments, if you please. Good-morning!" Whereupon, he
handed Mark the scraps ; and shut the door.

Mark thought it prudent to subdue his personal emotions,
and return to Martin, at the Dragon. They were not unpre-
pared for such a reception, and suffered an hour or so to
elapse before making another attempt. When this interval
had gone by, they returned to Mr. Pecksniff's house in com-
pany. Martin knocked this time, while Mr. Tapley prepared
himself to keep the door open with his foot and shoulder,
when anybody came, and by that means secure an enforced
parley. But this precaution was needless, for the servant girl
appeared almost immediately. Brushing quickly past her as
he had resolved in such a case to do, Martin (closely followed
by his faithful ally) opened the door of that parlor in which

662 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

he knew a visitor was most likely to be found, passed at once
into the room ; and stood, without a word of notice or an-
nouncement, in the presence of his grandfather.

Mr. Pecksniff also was in the room, and Maiy. In the
swift instant of their mutr.al recognition, Martin saw the old
man droop his gray head, and hide his face in his hands.

It smote him to the heart. In his most selfish and most
careless day, this lingering remnant of the old man's ancient
love, this buttress of a ruined tower he had built up in the
time gone by, with so much pride and hope, would have
caused a pang in Martin's heart. But now, changed for the
better in his worst respect ; looking through an altered me-
dium on his former friend, the guardian of his childhood, so
broken and bowed down ; resentment, sullenness, self-confi-
dence, and pride, were all swept away, before the starting
tears upon the withered cheeks. He could not bear to see
them. He could not bear to think they fell at sight of him.
He could not bear to view reflected in them, the reproachful
and irrevocable Past.

He hurriedly advanced, to seize the old man's hand in his,
when Mr. Pecksniff interposed himself between them.

" No, young man ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, striking himself
upon the breast, and stretching out his other arm towards his
guest as if it were a wing to shelter him. " No, sir. None of
that. Strike here, sir, here ! Launch your arrows at me, sir,
if you'll have the goodness ; not at him ! "

"Grandfather!" cried Martin. "Hear me! I implore
you, let me speak ! "

" Would you, sir ! Would you ! " said Mr. Pecksniff,
dodging about, so as to keep himself always between them.
" Is it not enough, sir, that you come into my house like a
thief in the night, or I should rather say, for we can never be
too particular on the subject of Truth, like a thief in the day-
time ; bringing your dissolute companions with you, to plant
themselves with their backs against theinsidesof parlor doors,
and prevent the entrance or issuing forth of any of my house-
hold ; " Mark had taken up this position, and held it quite
unmoved ; " but would you also strike at venerable Virtue ?
Would you ? Know that it is not defenceless. I will be its
shield, young man. Assail me. Come on, sir. Fire away ! "

" Pecksniff," said the old man, in a feeble voice. "Calm
yourself. Be quiet."

" I can't be calm," cried Mr. Pecksniff, "and I won't be

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 663

quiet. My benefactor and my friend ! Shall even my house
be no refuge for your hoary pillow ! "

" Stand aside ! " said the old man, stretching out his hand ;
" and let me see what it is, I used to love so dearly."

" It is right that you should see it, my friend," said Mr.
Pecksniff. " It is well that you should see it, my noble sir.
It is desirable that you should contemplate it in its true pro-
portions. Behold it ! There it is, sir. There it is ! "

Martin could hardly be a mortal man, and not express in his
face something of the anger and disdain, with which Mr. Peck-
sniff inspired him. But beyond this he evinced no knowledge
whatever of that gentleman's presence or existence. True, he
had once, and that at first, glanced at him involuntarily, and
with supreme contempt ; but for any other heed he took of
him, there might have been nothing in his place save empty air.

As Mr. Pecksniff withdrew from between them, agreeably
to the wish just now expressed (which he did during the de-
livery of the observations last recorded), old Martin, who had
taken Mary Graham's hand in his, and whispered kindly to
her, as telling her she had no cause to be alarmed, gently
pushed her from him, behind his chair \ and looked steadily
at his grandson.

" And that," he said, " is he. Ah ! that is he ! Say what
you wish to say. But come no nearer."

" His sense of justice is so fine," said Mr. Pecksniff, "that
he will hear even him, although he knows beforehand that
nothing can come of it. Ingenuous mind ! " Mr. Pecksniff
did not address himself immediately to any person in saying
this, but assuming the position of the Chorus in a Greek
Tragedy, delivered his opinion as a commentary on the pro-
ceedings.

" Grandfather ! " said Martin, with great earnestness.
" From a painful journey, from a hard life, from a sick-bed,
from privation and distress, from gloom and disappointment,
from almost hopelessness and despair, I have come back to
you."

" Rovers of this sort," observed Mr. Pecksniff as Chorus,
" very commonly come back when they find they don't meet
with the success they expected in their marauding ravages."

" But for this faithful man," said Martin, turning towards
Mark, " whom I first knew in this place, and who went away
with me voluntarily, as a servant, but has been, throughout,
my zealous and devoted friend ; but for him, I nmst have died

664 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

abroad. Far from home, far from any help or consolation ;
far from the probability even of my wretched fate being ever
known to any one who cared to hear it — oh that you would
let me say, of being known to you."

The old man looked at Mr. Pecksniff. Mr. Pecksniff
looked at him. "Did you speak, my worthy sir?" said Mr.
Pecksniff, with a smile. The old man answered in the nega-
tive. " I know what you thought," said Mr. Pecksniff, with
another smile. " Let him go on, my friend. The develop-
ment of self-interest \\\ the human mind is always a curious
study. Let him go on, sir."

" Go on ! " observed the old man, in a mechanical obedi-
ence, it appeared, to Mr. Pecksniff's suggestion.

'* I have been so wretched and so poor," said Martin, "that
I am indebted to the charitable help of a stranger, in a land of
strangers, for the means of returning here. All this tells
against me in your mind, I know. I have given you cause to
think I have been driven here wholly by want, and have not been
led on, in any degree, by affection or regret. When I parted
from you, Grandfather, I deserved that suspicion, but I do
not now. I do not now."

The Chorus put its hand in its waistcoat, and smiled.
" Let him go on, my worthy sir," it said. " I know what you
are thinking of, but don't express it prematurely."

Old Martin raised his eyes to Mr. Pecksniff's face, and
appearing to derive renewed instruction from his looks and
words, said, once again :

"Go on !"

" I have little more to say," returned Martin. " And as
I say it now, with little or no hope. Grandfather ; whatever
dawn of hope I had on entering the room ; believe it to be
true. At least, believe it to be true."

" Beautiful Truth ! " exclaimed the Chorus, looking up-
ward. " How is your name profaned by vicious persons !
You don't live in a well, my holy principle, but on the lips of
false mankind. It is hard to bear with mankind, dear sir," — ■
addressing the elder Mr. Chuzzlewit ; " but let us do so
meekly. Jt is our duty so to do. Let us be among the Few
who do their duty. If," pursued the Chorus, soaring up into
a lofty flight, " as the poet informs us, England expects every
man to do his duty, England is the most sanguine countr}' on
the face of the earth, and will find itself continually disap-
pointed."

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 665

" Upon that subject," said Martin, looking calmly at the
old man as he spoke, but glancing once at Mary, whose face
was now buried in her hands, upon the back of his easy-chair;
"upon that subject, which hrst occasioned a division between
us, my mind and heart are incapable of change. Whatever
influence they have undergone, since that unhappy time, has
not been one to weaken but to strengthen me. I cannot pro-
fess sorrow for that, nor irresolution in that, nor shame in
that. Nor would you wish me, I know. But that I might
have trusted to your love, if I had thrown myself manfully
upon it ; that I might have won you over, with ease, if I had
been more yielding, and more considerate ; that I should
have best remembered myself in forgetting myself, and recol-
lecting you ; reflection, solitude, and misery, have taught me.
I came, resolved to say this, and to ask your forgiveness ;
not so much in hope for the future, as in regret for the past ;
for all that I would ask of you is, that you would aid me to
live. Help me to get honest work to do, and I would do it.
My condition places me at the disadvantage of seeming to
have only my selfish ends to serve, but try if that be so, or
not. Try if I be self-willed, obdurate, and haughty, as I
was ; or have been disciplined in a rough school. Let the
voice of nature and association plead between us. Grandfather ;
and do not, for one fault, however thankless, quite reject
me ! "

As he ceased, the gray head of the old man dropped
again ; and he concealed his face behind his outspread
fingers.

" My dear sir," cried Mr. PecksnilT, bending over him,
"you must not give way to this. It is very natural, and
very amiable, but you must not allow the shameless conduct
of one whom you long ago cast off, to move you so far.
Rouse yourself. Think," said Pecksniff, "think of Me, my
friend."

" I will," returned old Martin, looking up into his face.
"You recall me to myself. I will."

" Why, what," said Mr. Pecksnifif, sitting down beside
him in a chair which he drew up for the purpose, and tapping
him playfully on the arm, "what is the matter with my strong-
minded compatriot, if I may venture to take the liberty of
calling him by that endearing expression ? Shall I have to
scold my coadjutor, or to reason with an intellect like his ?
I think not."

666 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" No, no. There is no occasion," said the old man. " A
momentary feeling. Nothing more."

"Indignation," observed Mr. Pecksniff, "re/// bring the
scalding tear into the honest eye, I know ; " he wiped his own
elaborately. " But we have higher duties to perform than that.
Rouse yourself, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Shall I give expression to
your thoughts, my friend ? "

" Yes," said old Martin, leaning back in his chair, and
looking at him, half in vacancy and half in admiration, as if
he were fascinated by the man. " Speak for me, Pecksniff.
I'hank you. You are true to me. Thank you ! "

"Do not unman me, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his
hand vigorously, " or I shall be unequal to the task. It is
not agreeable to my feelings, my good sir, to address the
person who is now before us, for when I ejected him from
this house, after hearing of his unnatural conduct from your
lips, I renounced communication with him forever. But you
desire it ; and that is sufficient. Young man ! The door is
immediately behind the companion of your infamy. Blush if
you can ; begone without a blush, if you can't."

Martin looked as steadily at his grandfather as if there
had been a dead silence all this time. The old man looked
no less steadily at Mr. Pecksniff.

" When I ordered you to leave this house upon the last
occasion of your being dismissed from it with disgrace," said
Mr. Pecksniff; "when, stung and stimulated beyond endur-
ance by your shameless conduct to this extraordinary noble-
minded individual, I exclaimed ' Go forth ! ' I told you that
I wept for your depravity. Do not suppose that the tear
which stands in my eye at this moment, is shed for you. It is
shed for him, sir. It is shed for him."

Here Mr. Pecksniff, accidentally dropping the tear in
question on a bald part of Mr. Chuzzlewit's head, wiped
the place with his pocket-handkerchief, and begged pardon.

" It is shed for him, sir, whom you seek to make the vic-
tim of your arts," said Mr. Pecksniff ; " whom you seek to
plunder, to deceive, and to mislead. It is shed in sympathy
with him, and admiration of him ; not in pity for him, for
happily he knows what you are. You shall not wrong him
further, sir, in any way," said Mr. Pecksniff, quite transported
with enthusiasm, " while I have life. You may bestride my
senseless corse, sir. That is very likely. I can imagine a
mind like yours deriving great satisfaction from %ny measure

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

667

of that kind. But while I continue to be called upon to exist,
sir, you must strike at him through me. Aye ! " said Mr.
Pecksniff, shaking his head at Martin with indignant jocularity ;
" and in such a cause you will find me, my young sir, an L'gly
Customer ! "

Still Martin looked steadily and mildly at his grandfather.
" Will you give me no answer," he said, at length, ''not a
word ? "

" You hear what has been said," replied the old man,
without averting his eyes from the face of Mr. Pecksniff, who
nodded encouragingly.

" 1 have not heard your voice. I have not heard your
spirit," returned Martin.

"Tell him again," said the old man, still gazing up in Mr.
Pecksniff's face.

" I only hear," replied Martin, strong in his purpose from
the first, and stronger in it as he felt how Pecksniff winced
and shrunk beneath his contempt ; " I only hear what you
say to me, grandfather."

Perhaps it was well for Mr. Pecksniff that his venerable
friend found in his (Mr. Pecksniff's) features an exclusive
and engrossing subject of contemplation, for if his eyes had
gone astray, and he had compared young Martin's bearing
with that of his zealous defender, the latter disinterested gen-
tleman would scarcely have shown to greater advantage than
on the memorable afternoon when he took Tom Pinch's last
receipt in full of all demands. One really might ha\e thought
there was some quality in Mr. Pecksniff — an emanation from
the brightness and purity within him perhaps — which set off
and adorned his foes, they looked so gallant and so manly
beside him.

"Not a word ? " said Martin, for the second time.

" I remember that 1 ha\e a word to say, Pecksniff," ob-
served the old man. " Put a word. You spoke of being
indebted to the charitable help of some stranger for the means
of returning to England. Who is he .'' And what help in
money did he render you ? "

Although he asked this question of Martin, he did not
look towards him, but kept his eyes on Mr. Pecksniff as
before. It appeared to have become a habit with him. both
in a literal and figurative sense, to look to Mr. Pecksniff
alone.

Martin fook out his pencil, tore a leaf from his pocket-

668 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

book, and hastily wrote clown the particulars of his debt to
Mr. Bevan. The old man stretched out his hand for the
paper, and took it ; but his eyes did not wander from Mr,
Pecksniff's face.

" It would be a poor pride and a false humility," said
Martin, in a low voice, " to say, I do not wish that to be paid,
or that I have any present hope of being able to pay it. liut
1 never felt my poverty so deeply as I feel it now."

" Read it to me, Pecksniff," said the old man.

Mr. Pecksniff, after approaching the perusal of the paper
as if it were a manuscript confession of a murder, complied.

'' I think, Pecksniff," said old Martin, " I could wish that
to be discharged. I should not like the lender, who was
abroad, who had no opportunity of making inquiry, and who
did (as he thought) a kind action, to suffer."

" An honorable sentiment, my dear sir. Your own en-
tirely. But a dangerous precedent," said Mr. Pecksniff,
"permit me to suggest."

" It shall not be a precedent," returned the old man. " It
is the only recognition of him. But we will talk of it again.
You shall advise me. There is nothing else ? "

"Nothing else," said Mr. Pecksniff buoyantly, "but for
you to recover this intrusion — this cowardly and indefensible
outrage on your feelings — with all possible dispatch, and
smile again."

" You have nothing more to say ? " inquired the old man,
laying his hand with unusual earnestness on Mr. Pecksniff's
sleeve.

Mr. Pecksniff would not say what rose to his lips. For
reproaches, he observed, were useless.

" You have nothing at all to urge } You are sure of that ?
If you have, no matter what it is, speak freely. I will oppose
nothing that you ask of me," said the old man.

The tears rose in such abundance to Mr. Pecksniff's eyes
at this proof of unlimited confidence on the part of his friend,
that he was fain to clasp the bridge of his nose convulsively
before he could at all compose himself. When he had the
power of utterance again, he said, with great emotion, that he
hoped he should live to deserve this ; and added, that he had
no other observation whatever to make.

For a few moments the old man sat looking at him, with
that blank and motionless expression which is not uncommon
in the faces of those whose faculties are on the wane, in age-

MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT.

669

But he rose up firmly too, and walked towards the door, from
which Mark withdrew to make way for him.

The obsequious Mr. Pecksniff proffered his arm. The old
man took it. Turning at the door, he said to Martin, waving
off with his hand,

" You have heard him. Go away. It is all over. Go ! "

Mr. Pecksniff murmured certain cheering expressions of
sympathy and encouragement as they retired ; and Martin,
awakening from the stupor into which the closing portion of
this scene had plunged him, to the opportunity afforded by
their departure, caught the innocent cause of all in his em-
brace, and pressed her to his heart.

" Dear girl ! " said Martin. " He has not changed you.
Why, what an impotent and harmless knave the fellow is ! "

" You have restrained yourself so nobly ! You have borne
so much ! "

" Restrained mj'self ! " cried Martin, cheerfully. " You
were by, and were unchanged, I knew. What more advan-
tage did I want ? The sight of me was such a bitterness to
the dog, that I had my triimiph in his being forced to endure
it. But tell me, love — for the few hasty words we can ex-
change now are precious — what is this which has been
rumored to me } Is it true that you are persecuted by this
knave's addresses ? "

" I was, dear Martin, and to some extent am now ; but my
chief source of unhappiness has been anxiety for you. Why
did you leave us in such terrible suspense ? "

" Sickness, distance ; the dread of hinting at our real con-
dition, the impossibility of concealing it except in perfect
silence ; the knowledge that the truth would have pained you
infinitely more than uncertainty and doubt," said Martin,
hurriedly ; as indeed ever}^thing else was done and said, in
these few hurried moments, "were the causes of my writing
only once. But Pecksniff ? You needn't fear to tell me the
whole tale ; for you saw me with him face to face, hearing
him speak, and not taking him by the throat : what is the his-
tory of his pursuit of you "i Is it known to my grandfather.^ "

" Yes."

" And he assists him in it ? "

"No," she answered eagerly.

" Thank Heaven 1 " cried Alartin, " that, it leaves his mind
unclouded in that one respect ! "

" I do not think," said Mary, " it was known to him at

670 MARThY CHUZZLEWIT.

first. When this man had sufficiently prepared his mind, he
revealed it to him by degrees. I thinl<. so, but I only know
it, from my own impression, not from anything they told me.
Then he spoke to me alone."

" My grandfather did ? " said Martin.

' Yes — spoke to me alone, and told me — "

" What the hound had said," cried Martin. " Don't
repeat it."

" And said I knew well what qualities he possessed ; that
he was moderately rich, in good repute, and high in his
favor and confidence. But seeing me \&xy much distressed,
he said that he would not control or force my inclinations, but
would content himself with telling me the fact. He would
not pain me by dwelling on it, or reverting to it ; nor has he
ever done so since, but has truly kept his word "

"The man himself? — " asked Martin.

*' He has had few opportunities of pursuing his suit. I
have never walked out alone, or remained alone an instant in
his presence. Dear Martin, I must tell you," she continued,
" that the kindness of your grandfather to me, remains un-
changed. I am his companion still. An indescribable ten-
derness and compassion seem to have mingled themselves
with his old regard ; and if I were his only child, I could not
have a gentler father. What former fancy or old habit sur-
vives in this, when his .heart has turned so cold to you, is a
mystery I cannot penetrate ; but it has been, and it is, a hap-
piness to me, that I remained true to him ; that if he should
wake from his delusion, even at the point of death, I am here,
love, to recall you to his thoughts."

Martin looked with admiration on her glowing face, and
pressed his lips to hers.

" I ha\ e sometimes heard, and read," she said, " that those
whose powers had been enfeebled long ago, and whose lives
had faded, as it were, into a dream, have been known to rouse
themselves before death, and inquire for familiar faces once
very dear to them ; but forgotten, unrecognized, hated even,
in the meantime. Think, if with his old impressions of this
man, he should suddenly resume his former self, and find in
him his only friend ! "

" I would not urge you to abandon him, dearest," said
Martin, " though I could count the years we are to wear out
asunder. But the influence this fellow exercises over him,
has steadily increased, I fear."

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 7 1

She could not help admitting that. Steadily, imperceptibly,
and surely, until now it was paramount and supreme. She
herself had none ; and yet he treated her with more affection
than at any previous time. Martin thought the inconsistency
a part of his weakness and decay.

" Does the influence extend to fear ? " said Martin. " Is
he timid of asserting his own opinion in the presence of this
infatuation ? I fancied so just now."

" I have thought so, often. Often when we are sitting
alone, almost as we used to do, and I have been reading a
favorite book to him, or he has been talking quite cheerfully,
I have observed that the entrance of Mr. Pecksniff has
changed his whole demeanor. He has broken off immediately,
and become what you have seen to-day. When we first came
here he had his impetuous outbreaks, in which it was not easy
for Mr. Pecksniff with his utmost plausibility to appease him.
But these have long since dwindled away. He defers to him
in everything, and has no opinion upon any question, but that
which is forced upon him by this treacherous man."

Such was the account — rapidly furnished in whispers, and
interrupted, brief as it was, by many false alarms of Mr. Peck-
sniff's return — which Martin received of his grandfather's de-
cline, and of that good gentleman's ascendancy. He heard
of Tom Pinch, too, and Jonas, too, with not a little about him-
self into the bargain ; for though lovers are remarkable for
leaving a great deal unsaid on all occasions, and very probably
desiring to come back and say it, they are remarkable also
for a wonderful power of condensation, and can, in one way
or other, gave utterance to more language — eloquent language
— in any given short space of time, than all the six hundred
and fifty-eight members in the Commons House of Parlia-
ment of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland ;
who are strong lovers, no doubt, but of their country only,
which makes all the difference ; for in a passion of that kind
(which is not always returned), it is the custom to use as
many words as possible, and express nothing whatever.

A caution from Mr. 'I'apley ; a hasty interchange of fare-
wells, and of something else which the proverb says must not
be told of afterwards ; a white hand held out to Mr. Tapley
himself, which he kissed with the devotion of a knight-errant ;
more farewells, more something else's ; a parting word from
Martin that he would write from London and would do great
things there yet (Heaven knows what, but he quite believed

672 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

it) ; and Mark and he stood on the outside of the Pecksniffian
halls.

" A short interview after such an absence ! " said Martin,
sorrowfully. " But we are well out of the house. We might
have placed ourselves in a false position by remaining there,
even so long, Mark."

"I don't know about ourselves, sir," he returned; "but
somebody else would have got into a false position, if he had
happened to come back again, while we was there. I had the
door all ready, sir. If Pecksniff had showed his head, or had
only so much as listened behind it, I would have caught him
like a walnut. He's the sort of man," added Mr. Tapley,
musing, " as would squeeze soft, I know."

A person who was evidently going to Mr. Pecksniff's house,
passed them at this moment. He raised his eyes at the men-
tion of the architect's name ; and when he had gone on a few
yards, stopped, and gazed at them. Mr. Tapley, also, looked
over his shoulder, and so did Martin ; for the stranger, as he
passed, had looked very sharply at them.

" Who may that be, I wonder ! " said Martin. " The face
seems familiar to me, but I don't know the man."

" He seems to have a amiable desire that his face should
be tolerable familiar to us," said Mr. Tapley, "for he's a
staring pretty hard. He'd better not waste his beauty, for he
ain't got much to spare."

Coming in sight of the Dragon, they saw a travelling car-
riage at the door.

" And a Salisbury carriage, eh ! " said Mr. Tapley. " That's
what he came in, depend upon it. What's in the wind now ?
A new pupil, I shouldn't wonder. P'raps it's a order for an-
other grammar-school, of the same pattern as the last."

Before they could enter at the door, Mrs. Lupin came run-
ning out, and beckoning them to the carriage showed them a
portmanteau with the name of Chuzzlewit upon it.

" Miss Pecksniff's husband that was," said the good
woman to Martin. " I didn't know what terms you might be
on, and was quite in a worry till you came back."

" He and I have never interchanged a word yet," observed
Martin ; " and as I have no wish to be better or worse ac-
quainted with him, I will not put myself in his way. We
passed him on the road, I have no doubt. I am glad he timed
his coming as he did. Upon my word ! Miss Pecksniff's
husband travels gayly ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

673

" A ver}' fine-looking gentleman with him — in the best room
now," whispered Mrs. Lupin, glancing up at the window as
they went into the house. *' He has ordered eveiything that
can be got for dinner ; and has the glossiest mustaches and
whiskers ever you saw."

" Has he ? " cried Martin, " why then we'll endeavor to
avoid him too, in the hope that our self-denial may be strong
enough for the sacrifice. It is only for a few hours," said
Martin, dropping wearily into a chair behind the little screen
in the bar. " Our visit has met with no success, my dear
Mrs. Lupin, and I must go to London."

" Dear, dear ! " cried the hostess.

"Yes. One foul wind no more makes a winter, than one
swallow makes a summer. Lll try it again. Tom Pinch has
succeeded. With his advice to guide me, I may do the same.
I took Tom under my protection once, God save the mark ! "
said Martin, with a melancholy smile , " and promised I would
make his fortune. Perhaps Tom will take me under his pro-
tection now, and teach me how to earn my bread."

CHAPTER XLIV.

FURTHER CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS

AND HIS FRIEND.

It was a special quality, among the many admirable qual-
ities possessed by Mr. Pecksniff, that the more he was found
out, the more hypocrisy he practised. Let him be discom-
forted in one quarter, and he refreshed and recompensed
himself by carrying the war into another. If his workings and
windings were detected by A, so much the greater reason was
there for practising without loss of time on B, if it were only
to keep his hand in. He had never been such a saintly and
improving spectacle to all about him, as after his detection
by Thomas Pinch. He had scarcely ever been at once so
tender in his humanity, and so dignified and exalted in his
virtue, as when young Martin's scorn was fresh and hot upon
him. 43

674

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Having this large stock of superfluous sentiment and mo-
rality on hand which must positively be cleared off at any sacri-
lice, Mr. Pecksniff no sooner heard nis son-in-law announced,
than he regarded him as a kind of wholesale or general order,
to be immediately executed. Descending, therefore, swiftly
to the parlor, and clasping the young man in his arms, he ex-
claimed, with looks and gestures that denoted the perturba-
tion of his spirit :

" Jonas ! My child ! She is well ! There is nothing the
matter .'' "

" What, you're at it again, are you ? " replied his son-in-law.
" Even with me ! Get away with you, will you ? "

" Tell me she is well then," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Tell
me she is well, my Boy ! "

" She's well enough," retorted Jonas, disengaging himself.
" There's nothing the matter with her.''

" There is nothing the matter with her ! " cried Mr. Peck-
sniff, sitting down in the nearest chair, and rubbing up his
hair. " Fie upon my weakness ! I cannot help it, Jonas.
Thank you. 1 am better now. How is my other child ; my
eldest : my Cherrywerrychigo ? " said Mr. Pecksniff, inventing
a playful little name for her, in the restored lightness of his
heart.

" She's much about the same as usual," returned Mr.
Jonas. " She sticks pretty close to the vinegar-bottle. You
know she's got a sweetheart, I suppose ? "

" I have heard of it," said Mr. Pecksniff, " from head-
quarters ; from my child herself. I will not deny that it moved
me to contemplate the loss of my remaining daughter, Jonas
— I am afraid we parents are selfish, I am afraid we are — but
it has ever been the study of my life to qualify them for the
domestic hearth ; and it is a sphere which Cherry will adorn."

" She need adorn some sphere or other," observed his son-
in-law, " for she ain't very ornamental in general."

" My girls are now provided for," said Mr. Pecksniff.
" They are now happily provided for, and I have not labored
in vain ! "

This IS exactly what Mr. Pecksniff would have said, if one
of his daughters had drawn a prize of thirty thousand pounds
in the lotter}^ or if the other had picked up a valuable purse
in the street, which nobody appeared to claim. In either of
these cases, he would have invoked a patriarchal blessing on
the fortunate head, with great solemnity, and would have

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 675

taken immense credit to himself, as having meant it from the
infant's cradle.

" Suppose we talk about something else, now," observed
Jonas, dryly ; " just for a change. Are you quite agreeable ? "

" Quite," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ah, you wag, you naughty
wag ! You laugh at poor old fond papa. Well ! He de-
serves it. And he don't mind it either, for his feelings are
their own reward. You have come to stay with me, Jonas ' "

" No. I've got a friend with me," said Jonas.

" Bring your friend ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in a gush of
hospitality. " Bring any number of your friends ! "

" This ain't the sort of man to be brought," said Jonas,
contemptuously. " I think I see myself ' bringing ' him to
your house, for a treat ! Thank'ee all the same ; but he's a
little too near the top of the tree for that, Pecksniff."

The good man pricked up his ears ; his interest was
awakened. A position near the top of the tree was greatness,
virtue, goodness, sense, genius ; or, it should rather be said,
a dispensation from all, and in itself something immeasurably
better than all ; with Mr. Pecksniff. A man who was able to
look down upon Mr. Pecksniff could not be looked up at, by
that gentleman, with too great an amount of deference, or
from a position of too much humility. So it always is with
great spirits.

" I'll tell you what you may do, if you like," said Jonas:
" you may come and dine with us at the Dragon. We were
forced to come down to Salisbury last night, on some business,
and I got him to bring me over here this morning, in his car-
riage ; at least, not his own carriage, for we had a break-down
in the night, but one we hired instead ; it's all the same.
Mind what you're about, you know. He's not used to all
sorts ; he only mixes with the best ! "

" Some young nobleman who has been borrowing money
of you at good interest, eh .'' " said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his
forefinger facetiously. " I shall be delighted to know the gay
sprig."

" Borrowing ! " echoed Jonas. " Borrowing ! When you're
a twentieth part as rich as he is, you may shut up shop ! We
should be pretty well off, if we could buy his furniture, and
plate, and pictures, by clubbing together. A likely man to
borrow : Mr. Montague ! Why, since 1 was lucky enough
(come ! and I'll say, sharp enough, too) to get a share in the
Assurance Office that he s President of, I've made — never

676 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

mind what I've made," said Jonas, seeming to recover all at
once his usual caution. " You know me pretty well, and I
don't blab about such things. But, Ecod, I've made a trifle."

" Really, my dear Jonas," cried Mr. Pecksniff, with much
warmth, " a gentleman like this should receive some attention.
Would he like to see the church ? Or if he has a taste for the
fine arts — which I have no doubt he has, from the description
you give of his circumstances — I can send him down a few
portfolios. Salisbury Cathedral, my dear Jonas," said Mr.
Pecksniff — the mention of the portfolios, and his anxiety to
display himself to advantage, suggesting his usual phraseology
in that regard — " is an edifice replete with venerable associa-
tions, and strikingly suggestive of the loftiest emotions. It is
here we contemplate the work of bygone ages. It is here we
listen to the swelling organ, as we stroll through the rever-
berating aisles. We have drawings of this celebrated structure
from the North, from the South, from the East, from the
West, from the South-East, from the Nor'- West "

During this digression, and indeed during the whole dia-
logue, Jonas had been rocking on his chair, with his hands in
his pockets, and his head thrown cunningly on one side. He
looked at Mr. Pecksniff now with such shrewd meaning twink-
ling in his eyes, that Mr. Pecksniff stopped, and asked him
what he was going to say.

" Ecod ! " he answered. " Pecksniff, if I knew how you
meant to leave your money, I could put you in the way of
doubling it, in no ■time. It wouldn't be bad to keep a chance
like this snug in the family. But you're such a deep one ! "

" Jonas ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff', much affected, " I am not
a diplomatical character : my heart is in my hand. By far the
greater part of the inconsiderable savings I have accumula-
ted in the course of — I hope — a not dishonorable or useless
career, is already given, devised, and bequeathed (correct me,
my dear Jonas, if I am technically wrong), with expressions
of confidence, which I will not repeat ; and in securities which
it is unnecessary to mention ; to a person whom I cannot,
whom I will not, whom I need not, name." Here he give the
hand of his son-in-law a fervent squeeze, as if he would have
added, "God bless you; be very careful of it when you get
it!"

Mr. Jonas only shook his head and laughed, and seeming
to think better of what he had had in his mind, said, " No.
He would keep his own counsel." But as he observed that

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 677

he would take a walk, Mr. Pecksniff insisted on accompanying
him, remarking that he could leave a card for Mr. Montague,
as they went along, by way of gentleman-usher to himself at
dinner-time. Which he did.

In the course of their walk, Mr. Jonas affected to maintain
that close reserve which had operated as a timely check upon
him during the foregoing dialogue. And as he made no at-
tempt to conciliate Mr. Pecksniff, but, on the contrary, was
more boorish and rude to him than usual, that gentleman, so
far from suspecting his real design, laid himself out to be
attacked with advantage. For it is in the nature of a knave
to thmk the tools with which he works indispensable to
knavery ; and knowing what he would do himself in such a
case, Mr. Pecksniff argued, "if this young man wanted any-
thing of me for his own ends, he would be polite and defer-
ential."

The more Jonas repelled him* in his hints and inquiries,
the more solicitous, therefore, Mr. Pecksniff became to be
initiated into the golden mysteries at which he had obscurely
glanced. Why should there be cold and worldly secrets, he
observed, between relations ? \\'hat was life without confi-
dence ? If the chosen husband of his daughter, the man to
whom he had delivered her with so much pride and hope,
such bounding and such beaming joy : if he were not a green
spot in the barren waste of life, where was that Oasis to be
found ?

Little did Mr. Pecksniff think on what a very green spot
he planted one foot at that moment ! Little did he foresee
when he said, " All is but dust ! " how very shortly he would
come down with his own.

Inch by inch, in his grudging and ill-conditioned way ;
sustained to the life, for the hope of making Mr. Pecksniff
suffer in that tender place, the pocket, where Jonas smarted
so terribly himself, gave him an additional and malicious in-
terest in the wiles he was set on to practise : inch by inch,
and bit by bit, Jonas rather allowed the dazzling prospects of
the Anglo-Bengalee establishment to escape him, than para-
ded them before his greedy listener. And in the same nig-
pardly spirit, he left Mr. Pecksniff to infer, if he chose (which
he did choose, of course), that a consciousness of not having
any great natural gifts of speech and manner himself, rendered
him desirous to have the credit of introducing to Mr. Mon-
tague some one who was well endowed in those respects, and

678

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

SO atone for his own deficiencies. Otherwise he muttered
discontentedly, he would have seen his beloved father-in-law
" far enough off," before he would have taken him into his
confidence.

Primed in this artful manner, Mr. Pecksniff presented
himself at dinner-time in such a state of suavity, benevolence,
cheerfulness, politeness, and cordiality, as even he had per-
haps never attained before. The frankness of the country
gentleman, the refinement of the artist, the good-humored al-
lowance of the man of the world ; philanthropy, forbearance,
piety, toleration, all blended together in a flexible adaptability
to anything and everything ; were expressed in Mr. Peck-
sniff, as he shook hands with the great speculator and capi-
talist.

" Welcome, respected sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, " to our
humble village ! We are a simple people ; primitive clods, Mr.
Montague ; but we can appreciate the honor of your visit, as
my dear son-in-law can testify. It is very strange," said Mr.
Pecksniff, pressing his hand almost reverentially, " but I seem
to know you. That towering forehead, my dear Jonas," said
Mr. Pecksniff aside, " and those clustering masses of rich hair
— I must have seen you, my dear sir, in the sparkling throng."

Nothing was more probable, they all agreed.

" I could have wished," said Mr. Pecksniff, " to have had
the honor of introducing you to an elderly inmate of our
house : to the uncle of our friend. Mr. Chuzzlewit, sir, would
have been proud indeed to have taken you by the hand."

" Is the gentleman here now ? " asked Montague, turning
deeply red.

"He is," said Mr. Pecksniff.

" You said nothing about that, Chuzzlewit."

" I didn't suppose you'd care to hear of it," returned
Jonas. " You wouldn't care to know him, I can promise
you."

" Jonas ! my dear Jonas ! " remonstrated Mr. Pecksniff.
" Really ! "

" Oh ! it's all very well for you to speak up for him," said
Jonas. " You have nailed him. You'll get a fortune by him."

"Oho ! Is the wind in that quarter 1 " cried Montague.
" Ha, ha, ha ! " and here they all laughed — especially Mr.
Pecksniff.

" No, no ! " said that gentleman, clapping his son-in-law
playfully upon the shoulder. " You must not believe all that

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

679

my young relative says, Mr. Montague. You may believe
him in official business, and trust him in official business, but
you must not attach importance to his flights of fancy."

" Upon my life, Mr. Pecksniff," cried Montague, "I attach
the greatest importance to that last observation of his. I
trust and hope it's true. Money cannot be turned and turned
quickly enough in the ordinary course, Mr. Pecksniff. There
is nothing like building our fortunes on the weaknesses of
mankind."

" Oh fie ! Oh fie ! Oh fie, for shame ! " cried Mr. Peck-
sniff. But they all laughed again — especially Mr. Pecksniff.

"I give you my honor that we^o it," said Montague.

" Oh fie, fie ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " You are very pleas-
ant. That I am sure you don't ! That I am sure you don't !
How can you, you know ? "

Again they all laughed in concert ; and again Mr. Peck-
sniff laughed especially.

This was very agreeable indeed. It was confidential,
easy, straightforward, and still left Mr. Pecksniff in the posi-
tion of being in a gentle way the Mentor of the party. The
greatest achievements in the article of cookery that the Drag-
on had ever performed, were set before them ; the oldest and
best v/ines in the Dragon's cellar saw the light on that
occasion ; a thousand bubbles, indicative of the wealth and
station of Mr. Montague in the depths of his pursuits, were
constantly rising to the surface of the conversation ; and they
were as frank and merry as three honest men could be. Mr.
Pecksniff thought it a pity (he said so) that Mr. Montague
should think lightly of mankind and their weaknesses. He
was anxious upon this subject ; his mind ran upon it ; in one
way or another he was constantly coming back to it ; he must
make a convert of him, he said. And as often as Mr. Mon-
tague repeated his sentiment about building fortunes on the
weaknesses of mankind, and added frankly, " M'c do it!"
just as often as Mr. Pecksniff repeated "Oh fie ! Oh fie, for
shame ! I am sure you don't. How can you, you know ? "
laying a greater stress each time on those last words.

The frequent repetition of this playful inquiry on the part
of Mr. Pecksniff, led at last to playful answers on the part of
Mr. Montague ; but after some little sharp-shooting on both
sides, Mr. Pecksniff became grave, almost to tears ; observing
that if Mr. Montague would give him leave, he would drink
the health of his young kinsman, Mr. Jonas: congratulating

68 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

him upon the vakiable and distinguished friendship he had
formed, but envying him, lie would confess, his usefuhiess to
his fellow-creatures. For, if he understood the objects of
that Institution with which he was newly and advantageously
connected— knowing them but imperfectly — they were calcu-
lated to do Good ; and for his (Mr. Pecksniff's) part, if he
could in any way promote them, he thought he would be able
to lay his head upon his pillow eveiy night, with an absolute
certainty of going to sleep at once.

The transition from this accidental remark (for it was
quite accidental, and had fallen from Mr. Pecksniff in the
openness of his soul), to the discussion of the subject as a
matter of business, was easy. Books, papers, statements,
tables, calculations of various kinds, were soon spread out be-
fore them ; and as they were all framed with one object, it is
not surprising that they should have all tended to one end.
But still, whenever Montague enlarged upon the profits of the
office, and said that as long as there were gulls upon the wing
it must succeed, Mr. Pecksniff mildly said " Oh fie ! " — and
might indeed have remonstrated with him, but that he knew
he was joking. Mr. Pecksniff did know he was joking ; be-
cause he said so.

There never had been before, and there never would be
again, such an opportunity for the investment of a consider-
able sum (the rate of advantage increased in proportion to
the amount invested), as at that moment. The only time that
had at all approached it, was the time when Jonas had come
into the concern ; which made him ill-natured now, and in-
clined him to pick out a doubt in this place, and a fiaw in
that, and grumblingly to advise Mr. Pecksniff to think better
of it. The sum which would complete the proprietorship in
in this snug concern, was nearly equal to Mr. Pecksniff's
whole hoard, not counting Mr. Chuzzlewit, that is to say,
whom he looked upon as money in the Bank, the possession
of which inclined him the more to make a dash with his own
private sprats for the capture of such a whale as Mr. Mon-
tague described. The returns began almost immediately, and
were immense. The end of it was, that Mr. Pecksniff agreed
to become the last partner and proprietor in the Anglo-Ben-
galee, and made an appointment to dine with Mr. Montague,
at Salisbury, on the next day but one, then and there to com-
plete the negotiation.

It took so long to bring the subject to this head, that it

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 68 1

was nearly midnight when they parted. When Mr. Pecksniff
walked down stairs to the door, he found Mrs. Lupin stand-
ing there, looking out.

" Ah, my good friend ! " he said : " not a-bed yet ! Con-
templating the stars, Mrs. Lupin ? "

•' It's a beautiful starlight night, sir."

" A beautiful starlight night," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking

up. " Behold the planets, how they shine ! Behold the

those two persons who were here this morning, have left your
house, I hope, Mrs. Lupin .? "

" Yes, sir. They are gone."

" I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Behold the
wonders of the firmament, Mrs. Lupin ! How glorious is the
scene ! When I look up at those shining orbs, I think that
each of them is winking to the other to take notice of the
vanity of men's pursuits. My fellow-men ! " cried Mr. Peck-
sniff, shaking his head in pity ; " you are much mistaken ; my
wormy relatives, you are much deceived ! The stars are per-
fectly contented (I suppose so) in their several spheres. Why
are not you ? Oh ! do not strive and struggle to enrich your-
selves, or to get the better of each other, my deluded friends,
but look up there, with me ! "

Mrs. Lupin shook her head, and heaved a sigh. It was
very affecting.

" Look up there, with me ! " • repeated Mr. Pecksniff,
stretching out his hand ; " with me, an humble individual who
is also an Insect like yourselves. Can silver, gold, or pre-
cious stones, sparkle like those constellations ! I think not.
Then do not thirst for silver, gold, or precious stones ; but
look up there, with me ! "

With those words, the good man patted Mrs. Lupin's
hand between his own, as if he would have added *' think of
this, my good woman ! " and walked away in a sort of ecstasy
or rapture, with his hat under his arm.

Jonas sat in the attitude in which Mr. Pecksniff had left
him, gazing moodily at his friend, who, surrounded by a heap
of documents, was writing something on an oblong slip of
paper.

" You mean to wait at Salisbury over the day after to-mor-
row, do you, then ? " said Jonas.

" You heard our appointment," returned Montague, with-
out raising his eyes. " In any case I should have waited to
see after the boy."

682 MAJi TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

They appeared to have changed places again ; Montague
being in high spirits ; Jonas gloomy and lowering.

" You don't want me, I suppose ? " said Jonas,

" I want you to put your name here," he returned, glancing
at him with a smile, " as soon as I have filled up the stamp.
I may as well have your note of hand for that extra capital.
That's all I want. If you wish to go home, I can manage Mr.
Pecksniff now, alone. There is a perfect understanding be-
tween us."

Jonas sat scowling at him as he wrote, in silence. When
he had finished his writing, and had dried it on the blotting-
paper in his travelling-desk, he looked up, and tossed the pen
towards him.

" What, not a day's grace, not a day's trust, eh ? " said
Jonas, bitterly. "Not after the pains I have taken with to-
night's work .-' "

" To-night's work was a part of our bargain," replied
Montague ; "and so was this."

" You drive a hard bargain," said Jonas, advancing to the
table. " You know best. Give it here ! "

Montague gave him the paper. After pausing as if he
could not make up his mind to put his name to it, Jonas dipped
his pen hastily in the nearest inkstand, and began to write.
But he had scarcely marked the paper when he started back,
in a panic.

" Why, what the devil's this .? " he said. " It's bloody ! "

He had dipped the pen, as another moment showed, into
red ink. But he attached a strange degree of importance to
the mistake. He asked how it had come there, who had
brought it, why it had been brought ; and looked at Montague,
at first, as if he thought he had put a trick upon him. Even
when he used a different pen, and the right ink, he made some
scratches on another paper first, as half-believing they would
turn red also.

" Black enough, this time," he said, handing the note to
Montague. "Good-by."

" Going now ! How do you mean to get away from here ? "

" I shall cross early in the morning, to the high road, be-
fore you are out of bed ; and catch the day-coach, going up.
Good-by ! "

" You are in a hurry ! "

" I have something to do," said Jonas. " Good-by ! "

His friend looked after him as he went out, in surprise,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 683

which gradually gave place to an air of satisfaction and re-
lief.

" It happens all the better. It brings about what I wanted,
without any difficulty. I shall travel home alone."

CHAPTER XLV.

IN WHICH TOM PINCH AND HIS SISTER TAKE A LITTLE PLEAS-
URE ; BUT QUITE IN A DOMESTIC WAY, AND WITH NO CERE-
MONY ABOUT IT.

Tom Pinch and his sister having to part, for the dispatch
of the morning's business, immediately after the dispersion of
the other actors in the scene upon the Wharf with which the
reader has been already made acquainted, had no opportunity
of discussing the subject at that time. But Tom, in his soli-
tary office, and Ruth, in the triangular parlor, thought about
nothing else all day ; and, when their hour of meeting in the
afternoon approached, they were very full of it, to be sure.

There was a little plot between them, that Tom should
always come out of the Temple by one way ; and that was
past the fountain. Coming through Fountain Court, he was
just to glance down the steps leading into Garden Court, and
to look once all round him ; and if Ruth had come to meet
him, there he would see her ; not sauntering, you understand
(on account of the clerks), but coming briskly up, with the
best little laugh upon her face that ever played in opposition
to the fountain, and beat it all to nothing. For, fifty to one,
Tom had been looking: for her in the wrong direction, and
had quite given her up, while she had been tripping towards
him from the first, jingling that little reticule of hers (with
all the keys in it) to attract his wandering observation.

Whether there was life enough left in the slow vegetation
of Fountain Court for the smoky shrubs to have any con-
sciousness of the brightest and purest-hearted little woman in
the world, is a question for gardeners, and those who are
learned in the loves of plants. But, that it was a good thing
for that same paved yard to have such a delicate little figure
flitting through it ; that it passed like a smile from the grimy

684

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

old houses, and the worn flag stones, and left them duller,
darker, sterner than before ; there is no sort of doubt. The
Temple fountain might have leaped up twenty feet to greet
the spring of hopeful maidenhood, that in her person stole on,
sparkling, through the dry and dusty channels of the Law \
the chirping sparrows, bred in Temple chinks and crannies,
might have held their peace to listen to imaginary skylarks,
as so fresh a little creature passed ; the dingy boughs, unused
to droop, otherwise than in their puny growth, might have
bent down in a kindred gracefulness, to shed their benedic-
tions on her graceful head ; old love letters, shut up in iron
boxes in the neighboring offices, and made of no account
among the heaps of family papers into which they had strayed,
and of which, in their degeneracy, they formed a part, might
have stirred and fluttered with a moment's recollection of their
ancient tenderness, as she went lightly by. Anything might
have happened that did not happen, and never will, for the
love of Ruth.

Something happened, too, upon the afternoon of which
the history treats. Nor for her love. Oh no ! quite by acci-
dent, and without the least reference to her at all.

Either she was a little too soon, or Tom was a little too
late — she was so precise in general, that she timed it to half
a minute — but no Tom was there. Well ! But was anybody
else there, that she blushed so deeply, after looking round,
and tripped off down the steps, with such unusual expedi-
tion ?

Why, the fact is, that Mr. Westlock was passing at that
moment The Temple is a public thoroughfare ; they may
write up on the gates that it is not, but so long as the gates
are left open it is, and will be ; and Mr. Westlock had as good
a right to be there as anybody else. But why did she run
away, then ? Not being ill dressed, for she was much too
neat for that, why did she run away ? The brown hair that
had fallen down beneath her bonnet, and had one imper-
tinent imp of a false flower clinging to it, boastful of its
licence before all men, that could not have been the c^use, for
it looked charming. Oh ! foolish, panting, frightened little
heart, why did she run away !

Merrily the tiny fountain played, and merrily the dimples
sparkled on its sunny face. John Westlock hurried after her.
Softly the whispering water broke and fell ; and roguishly the
dimples twinkled, as he stole upon her footsteps.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 685

Oh, foolish, panting, timid little heart, why did she feign
to be unconscious of his coming ! Why wish herself so far
away, yet be so flutteringly happy there !

" I felt sure it was you," said John, when he overtook her,
in the sanctuary of Garden Court. " I knew I couldn't be
mistaken."

She was so surprised.

" You are waiting for your brother " said John. " Let
me bear you company."

So light was the touch of the coy little hand, that he
glanced down to assure himself he had it on his arm. But
his glance, stopping for an instant at the bright eyes, forgot
its first design, and went no farther.

They walked up and down three or four times, speaking
about Tom and. his mysterious employment. Now that was
a very natural and innocent subject, surely. Then why, when-
ever Ruth lifted up her eyes, did she let them fall again im-
mediately, and seek the uncongenial pavement of the court }
They were not such eyes as shun the light ; they were not
such eyes as require to be hoarded to enhance their value.
They were much too precious and too genuine to stand in
need of arts like those. Somebody must have been looking
at them !

They found out Tom, though, quickly enough. This pair
of eyes descried him in the distance, the moment he appeared.
He was staring about him, as usual, in all directions but the
right one ; and was as obstinate in not looking towards them,
as if he had intended it. As it was plain that, being left to
himself, he would walk away home, John Westlock darted off
to stop him.

This made the approach of poor little Ruth, by herself,
one of the most embarrassing of circumstances. There was
Tom, manifesting extreme surprise (he had no presence of
mind, that Tom, on small occasions) ; there was John, making
as light of it as he could, but explaining at the same time,
with most unnecessary elaboration \ and here was she, coming
towards them, with both of them looking at her, conscious of
blushing to a terrible extent, but trying to throw up her eye-
brows carelessly, and pout her rosy lips, as if she were the
coolest and most unconcerned of little women.

Merrily the fountain plashed and plashed, until the dim-
ples, merging into one another, swelled into a general smile,
that covered the whole surface of the basin.

686 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" What an extraordinary meeting ! " said Tom. " I should
never have dreamed of seeing you two together here."

" Quite accidental," John was heard to murmur.

"Exactly," cried Tom ; "that's what I mean, you know.
If it wasn't accidental, there would be nothing remarkable in
it."

" To be sure," said John.

" Such an out-of-the-way place for you to have met in,"
pursued Tom, quite delighted. " Such an unlikely spot ! "

John rather disputed that. On the contrary, he consid-
ered it a very likely spot, indeed. He was constantly pass-
ing to and fro there, he said. He shouldn't wonder if it were
to happen again. His only wonder was, that it had never
happened before.

By chis time Ruth had got round on the farther side of her
brother, and had taken his arm. She was squeezing it now,
as much as to say, " Are you going to stop here all day, you
dear, old blundering Tom ? "

Tom answered the squeeze as if it had been a speech.
"John," he said, "if you'll give my sister your arm, we'll
take her between us, and walk on. I have a curious circum-
stance to relate to you. Our meeting could not have hap-
pened better."

Merrily the fountain leaped and danced, and merrily the
smiling dimples twinkled and expanded more and more, until
they broke into a laugh against the basin's rim, and vanished.

" Tom," said his friend, as they turned into the noisy
street, '■ I have a proposition to make. It is, that you and
your sister — if she will so far honor a poor bachelor's dwell-
ing— give me a great pleasure, and come and dine with me."

" What, to-day ? " cried Tom.

" Yes, to-day. It's close by, you know. Pray, Miss Pinch,
insist upon it. It will be very disinterested, for I have noth-
ing to give you."

" Oh ! you must not believe that, Ruth," said Tom, " He
is the most tremendous fellow, in his housekeeping, that I
ever heard of, for a single man. He ought to be Lord Mayor.
Well ! what do you say? Shall we go ? "

" If you please, Tom," rejoined his dutiful litde sister.

" But I mean," said Tom, regarding her with smiling ad-
miration, " is there anything you ought to wear, and haven't
got } I am sure I don't know, John : she may not be able to
take her bonnet off, for anything I can tell."

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 687

There was a great deal of laughing at this, and there were
divers compliments from John Westlock — not compliments, he
said at least (and really he was right), but good, plain, hon-
est truths, which no one could deny. Ruth laughed, and all
that, but she made no objection ; so it was an engagement.

" If I had known it a little sooner," said John, " 1 would
have tried another pudding. Not in rivalry ; but merely to
exalt that famous one. I wouldn't on any account have had
it made with suet."

" Why not .'' " asked Tom.

" Because that cookery book advises suet," said John
Westlock ; '* and ours was made with tiour and eggs."

" Oh <rood gracious ! " cried Tom. " Ours was made with
flour and eggs, was it 1 Ha, ha, ha ! A beefsteak pudding
made with flour and eggs ! Why anybody knows better than
that, /know better than that ! Ha, ha, ha ! "

It is unnecessary to say that Tom had been present at the
making of the pudding, and had been a devoted believer in it
all through. But he was so delighted to have this joke against
his busy little sister, and was tickled to that degree at having
found her out, that he stopped in Temple Bar to laugh ; and
it was no more to Tom, that he was anathematized and
knocked about by the surly passengers, than it would have
been to a post ; for he continued to exclaim with unabated
good humor, "flour and eggs ! A beefsteak pudding made
with fiour and eggs ! " until John Westlock and his sister
fairly ran away from him, and left him to have his laugh out
by himself ; which he had ; and then came dodging across the
crowded street to them, with such sweet temper and tender-
ness (it was quite a tender joke of Tom's) beaming in his face,
God bless it, that it might have purified the air, though
Temple Bar had been, as in the golden days gone by,
embellished with a row of rotting human heads.

There are snug chambers in those Inns where the bachelors
live, and, for the desolate fellows they pretend to be, it is
quite surprising how well they get on. John was very pathetic
on the subject of his dreary life, and the deplorable make-
shifts and apologetic contrivances it invohed ; .but he really
seemed to make himself pretty comfortable. His rooms were
the perfection of neatness and convenience at any rate ; and
if he were anything but comfortable, the fault was certahily
not theirs.

He had no sooner ushered Tom and his sister into his

688 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

best room (where there was a beautiful little vase of fresh
flowers on the table, all ready for Ruth. — Just as if he had
expected her, Tom said), than seizing his hat, he bustled out
again, in his most energetically bustling way ; and presently
came hurrying back, as they saw through the half-opened
door, attended by a fiery-faced matron attired in a crunched
bonnet, with particularly long strings to it hanging down her
back ; in conjunction with whom, he instantly began to lay the
cloth for dinner, polishing up the wine glasses with his own
hands, brightening the silver top of the pepper-castor on his
coat-sleeve, drawing corks and filling decanters, with a skill
and expedition that were quite dazzling. And as if, in the
course of this rubbing and polishing, he had rubbed an
enchanted lamp or a magic ring, obedient to which there were
twenty thousand supernatural slaves at least, suddenly there
appeared a being in a white waistcoat, carr\-ing under his arm
a napkin, and attended by another being with an oblong box
upon his head, from which a banquet, piping hot, was taken
out and set upon the table.

Salmon, lamb, peas, innocent young potatoes, a cool salad,
sliced cucumber, a tender duckfing, and a tart — all there.
They all came at the right time. Where they came from,
didn't appear ; but the oblong box was constantly going and
coming, and making its arrival known to the man'in the white
waistcoat by bumping modestly against the outside of the
door ; for, after its first appearance, it entered the room no
more. He was never surprised, this man ; he never seemed
to wonder at the extraordinar}- things he found in the box ;
but took them out with a face expressive of a steady purpose
and impenetrable character, and put them on the table. He
was a kind man ; gentle in his manners, and much interested
in what they ate and drank. He was a learned man, and
knew the fiavor of John Westlock's private sauces, which he
softly and feelingly described, as he handed the little bottles
round. He was a grave man, and a noiseless ; for dinner
being done, and wine and fruit arranged upon the board, he
vanished, box and all, like something that had never been.

" Didn't I say he was a tremendous fellow in his house-
keeping .?" cried Tom. " Bless my soul ! It's wonderful."

" Ah, Miss Pinch," said John. " This is the bright side
of the life we lead in such a place. It would be a dismal life,
indeed, if it didn't brighten up to-day."

" Don't believe a word he says,'"' cried Tom. " He lives

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

689

here like a monarch, and wouldn't change his mode of life foi
any consideration. He only pretends to grumble."

No, John really did not appear to pretend \ for he was un-
commonly earnest in his desire to ha\e it understood that he
was as dull, solitar\-, and uncomfortable on ordinary occasions
as an unfortunate young man could, in reason, be. It was a
wretched life, he said, a miserable life. He thought of getting
rid of the chambers as soon as possible ; and meant, in fact,
to put a bill up very shortly.

"Well ! " said Tom Pinch, " I don't know where vou can
go, John, to be more comfortable. That's all 1 can say.
What do you say, Ruth ? "

Ruth trifled with the cherries on her plate, and said that
she thought Mr. Westlock ought to be quite happy, and that
she had no doubt he was.

Ah, foolish, panting, frightened little heart, how timidly
she said it !

" But you are forgetting what you hnd to tell, Tom : what
occurred this morning," she added in the same breath.

"So I am," said Tom. "We have been so talkative on
other topics, that I declare I have not had tim.e to think of it.
I'll tell it you at once, John, in case I should forget it
altogether."

On Tom's relating what had passed upon the wharf, his
friend was very much surprised, and took such a great interest
in the narrative as Tom could not quite understand. He
believed he knew the old lady whose acquaintance they had
made, he said ; and that he might venture to say, from their
description of her, that her name was Gamp. But of what
nature the communication could have been which Tom had
borne so unexpectedly ; why its delivery had been entrusted
to him ; how it happened that the parties were involved to-
gether ; and what secret lay at the bottom of the whole affair ;
perplexed liim very much. Tom had been sure of his taking
some interest in the matter ; but was not prepared for the
strong interest he showed. It held John Westlock to the
subject, even after Ruth had left the room ; and evidently
made him anxious to pursue it further than as a mere subject
of conversation.

" I shall remonstrate with my landlord, of course," said
Tom : " though he is a very singular secret sort of man, and
not likely to afford me much satisfaction ; even if he knew
what was in the letter." 44

690

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Which you may swear he did," John interposed.

" You think so ? "

" I am certain of it."

" Well ! " said Tom, " I shall remonstrate with him when
I see him (he goes in and out in a strange way, but I will try
to catch him to-morrow morning), on his having asked me to
execute such an unpleasant commission. And I have been
thinking, John, that if I went down to Mrs. What's-her-name's
in the City, where I was before, you know — Mrs. Todgers's —
to-morrow morning, I might find poor Mercy Pecksniff there,
perhaps, and be able to explain to her how I came to have any
hand in the business."

" You are perfectly right, Tom," returned his friend, after
a short interval of reflection. " You cannot do better. It is
quite clear to me that whatever the business is, there is little
good in it ; and it is so desirable for you to disentangle your-
self from any appearance of wilful connection with it, that I
would counsel you to see her husband, if you can, and wash
your hands of it, by a plain statement of the facts. I have a
misgiving that there is something dark at work here, Tom. I
will tell you why, at another time : when I have made an in-
quiry or two myself."

All this sounded very mysterious to Tom Pinch. But as he
knew he could rely upon his friend, he resolved to follow this
advice.

Ah, but it would have been a good thing to have had a
coat of invisibility, wherein to have watched little Ruth, when
she was left to herself in John Westlock's chambers, and
John and her brother were talking thus, over their wine !
The gentle way in which she tried to get up a little conversa-
tion with the fiery-faced matron in the crunched bonnet, who
was waiting to attend her ; after making a desperate rally in
regard of her dress, and attiring herself in a washed-out yellow
gown with sprigs of the same upon it, so that it looked like
a tesselated work of pats of butter. That would have been
pleasant. The grim and griffin-like inflexibility with which the
fiery-faced matron repelled these engaging advances, as pro-
ceeding from a hostile and dangerous power, who could have
no business there, unless it were to deprive her of a customer,
or suggest what became of the self-consuming tea and sugar,
and other general trifles. That would have been agreeable.
The bashful, winning, glorious curiosity, with which litde
Ruth, when fiery-face was gone, peeped into the books and

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 691

nick-nacks that were lying about, and had a particular inter-
est in some delicate paper matches on the chimney-piece :
wandering who could have made them. That would have
been worth seeing. The faltering hand with which she tied
those flowers together ; with which, almost blushing at her
own fair self as imaged in the glass, she arranged them in her
breast, and looking at them with her head aside, now half
resolved to take them out again, now half resolved to leave
them where they were. That would have been delightful !

John seemed to think it all delightful : for coming in v.ith
Tom to tea, he took his seat beside her like a man enchanted.
And when the tea-service had been removed, and Tom, sitting
down at the piano, became absorbed in some of his old organ
tunes, he was still beside her at the open window, looking out
upon the twilight.

There is little enough to see, in Furnival's Inn. It is a
shady, quiet place, echoing to the footsteps of the stragglers
who have business there ; and rather monotonous and gloomy
on summer evenings. What gave it such a charm to them,
that they remained at the window as unconscious of the flight
of time as Tom himself, the dreamer, while the melodies
which had so often soothed his spirit were hovering again about
him! What power infused into the fading light, the gathering
darkness ; the stars that here and there appeared ; the even-
ing air, the City's hum and stir, the very chiming of the old
church clocks ; such exquisite enthralment, that the divinest
regions of the earth spread out before their eyes could not
have held them captive in a stronger chain ?

The shadows deepened, deepened, and the room became
quite dark. Still Tom's fingers wandered over the keys of the
piano ; and still the window had its pair of tenants.

At length, her hand upon his shoulder, and her breath
upon his forehead, roused Tom from his reverie.

" Dear me ! " he cried, desisting with a start. " I am
afraid I have been very inconsiderate and unpolite."

Tom little thought how much consideration and politeness
he had shown !

" Sing something to us, my dear," said Tom. " Let us
hear your voice. Come."

John Westlock added his entreaties with such earnestness
that a flinty heart alone could have resisted them. Hers was
not a flinty heart. Oh dear no ! Quite another thing.

So down she sat, and in a pleasant voice began to sing the

6 g 2 MAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

ballads Tom loved well. Old rhyming stories, with here and
there a pause for a few simple chords, such as a harper might
have sounded in the ancient time while looking upward for
the current of some half-remembered legend ; words of old
poets, wedded to such measures that the strain of music
might have been the poet's breath, giving utterance and ex-
pression to his thoughts ; and now a melody so joyous and
light-hearted, that the singer seemed incapable of sadness,
until in her inconstancy (oh wicked little singer !) she relapsed
and broke the listeners' hearts again ; these were the simple
means she used to please them. And that these simple
means prevailed, and she did please them, let the still dark-
ened chamber, and its long-deferred illumination witness.

The candles came at last, and it was time for moving
homeward. Cutting paper carefully, and rolling it about the
stalks of those same flowers, occasioned some delay ; but
even this was done in time, and Ruth was ready.

" Good night ! " said Tom. "A memorable and delight-
ful visit, John ! Good night ! "

John thought he would walk with them.

" No, no. Don't ! " said Tom. " What nonsense ! We
can get home very well alone. I couldn't think of taking you
out."

But John said he would rather.

" Are you sure you would rather ? " said Tom. " I am
afraid you only say so out of politeness."

John being quite sure, gave his arm to Ruth, and led her
out. Fiery-face, who was again in attendance, acknowledged
her departure with so cold a curtsey that it was hardly visible ;
and cut Tom, dead.

Their host was bent on walking the whole distance, and
would not listen to Tom's dissuasions. Happy time, happy
walk, happy parting, happy dreams ! But there are some sweet
day-dreams, so there are, that put the visions of the night to
shame.

Busily the Temple fountain murmured in the moonlight,
while Ruth lay sleeping, with her flowers beside her; and
John Westlock sketched a portrait— whose ?— from memory.

MA /? T/jV CHUZZLE WIT.

693

CHAPTER XLVI.

JN WHICH MISS PECKSNIFF MAKES LOVE, MR. JONAS MAKES
WRATH, MRS. GAMP MAKES TEA, AND MR. CHUFFEY MAKES
BUSINESS.

On the next day's ofificial duties coming to a close, Tom
hurried home without losing any time by the way ; and after
dinner and a short rest, sallied out again, accompanied by
Ruth, to pay his projected visit to Todgers's. Tom took
Ruth with him, not only because it was a great pleasure to
him to have her for his companion whenever he could, but
because he wished her to cherish and comfort poor Merry ;
which she, for her own part (having heard the wretched his-
tory of that young wife from Tom), was all eagerness to do.

" She was so glad to see me," said Tom, " that I am sure
she will be glad to see you. Your sympathy is certain to be
much more delicate and acceptable than mine."'

" I am very far from being certain of that, Tom," she re-
plied ; " and indeed you do yourself an injustice. Indeed you
do. But I hope she may like me, Tom."

"Oh, she is sure to do that !" cried Tom, confidently.

" What a number of friends I should have, if everybody
was of your way of thinking. Shouldn't I, Tom, dear ? " said
his little sister, pinching him upon the cheek.

Tom laughed, and said that with reference to this particu-
lar case he had no doubt at all of finding a disciple in Merry.
"For you women," said Tom, "you women, my dear, are so
kind, and in your kindness have sucli nice perception ; you
know so well how to be affectionate and full of solicitude with-
out appearing to be ; your gentleness of feeling is like your
touch : so light and easy, that the one enables you to deal with
wounds of the mind as tenderly as the other enables you to
deal with wounds of the body. You are such "

" My goodness, Tom ! " his sister interposed. " You ought
to fall in love immediately."

Tom put this observation off good humoredly, but some-
what gravely too ; and they were soon very chatty again on
some other subject.

As they were passing through a street in the City, not very

694 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

far from Mrs. Todgers's place of residence, Ruth checked Tom
before a window of a large Upholstery and Furniture Ware-
house, to call his attention to something very magnificent and
ingenious, displayed there to the best advantage, for the ad-
miration and temptation of the public. Tom had hazarded
some most erroneous and extravagantly wrong guess in rela-
tion to the price of this article, and had joined his sister in
laughing heartily at his mistake, when he pressed her arm in
his, and pointed to two persons at a little distance, who were
looking in at the same window with a deep interest in the
chests of drawers and tables.

" Hush ! " Tom whispered. " Miss Pecksniff, and the young
gentleman to whom she is going to be married."

" Why does he look as if he was going to be buried, Tom } "
inquired his little sister.

"Why, he is naturally a dismal young gentleman, I be-
lieve,"' said Tom : " but he is very civil and inoffensive."

" I suppose they are furnishing their house," whispered
Ruth.

" Yes, I suppose they are," replied Tom. " We had bet-
ter avoid speaking to them."

They could not ver}' well avoid looking at them, however,
especially as some obstruction on the pavement, at a little dis-
tance, happened to detain them where they were for a few
moments. Miss Pecksniff had quite the air of having taken
the unhappy Moddle captive, and brought him up to the con-
templation of the furniture like a lamb to the altar. He of-
fered no resistance, but was perfectly resigned and quiet. The
melancholy depicted in the turn of his languishing head, and
in his dejected attitude, was extreme ; and though there was
a full-sized four-post bedstead in the window, such a tear stood
trembling in his eye, as seemed to blot it out.

"Augustus, my love," said Miss Pecksniff, " ask the price
of the eight rose-wood chairs, and the loo table."

" Perhaps they are ordered already," said Augustus. " Per-
haps they are Another's."

" They can make more like them, if they are," rejoined
Miss Pecksniff.

" No, no, they can't," said Moddle. " It's impossible ! "

He appeared for a moment, to be quite overwhelmed and
stupefied by the prospect of his approaching happiness ; but
recovering, entered the shop. He returned immediately :
saying in a tone of despair :

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT 695

" Twenty-four pound ten ! "

Miss Pecksniff, turning to receive this announcement, be-
came conscious of the observation of Tom Pinch and his
sister.

" Oh, really ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, glancing about her, as
if for some convenient means of sinking into the earth.
" Upon my word, I — there never was such a — to think that
one should be so very — Mr. Augustus Moddle, Miss Pinch !"

Miss Pecksniff was quite gracious to Miss Pinch in this
triumphant introduction ; exceedingly gracious. She was
more than gracious ; she was kind and cordial. Whether the
recollection of the old service Tom had rendered her in knock-
ing Mr. Jonas on the head, had wrought this change in her
opinions ; or whether her separation from her parent had rec-
onciled her to all human-kind, or to all that increasing por-
tion of human-kind which was not friendly to him ; or whether
the delight of having some new female acquaintance to whom
to communicate her intersting prospects, was paramount to
every other consideration ; cordial and kind Miss Pecksniff
was. And twice Miss Pecksniff kissed Miss Pinch upon the
cheek.

" Augustus — Mr. Pinch, you know. My dear girl ! " said
Miss Pecksniff, aside. " I never was so ashamed in my life."

Ruth begged her not to think of it.

" I mind your brother less than anybody else," simpered
Miss Pecksniff. " But the indelicacy of meeting any gentle-
man under such circumstances ! Augustus, my child, did
you "

Here Miss Pecksniff whispered in his ear. The suffering
Moddle repeated :

" Twenty-four pound ten ! "

" Oh, you silly man ! I don't mean them," said Miss
Pecksniff, " I am speaking of the "

Here she whispered him again.

" If it's the same patterned chintz as that in the window ;
thirty-two, twelve, six," said Moddle, with a sigh. "And very
dear."

Miss Pecksniff stopped him from giving any further expla-
nation by laying her hand upon his lips, and betraying a soft
embarrassment. She then asked Tom Pinch which way he
was going.

" I was going to see if T could find your sister." answered
Tom, " to whom I wished to say a few words. We were go-

696

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

ing to Mrs. Todgers's, where I had the pleasure of seeing her
before."

" It's of no use your going on, then," said Cherr)% " for we
have not long left there ; and I know she is not at home.
But I'll take you to my sister's house, if you please. Augus-
tus— Mr. Moddle, I mean — and myself, are on our way to
tea there, now. You needn't think of /;/;«," she added, nod-
ding her head, as she observed some hesitation on Tom's
part. " He is not at home."

" Are you sure ? " asked Tom.

" Oh, I am quite sure of that. I don't want any more re-
venge," said Miss Pecksniff, expressively. " But, really, I
must beg you two gentlemen to walk on, and allow me to fol-
low with Miss Pinch. My dear, I never was so taken by sur-
prise ! "

In furtherance of this bashful arrangement, Moddle ga:e
his arm to Tom ; and Miss Pecksniff linked her own in
Ruth's.

" Of course, my love," said Miss Pecksniff, " it would be
useless for me to disguise, after what you have seen, that I
am about to be united to the gentleman who is walking with
your brother. It would be in vain to conceal it. What do
you think of him ? Pray, let me have your candid opinion."

Ruth intimated that, as far as she could judge, he was a
very eligible swain.

" I am curious to know," said Miss Pecksniff', with lo-
quacious frankness, " whether you have observed, or fancied,
in this ver}' short space of time, that he is of a rather melan-
choly turn ? "

" So very short a time," Ruth pleaded.

" No, no ; but don't let that interfere with your answer,"
returned Miss Pecksniff. " I am curious to hear what you
say."

Ruth acknowledged that he had impressed her at first
sight as looking " rather low."

" No, really".' " said Miss Pecksniff. " Well ! that is quite
remarkable ! Everybody says the same. Mrs. Todgers says
the same ; and Augustus informs me that it is quite a joke
among the gentlemen in the house. Indeed, but for the pos-
itive commands I have laid upon him, I believe it would have
been the occasion of loaded fire-arms being resorted to more
than once. What do you think is the cause of his appearance
of depression ? "

MARTIN CIICZZLEVVIT. ■ 697

Ruth thought of several things ; such as his digestion, his
tailor, his mother, and the like. But hesitating to give utter-
ance to any one. of them, she refrained from expressing an
opinion.

" My dear," said Miss Pecksniff ; " I shouldn't wish it to
be known, but I don't mind mentioning it to you, having known
your brother for so many years — I refused Augustus three
times. He is of a most amiable and sensiti\e nature ; always
ready to shed tears, if you look at him, which is extremely
charmin"; ; and he has never recovered the effect of that crueltv.
For it was cruel," said Miss Pecksniff, with a self-convicting
candor that might have adorned the diadem of her own papa.
" There is no doubt of it. I look back upon my conduct now
with blushes. 1 always liked him. I felt that he was not to
me what the crowd of young men who had made proposals had
been, but something ver)- different. Then what right had I to
refuse him three times .'' "

" It was a severe trial of his fidelity, no doubt," said Ruth.
" My dear," returned Miss Pecksniff". '' It was wrong.
But such is the caprice and thoughtlessness of our sex ! Let
me be a warning to you. Don't tr)' the feelings of any one
who makes you an offer, as I have tried the feelings of Augus-
tus ; but if you ever feel towards a person as I really felt to-
wards him, at the \&x\ time when I was dri\-ing him to dis-
traction, let that feeling find expression, if that person throws
himself at your feet, as Augustus Moddle did at mine. Think,"
said Miss Pecksniff", " what my feelings would have been, if I
had goaded him to suicide, and it had got into the papers !"

Ruth observed that she would have been full of remorse,
no doubt.

" Remorse ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, in a sort of snug and
comfortable penitence. "What my remorse is at this moment,
even after making reparation by accepting him, it would be
impossible to tell you ! Looking back upon my giddy self, my
dear, now that I am sobered down and made thoughtful, by
treading on the ver}' brink of matrimony ; and contemplating
myself as I was when I was like you are now ; I shudder. I
shudder. What is the consequence of my past conduct ?
Until Augustus leads me to the altar, he is not sure of me. I
have blighted and withered the affections of his heart to that
extent that he is not sure of me. I see that preying on his
mind and feeding on his vitals. What are the reproaches of
my conscience, when I see this in the man I love ! "

698 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Ruth endeavored to express some sense of her unbounded
and flattering confidence ; and presumed that she was going
to be married soon.

" Very soon indeed," returned Miss Pecksniff. " As soon
as our house is ready. We are furnishing now as fast as we
can."

In the same vein of confidence, Miss Pecksniff ran through
a general inventory of the articles that were already bought,
with the articles that remained to be purchased ; what gar-
ments she intended to be married in, and where the ceremony
was to be performed ; and gave Miss Pinch, in short (as she
told her), early and exclusive information on all points of in-
terest connected with the event.

While this was going forward in the rear, Tom and Mr.
Moddle walked on, arm in arm, in the front, in a state of
profound silence, which Tom at last broke : after thinking for
a long time what he could say that should refer to an indiffer-
ent topic, in respect of which he might rely, with some degree
of certainty, on Mr. Moddle's bosom being unruffled.

" I wonder," said Tom, " that in these crowded streets,
the foot-passengers are not oftener run over."

Mr. Moddle, with a dark look, replied :

"The drivers won't do it."

" Do you mean 1 " Tom began —

"That there are some men," interrupted Moddle, with a
hollow laugh, " who can't get run over. They live a charmed
life. Coal wagons recoil from them, and even cabs refuse
to run them down. Ah ! " said Augustus, marking Tom's as-
tonishment. " There are such men. One of 'em is a friend of
mine."

" Upon my word and honor," thought Tom, "this )'oung
gentleman is in a state of mind which is very serious indeed ! "
Abandoning all idea of conversation, he did not venture to
say another word ; but he Avas careful to keep a tight hold
upon Augustus's arm, lest he should fly into the road, and
making another, and a more successful attempt, should get up
a private little Juggernaut before the eyes of his betrothed.
Tom was so afraid of his committing this rash act, that he had
scarcely ever experienced such mental relief as when they ar-
rived in safety at Mrs. Jonas Chuzzlewit's house.

" Walk up, pray, Mr. Pinch," said Miss Pecksniff : for
Tom halted, irresolutely, at the door.

" I am doubtful whether I should be welcome," replied

MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT. 699

Tom, " or, I ought rather to say, I have no doubt about it. I
will send up a message, I think."

" But what nonsense that is ! " returned Miss Pecksniff,
speaking apart to Tom. " He is not at home, I am certain ;
I know he is not ; but Merry hasn't the least idea that you
ever "

"No," interrupted Tom. " Nor would I have her know
it, on any account. I am not so proud of that scuffle, I assure
you."

" Ah, but then 3-ou are so modest, you see," returned Miss
Pecksniff, with a smile. " But pray walk up. If you don't
wish her to know it, and do wish to speak to her, pray walk
up. Pray walk up. Miss Pinch. Don't stand here."

Tom still hesitated ; for he felt that he was in an aw^kward
position. But Cherry passing him at this juncture, and lead-
ing his sister up stairs,' and the house-door being at the same
time shut behind them, he follow^ed without quite knowing
whether it was well or ill-judged so to do.

" Merry, my darling ! " said the fair Miss Pecksniff, open-
ing the door of the usual sitting-room. " Here are Mr. Pinch
and his sister come to see you ! I thought we should find
you here, Mrs. Todgers ! How do you do, Mrs. Gamp ? And
how do you do, Mr. Chuffey, though it's of no use asking you
the question, I am well aware."

Honoring each of these parties, as she severally addressed
them, with an acid smile. Miss Charity presented Mr. Moddle.

" I believe you have seen hi}?i before," she pleasantly ob-
served. 'Augustus, my sweet child, bring me a chair."

The sweet child did as he was told ; and was then about
to retire into a corner to mourn in secret, when Miss Charity,
calling him in an audible whisper " a little pet," gave him
leave to come and sit beside her. It is to be hoped, for the
general cheerfulness of mankind, that such a doleful little pet
was never seen as Mr. Moddle looked when he complied. So
despondent was his temper, that he showed no outward thrill
of ecstasy, when Miss Pecksniff placed her lily hand in his,
and concealed this mark of her favor from the vulgar gaze,
by covering it with a corner of her shawl. Indeed, he was
infinitely more rueful then than he had been before ; and,
sitting uncomfortably uprii^ht in his chair, surveyed the com-
pany with watery eyes, which seemed to sa}^, without the aid
of language, " Oh, good gracious ! look here ! Won't some
kind Christian help me ! "

700

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

But the ecstasies of Mrs. Gamp were sufficient to have fur-
nished forth a score of young lovers ; and they were chiefly
awakened by the sight of Tom Pinch and his sister. Mrs.
Gamp was a lady of that happy temperament which can be
ecstatic without any other stimulating cause than a general
desire to establish a large and profitable connection. She
added daily so many strings to her bow, that she made a per-
fect harp of it ; and upon that instrument she now began to
perform an extemporaneous concerto.

" Why, goodness me ! " she said, " Mrs. Chuzzlewit ! To
think as I should see beneath this blessed ouse, which well I
know it, Miss Pecksniff, my sweet young lady, to be a ouse
as there is not a many like, worse luck, and wishin' it ware
not so, which then this tearful walley would be changed into
a fiowerin' guardian, Mr. Chuffey ; to think as I should see
beneath this indiwidgle roof, identically comin', Mr. Pinch (I
take the liberty, though almost unbeknown), and do assure
you of it, sir, the smilinest and sweetest face as ever, Mrs.
Chuzzlewit, I see, exceptin' yourn, my dear good lady, and
your good lady's too, sir, Mr. Moddle, if I may make so bold
as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as needn't
look through millstones, Mrs. Todgers, to find out wot is
wrote upon the wall behind. Which no offence is meant,
ladies and gentlemen ; none bein' took, I hope. To think as
I should see that smilinest and sweetest face which me and
another friend of mine, took notige of among the packages
down London Bridge, in this promiscous place, is a surprige
in-deed ! "

Having contrived, in this happy manner, to invest every
member of her audience with an individual share and imme-
diate personal interest in her address, Mrs. Gamp dropped
several curtseys to Ruth, and smilingly shaking her head a
great many times, pursued the thread of her discourse :

" Now, ain't we rich in beauty this here joyful arternoon,
I'm sure. I knows a lady, which her name, I'll not deceive
you, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, is Harris, her husband's brother bein'
six foot three, and marked with a mad bull in Wellington
boots upon his left arm, on account of his precious mother
haviii' been worrited by one into a shoemaker's shop, when
in a sitiwation which blessed is the man as has his quiver full
of sech, as many times I've said to Gamp when words has
roge betwixt us on account of the expense — and often have I
said to Mrs. Harris, 'Oh, Mrs. Harris, ma'am ! your counte-

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 70I

nance is quite a angel's ! ' Which, but for Pimples, it would
be. 'No, Sairey Gamp,' says she, 'you best of hard-working
and industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any price,
which underpaid you are, quite diff 'rent. Harris had it done
afore marriage at ten and six,' she says, ' and wore it faith-
ful next his heart 'till the color run, when the money was
declined to be give back, and no arrangement could be come
to. But he never said it was a angel's, Sairey, wotever he
might have thought.' If Mrs. Harris's husband was here
now," said Mrs. Gamp, looking round, and chuckling as slie
dropped a general curtsey, " heVl speak out plain, he would,
and his dear wife would be the last to blame him ! For il
ever a woman lived as know'd not wot it was to form a wish
to pizon them as had good looks, and had no reagion give
her by the best of husbands, Mrs. Harris is that ev'niy dis-
pogician ! "

With these words the worthy woman, who appeared to
have dropped in to take tea as a delicate little attendon,
rather than to have any engagement on the premises in an
official capacity, crossed to Mr. Chuffey, who was seated in
the same corner as of old, and shook him by the shoulder.

" Rouge yourself, and look up ! Come ! " said Mrs.
Gamp. " Here's company, Mr. Chuffey."

" I am sorry for it," cried the old man, looking humbly
round the room. " I know I'm in the way. I ask pardon,
but I've nowhere else to go to. Where is she ? "

Merry went to him.

" Ah ! " said the old man, patting her on the cheek.
" Here she is. Here she is ! She's never hard on poor old
Chuffey. Poor old Chuff ! "

As she took her seat upon a low chair by the old man's
side, and put herself within the reach of his hand, she looked
up once at Tom. It was a sad look that she cast upon him,
though there was a faint smile trembling on her face. It was
a speaking look, and Tom knew what it said. " You see
how misery has changed me. I can feel for a dependant nota,
and set some value on his attachment."

" Ay, ay ! " cried Chuffey in a soothing tone. " Ay, ay,
ay ! Never mind him. It's hard to bear, but never mind
him. He'll die one day. There are three hundred and sixty-
five days in the year — three hundred and sixty-six in leap
year — and he may die on nnv one of 'em."

" You're a wearing old soul, and that's the sacred truth,''

702

AIA R TIN CHUZZL ElVIT.

said Mrs. Gamp, contemplating him from a little distance
with anything but favor, as he continued to mutter to himself.
" It's a pity that you don't know wot you say, for you'd tire
your own patience out if you did, and fret yourself into a
happy releage for all as knows you."

" His son," murmured the old man lifting up his hand.
" His son ! "

"Well I'm sure ! " said Mrs. Gamp, "you're a settlin' of
it, Mr. Chuffey. To your satigefaction, sir, I hope. But I
wouldn't lay a new pin-cushion on it myself, sir, though you
are so well informed. Drat the old creetur, he's a layin'
down the law tolerable confident, too ! A deal he knows of
sons ! Or darters either ! Suppose you was to favor us with
some remarks on twins, sir, would you be so good ! "

The bitter and indignant sarcasm which Mrs. Gamp con-
veyed into these taunts was altogether lost on the uncon-
scious Chuffey, who appeared to be as little cognizant of their
delivery as of his having given Mrs. Gamp offence. But that
high-minded woman being sensitively alive to any invasion of
her professional province, and imagining that Mr. Chuffey
had given utterance to some prediction on the subject of
sons, which ought to have emanated in the first instance from
herself as the only lawful authority, or which should at least
have been on no account proclaimed without her sanction and
concurrence, was not so easily appeased. ■ She continued to
sidle at Mr. Chuffey with looks of sharp hostility, and to defy
him with many other ironical remarks, uttered in that low
key which commonly denotes suppressed indignation ; until
the entrance of the tea-board, and a request from Mrs. Jonas
that she would make tea at a side-table for the party that had
unexpectedly assembled, restored her to herself. She smiled
again, and entered on her ministration with her own particular
urbanity.

"And quite a family it is to make tea for," said Mrs.
Gamp ; " and wot a happiness to do it ! My good young
'ooman " — to the servant-girl — " p'raps somebody would like
to try a new-laid egg or two, not biled too hard. Likeways,
a few rounds o' buttered toast, first cuttin' off the crust, in
consequence of tender teeth, and not too many of 'em ; which
Gamp himself, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, at one blow, being in liquor,
struck out four, two single, and two double, as was took by
Mrs. Harris for a keepsake, and is carried in her pocket at
this present hour, along with two cramp-bones, a bit o' ginger,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

703

and a grater like a blessed infant's shoe, in tin_^ with a
little heel to put the nutmeg in ; as many times I've seen and
said, and used for caudle when required, within the month."

As the privileges of the side-table — besides including the
small prerogatives of sitting next the toast, and taking two
cups of tea to other people's one, and always taking them
at a crisis, that is to say, before putting fresh water into the
tea-pot, and after it had been standing for some time —
also comprehended a full view of the company, and an oppor-
tunity of addressing them as from a rostrum, Mrs. Gamp dis-
charged the functions entrusted to her with extreme good-humor
and affability. Sometimes, resting her saucer on the palm of
her outspread hand, and supporting her elbow on the table,
she stopped between her sips of tea to favor the circle with a
smile, a wink, a roll of the head, or some other mark of notices
and at those periods, her countenance was lighted up with a
degree of intelligence and vivacity, which it was almost im-
possible to separate from the benignant influence of distilled
waters.

But for Mrs. Gamp, it would have been a curiously silent
party. Miss Pecksniff only spoke to her Augustus, and to
him in whispers. Augustus spoke to nobody, but sighed for
every one, and occasionally gave himself such a sounding slap
upon the forehead as would make Mrs. Todgers, who was
rather nervous, start in her chair with an involuntarv excla-
mation. Mrs. Todgers was occupied in knitting, and seldom
spoke. Poor Merry held the hand of cheerful little Ruth be-
tween her own, and listening with evident pleasure to all she
said, but rarely speaking herself, sometimes smiled, and some-
times kissed her on the cheek, and sometimes turned aside to
hide the tears that trembled in her eyes. Tom felt this change
in her so much, and was so glad to see how tenderly Ruth
dealt with her, and how she knew and answered to it, that he
had not the heart to make any movement towards their de-
parture, although he had long since given utterance to all he
came to say.

The old clerk, subsiding into his usual state, remained pro-
foundly silent, while the rest of the little assembly were thus
occupied, intent upon the dreams, whatever they might be,
which hardly seemed to stir the surface of his sluggish
thoughts. The bent of these, dull fancies combining probably
with the silent feasting that was going on about him, and
some struggling recollection of the last approach to revelry

704 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

he had witnessed, suggested a strange question to his mind.
He looked round upon a sudden, and said,

" Who's lying dead up stairs ? "

" No one," said Merry, turning to him. "What is the
matter ? We are all here."

" All here ! " cried the old man, " all here ! Where is he
then — my old master, Mr. Chuzzlewit, who had the only son .''
Where is he ? "

" Hush ! Hush ! " said Merr}'^, speaking kindly to him.
" That happened long ago. Don't you recollect ? "

" Recollect ! " rejoined the old man, with a cry of grief,
"as if I could forget ! As if I ever could forget ! "

He put his hand up to his face for a moment ; and then
repeated, turning round exactly as before.

" Who's lying dead up stairs .'' "

" No one ! " said Meny.

At first he gazed angrily upon her, as upon a stranger who
endeavored to deceive him ; but, peering into her face, and
seeing that it was indeed she, he shook his head in sorrowful
compassion.

" You think not. But they don't tell you. No, no, poor
thing ! They don't tell you. Who are these, and why are
they merry-making here, if there is no one dead ? Foul play !
Go see who it is ! "

She made a sign to them not to speak to him, which in-
deed they had little inclination to do ; and remained silent
herself. So did he for a short time ; but then he repeated
the same question with an eagerness that had a peculiar terror
in it.

"There's some one dead," he said, "or dying; and I want
to know who it is. Go see, go see ! Where's Jonas .'' "

" In the country," she replied.

The old man gazed at her as if he doubted what she said, or
had not heard her ; and, rising from his chair, walked across
the room and up stairs whispering as he went, " P'oul
play ! " They heard his footsteps overhead, going up into
that corner of the room in which the bed stood (itwas there
old Anthony had died) ; and then they heard him coming down
again immediately. His fancv was not so strong or wild that
it pictured to him anvthing in the deserted bed-chamber which
was not there ; for he returned much calmer, and appeared
to have satisfied himself.

" They don't tell you," he said to Merry in his quavering

MA R TIN CIIUZZLE WIT.

705

voice, as he sat down again, and patted her upon the head.
"They don't tell me either; but I'll watch, I'll watch. They
shall not hurt you • don't be frightened. When you have sat
up watching, I have sat up watching too. Ay, ay, I have ! "
he piped out, clenching his weak^ shrivelled hand. " Many
a night I ha\^e been ready ! "

He said this with such trembling gaps and pauses in his
want of breath, and said it in his jealous secrecy so closely
in her ear, that little or nothing of it was understood by the
visitors. But they had heard and seen enough of the old
man to be disquieted, and to have left their seats and gathered
about him ; thereby affording Mrs. Gamp, whose professional
coolness was not so easily disturbed, an eligible opportunity
for concentrating the whole resources of her powerful mind
and appetite upon the toast and butter, tea and eggs. She
had brought them to bear upon those viands with such vigor
that her face was in the highest state of inflammation, when she
now (there being nothing left to eat or drink) saw fit to inter-
pose.

" Why, highty tighty, sir ! " cries Mrs. Gamp, " is tiiese
your manners ? You want a pitcher of cold water throw'd
over you to bring you around ; that's my belief ; and if you
was under Betsy Prig you'd have it, too, I do assure you, Mr.
Chuffey. Spanish Flies is the only thing to draw this non-
sense out of you ; and if anybody wanted to do you a kind-
ness, they'd clap a blister of 'em on your head, and put a
mustard poultige on your back. Who's dead, indeed ! It
wouldn't be no grievous loss if some one was, I think ! "

" He's quiet now, Mrs. Gamp," said Merry. " Don't dis-
turb him."

"Oh, bother the old wictim, Mrs. Chuzzlewit," replied
that zealous lady, " I ain't no patience with him. You give
him his own way too much by half. A worritin' wexagious
creetur ! "

No doubt with the view of carrj-ing out the precepts she
enforced, and "bothering the old wictim " in practice as well
as in theory, Mrs. Gamp took him by the collar of his coat,
and gave him some dozen or two of hearty shakes backward
and forward in his chair ; that exercise being considered by
the disciples of the Prig school of nursing (who are very
numerous among professional, ladies) as exceedingly condu-
cive to repose, and highly beneficial to the performance of the
nervous functions. Its effect in this instance was to render

45

7o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

the patient so giddy and addle-headed, that he could say
nothing more ; which Mrs. Gamp regarded as the triumph of
her art.

" There ! " she said, loosening the old man's cravat, in
consequence of his being rather black in the face, after this
scientific treatment. " Now, I hope, you're easy in your mind.
If you should turn at all faint, we can soon rewive you, sir, I
promige you. Bite a person's thumbs, or turn their fingers
the wrong way," said Mrs. Gamp, smiling with the conscious-
ness of at once imparting pleasure and instruction to her
auditors, " and they comes to, wonderful, Lord bless you ! "

As this excellent woman had been formally entrusted with
the care of Mr. Chuffey on a previous occasion, neither Mrs.
Jonas nor anybody else had the resolution to interfere directly
with her mode of treatment : though all present (Tons Pinch
and his sister especially) appeared to be disposed to differ
from her views. For such is the rash boldness of the unin-
itiated, that they will frequently set up some monstrous ab-
stract principle, such as humanity, or tenderness, or the like
idle folly, in obstinate defiance of all precedent and usage ;
and will even venture to maintain the same against the per-
sons who have made the precedents and established the usage,
and who must therefore be the best and most impartial judges
of the subject.

" Ah, Mr. Pinch ! " said Miss Pecksniff. " It all comes of
this unfortunate marriage. If my sister had not been so pre-
cipitate, and had not united herself to a Wretch, there would
have been no Mr. Chuffey in the house."

" Hush ! " cried Tom. " She'll hear you."

" I should be very sorry if she did hear me, Mr. Pinch,"
said Cherry, raising her voice a little ; " for it is not in my
nature to add to the uneasiness of any person, far less of my
own sister, /know what a sister's duties are, Mr. Pinch, and
I hope I always showed it in my practice. Augustus, my dear
child, find my pocket-handkerchief, and give it to me.

Augustus obeyed, and took Mrs. Todgers aside to pour
his griefs into her friendly bosom.

" I am sure, Mr. Pinch," said Charity, looking after her
betrothed and glancing at her sister, " that I ought to be very
grateful for the blessings I enjoy, and those which are yet in
store for me. When I contrast Augustus " — here she was
modest and embarrassed — " who, I don't mind saying to you,
is all softness, mildness, and devotion, with the detestable

MAKTTN CHUZZLEIVIT. 707

man who is my sister's husband ; and when I think, Mr. Pinch,
that in the dispensations of this world, our cases mig^ht have
been reversed, I have much to be thankful for, indeed, and
much to make me liumble and contented."

Contented she might have been, but humble she assur-
edly was not. Her face and manner experienced something
so widely different from humility, that Tom could not help
understanding and despising the base motives that were work-
ing in her breast. He turned away, and said to Ruth, that it
was time for them to go.

" I will write to your husband," said Tom to Merry, "and
explain to him, as I would have done if I had met him here,
that if he has sustained any inconvenience through my means,
it is not my fault : a postman not being more innocent of the
news he brings, than I was when I handed him that letter."

" I thank you ! " said Merry. " It may do some good."

She parted tenderly from Ruth, who with her brother was
in the act of leaving the room, when a key was heard in the
lock of the door below, and immediately afterwards a quick
footstep in the passage. Tom stopped, and looked at Merry.

It was Jonas, she said timidly.

" I had better not meet him on the stairs, perhaps," said
Tom, drawing his sister's arm through his, and coming back
a step or two. " I'll wait for him here, a moment."

He had scarcely said it when the door opened, and Jonas
entered. His wife came forward to receive him ; but he put
her aside with his hand, and said in a surly tone :

" I didn't know you"d got a party."

As he looked, at the same time, either by accident or de^
sign, towards Miss Pecksniff ; and as Miss Pecksniff was only
too delighted to quarrel with him, she instantly resented it.

"Oh dear !" she said, rising. "Pray don't let us intrude
upon your domestic happiness ! That would be a pity. We
have taken tea, sir, in your absence ; but if you will have the
goodness to send us a note of the expense, receipted, we
shall be happy to pay it. Augustus, my love, we will go, if
you please. Mrs. Todgers, unless you wish to remain here,
we shall be happy to take you with us. It would be a pity,
indeed, to spoil the bliss which this gentleman always brings
with him, especially into his own home."

"Charity! Charity !" remonstrated her sister, in such a
heartfelt tone that she might have been imploring her to show
the cardinal virtue whose name she bore.

7o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" Merr\% my clear, I am much obliged to you for your ad-
vice," returned Miss Pecksniff, with a stately scorn — by the
way, she had not been offered any — "but / am not his
slave "

" No, nor wouldn't have been if you could," interrupted
Jonas. " We know all about it."

" What did you say, sir 1 " cried Miss Pecksniff, sharply.

"Didn't you hear.'' " retorted Jonas, lounging down upon
a chair. " I am not a-going to say it again. If you like to
stay, you may stay. If you like to go, you may go. But if
you stay, please to be civil."

" Beast ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, sweeping past him.
" Augustus ! He is beneath your notice ! " Augustus had
been making some faint and sickly demonstration of shaking
his fist. "Come away, child," screamed Miss Pecksniff, "I
command you ! "

The scream was elicited from her by Augustus manifest-
ing an intention to return and grapple with him. But Miss
Pecksniff giving the fiery youth a pull, and Mrs. Todgers giv-
ing him a push, they all three tumbled out of the room to-
gether, to the music of Miss Pecksniff's shrill remonstrances.

All this time, Jonas had seen nothing of Tom and his sis-
ter ; for they were almost behind the door when he opened it,
and he had sat down with his back towards them, and had
purposely kept his eyes upon the opposite side of the street
during his altercation with Miss Pecksniff, in order that his
seeming carelessness might increase the exasperation of that
wronged young damsel. His wife now faltered out that Tom
had been waiting to see him ; and Tom ad\anced.

The instant he presented himself, Jonas got up from his
chair, and swearing a great oath, caught it in his grasp, as if
he would have felled Tom to the ground with it. As he most
unquestionably would have done, but that, his very passion
and surprise made him irresolute, and gave Tom, in his calm-
ness, an opportunity of being heard.

" You have no cause to be violent, sir," said Tom.
" Though what I wish to say relates to your own affairs, I
know nothing of them, and desire to know nothing of them."

Jonas was too enraged to speak. He held the door open;
and stamping his foot upon the ground, motioned Tom away.

" As you cannot suppose," said Tom, " that I am here,
with any view of conciliating you or pleasing myself, I am
quite indifferent to your reception of me, or your dismissal of

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

709

me. Hear what I have to say, if you are not a madman ! I
gave you a letter the other day, when you were about to go
abroad."

" You Thief, you did ! "' retorted Jonas. " I'll pay you for
the carriage of it one day, and settle an old score besides. I
will ! "

" Tut, tut," said Tom, " you needn't waste words or
threats. I wish you to understand — plainly because I would
rather keep clear of you and everything that concerns you ;
not because I have the least apprehension of your doing me any
injury, which would be weak indeed — ^that I am no party to
the contents of that letter. That I know nothing of it. That
I was not even aware that it was to be delivered to you ; and
that I had it from "

" By the Lord ! " cried Jonas, fiercely catching up the
chair, "I'll knock your brains out, if you speak another
word."

Tom, nevertheless, persisting in his intention, and opening
his lips to speak again, Jonas set upon him like a sa\age ;
and in the quickness and ferocity of his attack would have
surely done him some grievous injury, defenceless as he was,
and embarrassed by having his frightened sister clinging to
his arm, if Merry had not run between them, crying to Tom
for the love of Heaven to leave the house. The auonv of lliis
poor creature, the terror of his sister, the impossibility of mak-
ing himself audible, and the equal impossibility of bearing up
against Mrs. Gamp, who threw herself upon him like a feather-
bed, and forced him backwards down the stairs bv the mere
oppression of her dead-weight, prevailed. Tom shook tl;e
dust of that house off his feet, without having mentioned
Nadgett's name.

If the name could have passed his lips; if Jonas, in the
insolence of his vile nature, had ne\ er roused him to do that
old act of manliness, for which (and not for his last offence)
be hated him with such malignity ; if Jonas could have
learned, as then he could and would have learned, through
Tom's means, what unsuspected spy there was upon him ; he
would have been saved from the commission of a Guilty Deed,
then drawing on towards its black accomplishment. But the
fatality was of his own working ; the pit was of his own dig-
ging; the gloom that gathered round him, was the shadow of
his own life.

His wife had closed the door, and thrown herself before it,

7 I o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

on the ground, upon her knees. She held up her hands to
him now, and besought him not to be harsh with her, for she
had interposed in fear of bloodshed.

" So, so ! " said Jonas, looking down upon her, as he
fetched his breath. " These are your friends, are they, when
I am away t You plot and tamper with this sort of people,
do you .'' "

" No, indeed ! I have no knowledge of these secrets, and
no clue to their meaning. I have never seen him since I left
home but once — but twice — before to-day."

" Oh ! " sneered Jonas, catching at this correction. " But
once, but twice, eh t Which do you mean ? Twice and once,
perhaps. Three times ! How many more, you lying jade } "

As he made an angrv motion with his hand, she shrunk
down hastily. .A suggestive action ! Full of a cruel truth

" How many more times .-' " he repeated.

" No more. The other morning, and to-day, and once be-
sides."

He was about to retort upon her, when the clock struck.
He started, stopped, and listened ; appearing to revert to
some engagement, or to some other subject, a secret within
his own breast, recalled to him by this record of the progress
of the hours.

" Don't lie there ! Get up ! "

Having helped her to rise, or rather hauled her up by the
arm, he went on to say:

" Listen to me, young lady ; and don't whine when you
have no occasion, or I may make some for you. If I find him
in my house again, or find that you have seen him in anybody
else's house, you'll repent it. If you are not deaf and dumb
to everything that concerns me, unless you have my leave to
hear and speak, you'll repent it. If you don't obey exactly
what I order, you'll repent it. Now, attend. What's the
time } "

" It struck Eight a minute ago."

He looked towards her intently ; and said, with a labored
distinctness, as if he had got the words off by heart :

" I have been travelling day and night, and am tired. I
have lost some money, and that don't improve me. Put my
supper in the little off-room below, and have the truckle-bed
made. I shall sleep there to-night, and maybe to-morrow
night ; and if I can sleep all day to-morrow, so much the
better, for I've got trouble to sleep off, if I can. Keep the

MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT. 7 1 1

house quiet, and don't call me. IMind ! Don't call me !
Don t let anybody call me. Let me lie there."

She said it should be done. Was that all }

" All what ! You must be prying and questioning ? " he
angrily retorted. "What more do you want to know.?"

" I want to know nothing, Jonas, but what you tell me.
All hope of conhdence between us has long deserted me ! "

" Ecod, I should hope so ! " he muttered.

" But if you will tell me what you wish, I will be obedient
and will tiy to please you. I make no merit of that, for 1 have
no friend in my father or my sister, but am quite alone. I am
very humble and submissive. You told me you would break
my spirit, and you have done so. Do not break my heart
too ! "

She ventured, as she said these words, to lay her hand
upon his shoulder. He suffered it to rest there, in his exulta-
tion ; and the whole mean, abject, sordid, pitiful soul of the
man, looked at her, for the moment, through his wicked eyes.

For the moment only ; for, wiih the same hurried return
to something within himself, he bade her, in a surly tone, show
her obedience by executing his commands without dela\-.
When she had withdrawn, he paced up and down the room
several times ; but always with his right hand clenched, as if
it held something ; which it did not, being empty. When he
was tired of this, he threw himself into a chair, and thought-
fully turned up the sleeve of his right arm, as if he were rather
musing about its strength than examining it ; but, even then,
he kept the hand clenched.

He was brooding in this chair, with his eyes cast down
upon the ground, when Mrs. Gamp came in to tell him that
the little room was ready. Not being quite sure of her re-
ception after interfering in the quarrel, Mrs. Gamp, as a
means of interesting and propitiating her patron, affected a
deep solicitude in Mr. Chuffey.

" How is he now, sir t " she said.

" Who t " cried Jonas, raising his head, and staring at her.

"To be sure?" returned the matron with a smile and a
curtsey. " What am I thinking of ! You wasn't here, sir,
when he was took so strange. I never see a poor dear creetur
took so strange in all my life, except a patient much about the
same age, as I once nussed, which his calling was the custom-
'us, and his name was Mrs. Harris's own father, as pleasant a
singer, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as ever you heerd, with a voice like a

712 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Jew's-liarp in the bass notes, that it took six men to hold at
sech times, foaming frightful."

"Chuffey, eh?" said Jonas carelessly, seeing that she
went up to the old clerk, and looked at him. " Ha ! "

"The creetur's head's so hot," said Mrs. Gamp, "that
you might eat a flat-iron at it. And no wonder . I am sure,
considerin' the things he said ! "

" Said ! " cried Jonas. " What did he say ? "

Mrs. Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some
check upon its palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in
a faint voice :

" The awfullest things, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd !
Which Mrs. Harris's father never spoke a word when took so,
some does and some don't, except sayin' when he come round,
'Where is Sairey Gamp.?' But raly, sir, when Mr. Chuffey
comes to ask who's lyin' dead up stairs, and — "

" Who's lying dead up stairs ! " repeated Jonas, standing
aghast.

Mrs. Gamp nodded, made as if she were swallowing, and
went on.

" Who's lying dead up stairs ; such was his Bible language ;
and where was Mr. Chuzzlewit as had the only son ; and when
he goes up stairs a looking in the beds and wandering about
the rooms, and comes down again a whisperin' softly to his-
self about foul play and that ; it give me sich a turn, I don't
deny it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, that I never could have kep myself
up but for a little drain of spirits, which I seldom touches, but
could always wish to know where to find, if so dispoged, never
knowin' wot may happen next, the world bein' so uncertain."

" Why, the old fool's mad ! " cried Jonas, much dis-
turbed.

"That's my opinion, sir," said Mrs. Gamp, "and I will
not deceive you. I believe as Mr. Chuffey, sir, rekwires atten-
tion (if 1 may make so bold), and should not have his liberty
to wex and worrit your sweet lady as he doos."

" Why, who minds what he says ? " retorted Jonas.

" Still he is worritin' sir," said Mrs. Gamp. " No one
don't mind him, but he is a ill conwenience."

" Ecod you're right," said Jonas, looking doubtfully at the
subject of this conversation. " I have half a mind to shut
him up."

Mrs. Gamp rubbed her hands, and smiled, and shook her
head, and sniffed expressively, as scenting a job.

MAR TIN CHL ^ZZLE WIT. 7 1 3

" Could you — could you take care of such an idiot now, in
some spare room up stairs ? " asked Jonas.

" Me and a friend of mine, one off, one on, could do it,
Mr, C'huzzlewit," replied the nurse ; " our charges not bein'
high, but wishin' they was lower, and allowance made con-
siderin' not strangers. Me and Betsey Prig, sir, would under-
take Mr. Chuffey, reasonable," said Mrs. Gamp, looking at
him with her head on one side, as if he had been a piece of
goods, for which she was driving a bargain ; " and give every
satigefaction. Betsey Prig has nussed a many lunacies, and
well she knows their ways, which puttin' 'em right close afore
the fire, when fractious, is the certainest and most compog-
ing."

While Mrs. Gamp discoursed to this effect, Jonas was
walking up and down the room again, glancing covertly at
the old clerk, as he did so. He now made a stop, and said :

" I must look after him, I suppose, or I may have him
doing some mischief. What say you ? "

"^Nothin' more likely ! " Mrs. Gamp replied. " As well I
have experienged, I do assure you, sir."

*' Well ! Look after him for the present, and — let me see
— three days from this time let the other woman come here,
and we'll see if we can make a bargain of it. About nine or
ten o'clock at night, say. Keep your eye upon him in the
meanwhile, and don't talk about it. He's as mad as a March
hare ! "

" Madder ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " A deal madder ! "

" See to him, then ; take care that he does no harm ; and
recollect what I have told you."

Leaving Mrs. Gamp in the act of repeating all she had
been told, and of producing in support of her memory and
trustworthiness, many commendations selected from among
the most remarkable opinions of the celebrated Mrs. Harris,
he descended to the little room prepared for him, and pulling
off his CO It and his boots, put them outside the door before
he locked it. In locking it, he was careful so to adjust the
key, as to baffle any curious person wlio might try to peep in
through the keyhole ; and when he had taken these precau-
tions, he sat down to his supper.

" Mr. Chuff," he muttered, " it'll be pretty easy to be even
with you. It's of no use doing things by halves, and as long
as I stop here, I'll take good care of you. When I'm off yon
may say what you please. But it's a d — d strange thing,"' he

714 MAR TIX C NUZZLE WIT.

added, pushing away his untouched plate, and striding mood-
ily to and fro, " that his drivellings should have taken this
turn just now."

After pacing the room from end to end several times, he
sat down in another chair.

" I say just now, but for anything I know, he may have
been carrying on the same game all along. Old dog! He
shall be gagged ! "

He paced the room again in the same restless and
unsteady way ; and then sat down upon the bedstead, lean-
ing his chin upon his hand, and looking at the table. When
he had looked at it for a long time, he remembered his supper •
and resuming the chair he had first occupied, began to eat
with great rapacity, not like a hungrj^ man, but as if he were
determined to do it. He drank too, roundly ; sometimes
stopping in the middle of a draught to walk, and change his
seat and walk again, and dart back to the table and fall to, in
a ravenous hurr)-, as before.

It was now growing dark. As the gloom of evening,
deepening into night, came on, another dark shade emerging
from within him seemed to overspread his face, and slowly
change it. Slowly, slowly ; darker and darker ; more and
more haggard ; creeping over him by little and little ; until it
was black night within him and without.

The room in which he had shut himself up, was on the
ground floor, at the back of the house. It was lighted by a
dirty skylight, and had a door in the wall, opening into a 'nar-
row covered passage or blind-alley, verv' little frequented after
five or six o'clock in the evening, and not in much use as a
thoroughfare at any hour. But it had an outlet in a neigh-
boring street.

The ground on which this chamber stood, had. at one time,
not within his recollection, been a yard ; and had been con-
verted to its present purpose, for use as an office. But the
occasion for it died with the man who built it ; and saving
that it had sometimes served as an apolog\' for a spare bed-
room, and that the old clerk had once held it (but that was
years ago) as his recognized apartment, it had been little
trouble by ,-\nthony Chuzzlewit and Son. It was a blotched,
stained, mouldering room, like a vault ; and there were water-
pipes running through it, which at unexpected times in the
niofht, when other things were quiet, clicked and gurgled
suddenly, as if they were choking.

ATA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 7 i ^

The door into llie court had not been open for a long,
long time ; but the key liad always hung in one place, and
there it hung now. He was prepared for its being rusty ; for
he had a little bottle of oil in his pocket and the feather of a
pen, with which he lubricated the key, and the lock too, care-
fully. All this while he had been without his coat, and had
nothing on his feet but his stockings. He now got softly into
bed, in the same state, and tossed from side to side to tumble
it. In his restless condition, that was easily done.

When he arose, he took from his portmanteau, which l;e
had caused to be carried into that place when he came home,
a pair of clumsy shoes, and put them on his feet ; also a pair
of leather leggings, such as countrymen are used to wear, with
straps to fasten them to the waistband. In these he dressed
himself at leisure. Lastly, he took out a common frock of
coarse dark jean, which he drew over his own underclothing ;
and a felt hat — he had purposely left his own up stairs. He
then sat himself down by the door, with the key in his hand,
waiting.

He had no light ; the time was dreary, long, and awful.
The ringers were practising in a neighboring church, and the
clashing of the bells was almost maddening. Curse the
clamoring bells, they seemed to know that he was listening
at the door, and to proclaim it in a crowd of voices to all the
town ! Would they never be still 1

They ceased at last, and then the silence was so new and
terrible that it seemed the prelude to some dreadful noise.
Footsteps in the court ! Two men. He fell back from the
door on tiptoe, as if they could luue seen him through its
wooden panels.

They passed on, talking (he could make out) about a skel-
eton which had been dug up yesterday, in some work of exca-
vation near at hand, and was supposed to be that of a mur-
dered man. " So murder is not always found out, you see,"
they said to one another as they turnecl the corner.

Hush !

He put the key into the lock and turned it. The door
resisted for a while, but soon came stiffly o\nt\\ ; mingling with
the sense of fever in his mouth, a taste of rust, and dust, and
earth, and rotting wood. He looked out ; passed out ; locked
it after him.

All was clear and quiet, as he tied away.

7 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

CHAPTER XLVII.

CONCLUSION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS

FRIEND.

Did no man passing through the dim streets shrink without
knowing why, when he came steaHng up behind them ? As lie
glided on, had no child in its sleep an indistinct perception of
a guilty shadow falling on its bed, that troubled its innocent
rest ? Did no dog howl, and strive to break its rattling chain,
that it might tear him ; no burrowing rat, scenting the work
he had in hand, essay to gnaw a passage after him, that it
might hold a greedy revel at the feast of his providing ?
When he looked back, across his shoulder, was it to see if his
quick footsteps still fell dry upon the dusty pavement, or were
already moist and clogged with the red mire that stained the
naked feet of Cain !

He shaped his course for the main western road, and soon
reached it, riding a part of the way, then alighting and walk-
ing on again. He travelled for a considerable distance upon
the roof of a stage-coach, which came up while he was a-foot,
and when it turned out of his road, bribed the driver of a
return post-chaise to take him on with him ; and then made
across the countrv' at a run, and saved a mile or two before
he struck again into the road. At last, as his plan was, he
came up with a certain lumbering, slow, night-coach, which
stopped wherever it could, and was stopping then at a public-
house, while the guard and coachman ate and drank within.

He bargained for a seat outside this coach, and took it.
And he quitted it no more until it was within a few miles of
his destination, but occupied the same place all night.

All night ! It is a common fancy that nature seems to
sleep by night. It is a false fancy, as who should know better
than he ?

The fishes slumbered in the cold, bright, glistening streams
and. rivers, perhaps ; and the birds roosted on the branches of
the trees ; and in their stalls and pastures beasts were quiet ;
and human creatures slept. But what of that, when the solemn
night was watching, when it never winked, when its darkness
watched no less than its light ! The stately trees, the moon

MAR TIN Ciri 'ZZLE WIT.

717

and shining stars, the softly-stirring wind, the over-shadowed
lane, the broad, bright country-side, tirev all kept watch. There
was not a blade of growing grass or corn, but watched ; and
the quieter it was, the more intent and fixed its watch upon
him seemed to be.

And yet he slept. Riding on among those sentinels of
God, he slept, and did not change the purpose of his journey.
If he forgot it in his troubled dreams, it came up steadily, and
woke him. But it never woke him to remorse, or to abandon-
ment of his design.

He dreamed at one time that he was lying calmly in his
bed, thinking of a moonlight night and the noise of wheels,
when the old clerk put his head in at the door, and beckoned
him. At this signal he arose immediately — being already
dressed, in the .clothes he actually wore at that time — and ac-
companied him into a strange city, where the names of the
streets were written on the walls in characters quite new to
him ; which gave him no surprise or uneasiness, for he re-
membered in his dream to have been there before. Although
these streets were very precipitous, insomuch that to get from
one to another, it was necessary to descend great heights by
ladders that were too short, and ropes that moved deep bells,
and swung and swayed as they were clung to, the danger gave
him little emotion beyond the first thrill of terror : his anxie-
ties being concentrated on his dress, which was quite unfitted
for some festival that was about to be holden there, and in
which he had come to take a part. Already, great crowds
began to fill the streets, and in one direction myriads of peo-
ple came rushing down an interminable perspective, strewing
flowers and making way for others on white horses, when a
terrible figure started from the throng, and cried out that it
was the Last Day for all the world. The cry being spread,
there was a wild hurrying on to Judgment ; and the press be-
came so great that he and his companion (who was constantly
changing, and was never the same man two minutes together,
though he never saw one man come or another go), stood
aside in a porch, fearfully surveying the multitude ; in which
there were many faces that he knew, and many that he did
not know, but dreamed he did ; when all at once a struggling
head rose up among the rest — livid and deadlv, but the same
as he had known it — and denounced him as having appointed
that direful day to happen. They closed together. As he
strove to free the hand in which he held a club, and strike the

7i8 MARTIN CUUZZLEWIT.

the blow he had so often thought of, he started to the knowl-
edge of his waking purpose and the rising of the sun.

The sun was welcome to him. There were life and mo-
tion, and a world astir, to divide the attention of Day. It
was the eye of Night : of wakeful, watchful, silent, and atten-
ti\e Night, with so much leisure for the observation of his
wicked thoughts : that he dreaded most. There is no glare
in the night. Even Glory shows to small advantage in the
night, upon a crowded battle-field. How then shows Glory's
blood-relation, bastard Murder !

Ay ! He made no compromise, and held no secret with
himself now. Murder. He had come to do it.

" Let me get down here," he said.

" Short of the town, eh } " observed the coachman,

" I may get down where I please, I suppose .'' "

" You got up to please yourself, and may get down to
please yourself. It won't break our hearts to lose you, and it
wouldn't have broken 'em if we'd never found you. Be a
little quicker. That's all."

The guard had alighted, and was waiting in the road to
take his money. In the jealousy and distrust of what lie con-
templated, he thought this man looked at him with more than
common curiosity.

"What are you staring at ? " said Jonas.

" Not at a handsome man," returned the guard. " If you
want your fortune told, I'll tell you a bit of it. You won't be
drowned. That's a consolation for you."

Before he could retort or turn away, the coachman put
an end to the dialogue by giving him a cut with his whip, and
bid him get out for a surly dog. The guard jumped up to
his seat at the same moment, and they drove off, laughing ;
leaving him to stand in the road, and shake his fist at them.
He was not displeased though, on second thoughts, to have
been taken for an ill-conditioned common countr\'-fellow ; but
rather congratulated himself upon it as a proof that he was
well disguised.

Wandering into a copse by the road-side — but not in that
place : two or three miles off — he tore out from a fence a thick,
hard,, knotted stake ; and, sitting down beneath a hay-rick,
spent some time in shaping it, in peeling olT the bark, and
fashioning its jagged head, with his knife.

The day passed on. Noon, afternoon, evening. Sunset.

At that serene and peaceful time two men, riding in a gig,

MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT.

V9

came out of the city by a road not much frequented. It was
the day on which Mr. Pecksniff had asjreed to dine with Mon-
tague. He had kept his appointment, and was now going
home. His host was riding with him for a short distance :
meaning to return by a pleasant track, which Mr. Pecksniff
had engaged to show him, through some fields. Jonas knew
their plans. He had hung about the inn-yard while they
were at dinner and had heard their orders given.

They were loud and merry in their conversation, and might
have been heard at some distance : far above the sound of
their carriage wheels or horses' hoofs. They came on noisily,
to where a stile and footpath indicated their point of separa-
tion. Here they stoppecl.

" It's too soon. Much too soon," said Mr. Pecksniff.
" But this is the. place, my dear sir. Keep the path, and go
straight through the little wood you'll come to. The path is
narrower there, but you can't miss it. When shall I see you
again .' Soon I hope .'' "

"I hope so," replied Montague.

" Good-night ! "

" Good-night, and a pleasant ride ! "

So long as Mr. Pecksniff was in sight, and turned his head,
at intervals, to salute him, Montague stood in the road smiling,
and waving his hand. But when his new partner had disap-
peared, and this show was no longer necessary, he sat down
on the stile with looks so altered, that he might have grown
ten years older in the meantime.

He was flushed with wine, but not gay. His scheme had
succeeded, but he showed no triumph. The effort of sustain-
ing his difficult part before his late companion had fatigued
him, perhaps, or it may be, that the evening whispered to his
conscience, or it may be (as it has been) that a shadowy veil
was dropping round him, closing out all thoughts but the
presentiment and vague foreknowledge of impending doom.

If there be fluids, as we know there are, which, conscious
of a coming wind, or rain or frost, will shrink and strive to hide
themselves in their glass arteries ; may not that subtle liquor
of the blood perceive, by properties within itself, that hands
are raised to waste and spill it ; and in the veins of men run
cold and dull as his did, in that hour !

So cold, although the air was warm : so dull, although the
sky was bright : that he rose up shivering, from his seat, and
hastily resumed his walk. He checked himself as hastily :

po MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

undecided whether to pursue the footpath which was lonely
and retired, or to go back by the road.

He took the footpath.

The glory of the departing sun was on his face. The
music of the birds was in his ears. Sweet wild flowers bloom-
ed about him. Thatched roofs of poor men's homes were in
the distance ; and an old gray spire, surmounted by a Cross,
rose up between him and the coming night.

He had never read the lesson which these things con-
veyed : he had ever mocked and turned away from it \ but,
before going down into a hollow place, he looked round, once,
upon the evening prospect, sorrowfully. Then he went down,
down, down, into the dell.

It brought him to the wood ; a close, thick, shadowy wood,
through which the path went winding on, dwindling away into
a slender sheep-track. He paused before entering \ for the
stillness of this spot almost daunted him.

The last rays of the sun were shining in, aslant, making
a path of golden light along the stems and branches in its
range, which, even as he looked, began to die away, yielding
gently to the twilight that came creeping on. It was so very
quiet that the soft and stealthy moss about the trunks of some
old trees, seemed to have grown out of the silence, and to be
its proper offspring. Those other trees which were subdued
by blasts of wind in winter time, had not quite tumbled down,
but being caught by others, lay all bare and scathed across their
leafy arms, as if unwilling to disturb the general repose by
the crash of their fall. Vistas of silence opened everywhere,
into the heart and innermost recesses of the wood ; beginning
with the likeness of an aisle, a cloister, or a ruin open to the
sky ; then tangling off into a deep green rustling mystery,
through which gnarled trunks, and twisted boughs, and ivy-
covered stems, and trembling leaves, and bark-stripped bodies
of old trees stretched out at length, were faintly seen in beau-
tiful confusion.

As the sunlight died away, and evening fell upon the
wood, he entered it. Moving, here and there, a bramble or a
drooping bough wliich stretched across his path, he slowly
disappeared. ■ At intervals a narrow opening showed him
passing on, or the sliarp cracking of some tender branch de-
noted where he went : then, he was seen or heard no more.

Never more beheld by mortal eye or heard by mortal ear :
one man excepted. That man, parting the leaves and branches

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

721

on the other side, near where the path emerged again, came
leaping out soon afterwards.

What had he left within tlie wood, that he sprang out of
it, as if it were a hell !

The body of a murdered man. In one thick solitary spot,
it lay among the last year's leaves of oak and beech, just as
it had fallen headlong down. Sopping and soaking in among
the leaves that formed its pillow ; oozing down into the boggy
ground, as if to cover itself from human sight ; forcing its way
between and through the curling leaves, as if those senseless
things rejected and foreswore it, and were coiled up in abhor-
rence ; went a dark, dark stain that dyed the whole summer
night from earth to heaven.

The doer of this deed came leaping from the wood so
fiercely, that he cast into the air a shower of fragments of
young boughs, torn away in his passage, and fell with violence
upon the grass. But he quickly gained his feet again, and
keeping underneath a hedge with his body bent, went running
on towards the road. The road once reached, he fell into a
rapid walk, and set on towards London.

And he was not sorry for what he had done. He was
frightened when he thought of it — when did he not think of
it ! — but he was not sorrv. He had had a terror and dread
of the wood when he was in it ; but being out of it, and hav-
ing committed the crime, his fears were now diverted, strangely,
to the dark room he had left shut up at home. He had a
greater horror, infinitely greater, of that room than of the
wood. Now that he was on his return to it, it seemed beyond
comparison more dismal and more dreadful than the wood.
His hideous secret was shut up in the room, and all its ter-
rors were there ; to his thinking it was not in the world at all.

He walked on for ten miles ; and then stopped at an ale-
house for a coach, which he knew would pass through, on its
way to London, before long ; and which he also knew was not
the coach he had travelled down by, for it came from another
place. He sat down outside the door here, on a bench, be-
side a man who was smoking his pipe. Having called for
some beer, and drunk, he offered it to this companion, who
thanked him, and took a draught. He could not help think-
ing that, if the man had known all, he might scarcely have
relished drinking out of the same cup with him.

" A fine night, master ! " said this person. " And a rare
sunset." 46

72 2 ^^^ ^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" I didn't see it," was his hasty answer.

" Didn't see it ? " returned the man.

" How the devil could I see it, if I was asleep ?

"Asleep! Ay, ay." The man appeared surprised by his
unexpected irritability, and saying no more, smoked his pipe in
silence. They had not sat very long, when there was a knock-
ing within.

" What's that ? " cried Jonas.

"Can't say, I'm sure," replied the man.

He made no further inquiiy, for the last question had es-
caped him, in spite of himself. But he was thinking, at the
moment, of the closed-up room ; of the possibility of their
knocking at the door on some special occasion ; of their being
alarmed at receiving no answer ; of their bursting it open ; of
their finding the room empty ; of their fastening the door into
the court, and rendering it impossible for him to get into the
house, without showing himself in the garb he wore ; which
would lead to rumor, rumor to detection, detection to death.
At that instant, as if by some design and order of circum-
stances, the knocking had come.

It still continued ; like a warning echo of the dread reality
he had conjured up. As he could not sit and hear it, he paid
for his beer and walked on again. And having slunk about,
in places unknown to him, all day ; and being out at night
ill a lonely road, in an unusual dress, and in that wandering
and unsettled frame of mind ; he stopped more than once
to look about him, hoping he might be in a dream.

Still he was not sorr^^ No. He had hated the man too
much, and had been bent, too desperately and too long, on
setting himself free. If the thing could have come over again
he would have done it again. His malignant and revengeful
passions were not so easily laid. There was no more peni-
tence or remorse within him now, than there had been when
the deed was brewing.

Dread and fear were upon him. To an extent he had
never counted on, and could not manage in the least degree.
He was so horribly afraid of that infernal room at home.
This made him, in a gloomy, murderous, mad way, not only
fearful y^;;- himself but of himself ; for being, as it were, a part
of the room : a something supposed to be there, yet missing
from it : he invested himself with its mvsterious terrors ; and
when he pictured in his mind the ugly chamber, false and
quiet, false and quiet, through the dark hours of two nights \

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

723

and the tumbled bed, and he not in it, though believed to be ;
he became in a manner his own ghost and phantom, and was
at once the haunting spirit and the haunted man.

When the coach came up, which it soon did, he got a place
outside, and was carried briskly onward towards home. Now,
in taking his seat among the people behind, who were chiefly
country people, he conceived a fear that they knew of the
murder, and would tell him that the body had been found \
which, considering the time and place of the commission of
the crime, were e\-ents almost impossible to ha\e happened
yet, as he very'well knew. But although he did know it, and
had therefore no reason to regard their ignorance as any-
thing but the natural sequence to the facts, still this very ig-
norance of theirs encouraged him. So far encouraged him,
that he beoran to believe the body never would be found, and
began to speculate on that probability. Setting off from this
point, and measuring time by the rapid hurry of his guilty
thoughts, and what had gone before the bloodshed, and the
troops of incoherent and disordered images, of which he was
the constant prey ; he came by daylight to regard the murder
as an old murder, and to think himself comparatively safe,
because it had not been discovered yet. Yet ! When the sun
which looked into the wood, and gilded with its rising light a
dead man's face, had seen that man alive, and sou^iit to win
him to a thought of Heaven, on its going down last night !

But here were London streets again. Hush !

It was but five o'clock. He had time enough to reach his
own house unobserved, and before there were many people in
the streets, if nothing had happened so far, tending to his
discovery. He slipped down from the coach without troubling
the driver to stop his horses ; and hurr\-ing across the road,
and in and out of ever)' by-way that lay near his course, at
length approached his own dwelling. He used additional
caution in his immediate neighborhood ; halting first to look
all down the street before him ; then gliding swiftly through
that one, and stopping to survey the next ; and so on.

The passage-way was empty when his murderer's face
looked into it. He stole on to the door, on tiptoe, as if he
dreaded to disturb his own imaginar}' rest.

He listened. Not a sound. As he turned the key with a
trembling hand, and pushed the door softly open with his
knee, a monstrous fear beset his mind.

What if the murdered man were there before him !

724 ^f^R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

He cast a fearful glance all round. But there was nothing
there.

He went in, locked the door, drew the key through and
through the dust and damp in the fire-place to sully it again,
and hung it up as of old. He took off his disguise, tied it up
in a bundle ready for carr}'ing away and sinking in the river
before night, and locked it up in a cupboard. These precau-
tions taken, he undressed, and went to bed.

The raging thirst, the fire that burnt within him as he lay
beneath the clothes, the augmented horror of the room, when
they shut it out from his \-iew ; the agony of listening, in which
he paid enforced regard to every sound, and thought the most
unlikely one the prelude to that knocking which should bring
the news ; the starts with which he left his couch, and looking
in the glass, imagined that his deed was broadly written in his
face, and lying down and burvdng himself once more beneath
the blankets, heard his own heart beating Murder, Murder,
Murder, in the bed ; what words can paint tremendous truths
like these !

The morning advanced. There were footsteps in the
house. He heard the blinds drawn up, and shutters opened ;
and now and then a stealthy tread outside his own door. He
tried to call out, more than once, but his mouth was dry as if
it had been filled with sand. At last he sat up in his bed, and
cried :

" Who's there > "

It was his wife.

He asked her what it was o'clock ? Nine.

" Did — did no one knock at my door yesterday ? " he fal-
tered. " Something disturbed me ; but unless you had knocked
the door down, you would have got no notice from me."

"No one," she replied. That was well. He had waited,
almost breathless, for her answer. It was a relief to hnn, if
anything could be.

*' Mr. Nadgett wanted to see you," she said, " but I told him
you were tired, and had requested not to be disturbed. He
said it was of little consequence, and went away. As I was
opening my window, to let in the cool air, I saw him passing
through the street this morning, ver}- early ; but he hasn't
been again."

Passing through the street that morning ? Very early !
Jonas trembled at the thought of having had a narrow chance
of seeing him himself : even him, who had no object but to

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

725

avoid people, and sneak on unobserved, and keep his own
secrets : and who saw nothing.

He called to her to get his breakfast ready, and prepared
to go up stairs : attiring himself in the clothes he had taken
off when he came into that room, which had been, ever since,
outside the door. In his secret dread of meeting the house-
hold for the first time, after what he had done, he lingered at
the door on slight pretexts that they might see him without
looking in his face ; and left it ajar while he dressed ; and
called out, to have the windows opened, and the pavement wa-
tered, that thev might become accustomed to his voice. Even
when he had put off the time, by one means or other, so that
he had seen or spoken to them all, he could not muster cour-
age for a long while to go in among them, but stood at his
own door listening: to the murmur of their distant conversa-

tion.

He could not stop there forever, and so joined them. His
last glance at the glass had seen a tell-tale face, but that might
have been because of his anxious looking in it. He dared
not look at them to see if they observed him, but he thought
them very silent.

And whatsoever guard he kept upon himself, he could not
help listening, and showing that he listened. Whether he at-
tended to their talk, or tried to think of other things, or talked
himself, or held his peace, or resolutely counted the dull tick-
ings of a hoarse clock, at his back, he always lapsed, as if a spell
were on him, into eager listening. For he knew it must come ;
and his present punishment, and torture, and distraction, were,
to listen for its coming.

Hush!

CHAPTER XLVni.

BEARS TIDINGS OF MARTIN, AND OF MARK, AS WELL AS OF A
THIRD PERSON NOT QUITE UNKNOWN TO THE READER.
EXHIBITS FILIAL PIETY IN AN UGLY ASPECT ; AND CASTS
A DOUBTFUL RAY OF LIGHT UPON A VERY DARK PLACE.

Tom Pinch and Ruth were fitting at their early breakfast,
with the window open, and a row of the freshest little plants

J 26 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

ranged before it on the inside by Ruth's own hands ; and
Ruth had fastened a sprig of geranium in Tom's button-hole,
to mal<e him very smart and summer-Uke for the day, (it was
obliced to be fastened in, or that dear old Tom was certain to
lose it) ; and people were crying flowers up and down the street ;
and a blundering bee, who had got himself in between the two
sashes of the window, was bruising his head against the glass,
endeavoring to force himself out into the fine morning, and
considering himself enchanted because he couldn't do it ; and
the morning was as fine a morning as ever was seen ; and the
fragrant air was kissing Ruth and rustling about Tom, as if
it said, " How are you, my dears : I came all this way on
purpose to salute you ; " and it was one of those glad times
when we form, or ought to form, the wish that every one on
earth were able to be happy, and catching glimpses of the
summer of the heart, to feel the beauty of the summer of the
year.

It was even a pleasanter breakfast than usual : and it was
always a pleasant one. For little Ruth had now two pupils
to attend, each three times a week, and each two hours at a
time ; and besides this, she had painted some screens and
card-racks, and, unknown to Tom (was there ever anything so
delightful ! ) had walked into a certain shop which dealt in such
articles, after often peeping through the window; and had
taken courage to ask the mistress of that shop whether she
would buy them. And the mistress had not only bought them,
but had ordered more ; and that very morning Ruth had made
confession of these facts to Tom, and had handed him the
money in a little purse she had worked expressly for the pur-
pose. They had been in a flutter about this, and perhaps had
shed a happy tear or two for anything the history knows to the
contrary ; but it was all over now ; and a brighter face than
Tom's, or a brighter face than Ruth's the bright sun had not
looked on, since he went to bed last night.

" My dear girl," said Tom, coming so abruptly on the sub-
ject that he interrupted himself in the act of cutting a slice of
bread, and left the knife sticking in the loaf, " what a queer
fellow our landlord is ! I don't believe he has been home once,
since he got me into that unsatisfactory scrape. I begin to
think he will never come home again. What a mysterious life
that man does lead, to be sure ! "

" Very strange. Is it not, ^Tom ! "

" Really," said Tom, " I hope it is only strange, I hope

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

727

there may be nothing wrong in it. Sometimes I begin to be
doubtfnl of that. I must have an explanation with him," said
Tom, shaking his head as if this were a most tremendous
threat, " when I can catch him ! "

A short double knock at the door put Tom's menacing
looks to flight, and awakened an expression of surprise in-
stead.

"Heyday!" said Tom. " An early hour for visitors ! It
must be John, I suppose."

"I — 1 — don't think it was his knock, Tom," observed his
little .sister.

" No ? " said Tom. " It surely can't be my employer,
suddenly arrived in town ; directed here by Mr. Fips ; and
come for the key of the otiice. It's somebody inquiring for
me, I declare ! . Come in, if you please ! "

But when the person came in, Tom Pinch, instead of say-
ing, " Did you wish to speak with me, sir ? " or, '' My name
is Pinch, sir : what is your business, may I ask ? " or address-
ing him in any such distant terms ; cried out, " Good gracious
Heaven ! " and seized him by both hands, with the liveliest
manifestations of astonishment and pleasure.

The visitor was not less moved than Tom himself, and
they shook hands a great many times, without another word
being spoken on either side. Tom was the hrst to find his
voice.

" Mark Tapley, too ! " said Tom, running towards the
door, and shaking hands with somebody else. " My dear
Mark, come in. How are you, Mark ! He don't look a day
older than he used to do, at the Dragon. How arc you,
Mark ! "

" Uncommonly jolly, sir, thankee," returned Mr. Tapley,
all smiles and bows. " I hope I see you well, sir."

" Good gracious me ! " cried Tom, patting him tenderly
on the back. " How delightful it is to hear his old voice
again ! My dear Martin, sit down. My sister, Martin. Mr.
Chuzzlewit, my love. Mark Tapley from the Dragon, my
dear. Good gracious me, what a surprise this is ! Sit down.
Lord bless me ! "

Tom was in such a state of excitement that he couldn't
keep himself still for a moment, but was constantly running
between Mark and Martin, shaking hands with them alter-
nately, and presenting them over and over again to his sister.

" I remember the day we parted, Martin, as well as if it

728 MARTIN CIICZZLEWn\

were yesterday," said Tom. "What a day it was ! and what
a passion you were in ! And don't you remember my over-
taking you in the road tlaat morning, Mark, when I was going
to Salisbury in the gig to fetch him, and you were looking out
for a situation ! And don't you recollect the dinner we had
at Salisbury. Martin, with John Westlock, eh ? Good gracious
me ! Ruth, my dear, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Mark Tapley, my love,
from the Dragon. More cups and saucers, if you please.
Bless my soul how glad I am to see you both ! "

And then Tom (as John Westlock had done on his arrival)
ran off to the loaf to cut some bread and butter for them ;
and before he had spread a single slice, remembered some-
thing else, and came running back again to tell it ; and then
he shook hands with them again ; and then he introduced his
sister again ; and then he did everything he had done already
all over again ; and nothing Tom could do, and nothing Tom
could say, was half sufficient to express his joy at their safe
return.

Mr. Tapley was the first to resume his composure. In a
very short space of time, he was discovered to have somehow
installed himself in office as waiter, or attendant upon the
party ; a fact which was first suggested to them by his tempo-
rary absence in the kitchen, and speedy return with a kettle of
boiling water, from which he replenished the tea-pot with a
self-possession that was quite his own.

" Sit down and take your breakfast, Mark," said Tom,
" Make him sit down and take his breakfast, Martin."

"Oh! I gave him up long ago, as incorrigible," Martin re-
plied. " He takes his own way, Tom. You would excuse
him, Miss Pinch, if you knew his value."

" She knows it, bless you ! " said Tom. " have told her
all about Mark Tapley. Have I not, Ruth.? "

" Yes, Tom."

" Not all," returned Martin, in a low voice. " The best of
Mark Tapley is only known to one man, Tom ; and but for
Mark he would hardly be alive to tell it."

" Mark ! " said Tom Pinch energetically, " if you don't sit
down this minute, I'll swear at you ! "

" Well, sir," returned Mr. Tapley, " sooner than you should
do that, I'll com-ply. It's a considerable invasion of a man's
jollity to be made so partickler welcome, but a Werb is a word
as signifies to be, to do, or to suiTer (which is all the grammar,
and enough too, as ever I was taught) • and if there's a Werb

MARTIX CnUZZLEWIT.

729

alive, I'm it. For I'm always a bein', sometimes a doin', and
coniinually a sufferin'."

"Not jolly yet ? " asked Tom, with a smile.

" Why, I was rather so, over the water, sir," returned Mr.
Tapley ; " and not entirely without credit. But Human
Natur' is in a conspiracy agin' me ; I can't get on. I shall
have to leave it in my will, sir, to be wrote upon my tomb :
' He was a man as might have come out strong if he could
have got a chance. But it was denied him.' "

Mr. Tapley took this occasion of looking about him with a
grin, and subsequently attacking the breakfast, with an ap-
petite not expressive of blighted hopes, or insurmountable
despondency.

In the meanwhile, Martin drew his chair a little nearer to
Tom and his sister, and related to them what had passed at
Mr. Pecksniff's house ; adding in few words a general sum-
mary of the distresses and disappointments he had vmder-
gone since he left England.

" For your faithful stewardship in the trust I left with you,
Tom," he said, " arid for all your goodness and disinterested-
ness, I can never thank you enough. When I add Mary's
thanks to mine "

Ah, Tom! The blood retreated from his cheeks, and
came rushing back, so violently, that it was pain to feel it ;
ease though, ease, compared with the aching of his wounded
heart.

"When I add Mary's thanks to mine," said Martin, "I
have made the only poor acknowledgment it is in our power
to offer ; but if you knew how much we feel, Tom, you would
set some store by it, I am sure."

And if they had known how much 'l\:)m felt — but that no
human creature ever knew — they w(5uld have set some store
by him. Indeed they would.

Tom changed the topic of discourse. He was sorry he
could not pursue it, as it gave Martin pleasure ; but he was
unable, at that moment. No drop of envy or bitterness was
in his soul ; but he could not master the firm utterance of her
name.

He inquired what Martin's projects were.

" No longer to make your fortune, Tom," said Martin,
" but to try and live. I tried that once in London, Tom ; and
failed. If you will give me the benefit of your advice and
friendly counsel, I may succeed better under your guidance.

73°

MA R TIN CIIUZZL E IV I T.

I will do anything, Tom, anything, to gain a livelihood by my
own exertions. My hopes do not soar above that, now."

High-hearted, noble Tom ! Sorry to find the pride of his
old companion humbled, and to hear him speaking in this
altered strain, at once, at once he drove, from his breast the in-
ability to contend with its deep emotions, and spoke out
bravely.

" Your hopes do not soar above that ! " cried Tom.
" Yes they do. How can you talk so ! They soar up to the
time when you will be happy with her, Martin. They soar up
to the time when you will be able to claim her, Martin. They
soar up to the time when you will not be able to beliexe that
you were ever cast down in spirit, or poor in pocket, Martin.
Advice, and friendly counsel ! Why, of course. But you
shall have better advice and counsel (though you cannot ha\ e
more friendly) than mine. You shall consult John Westlock.
We'll go there immediately. It is yet so early that I shall
have time to take you to his chambers before I go to business ;
they are in my way ; and I can leave you there, to talk o\er
your affairs with him. So come along. Come along. I am
a man of occupation now, you know," said Tom with his pleas-
antest smile ; " and have no time to lose. Your hopes don't
soar higher than that ? I dare say they don't. / know you
pretty well. They'll be soaring out of sight soon, Martin, and
leaving all the rest of us leagues behind."

" Ay ! But I may be a little changed," said Martin,
" since you knew me pretty well, Tom."

" What nonsense ! " exclaimed Tom. " Why should you
be changed ? You talk as if you were an old man. I never
heard such a fellow ! Come to John Westlock's, come.
Come along, Mark Tapley. It's Mark's doing, I have no
doubt ; and it serves you right for having such a grumbler for
your companion."

" There's no credit to be got through being jolly with you,
Mr. Pinch, anyways," said Mark, with his face all wrinkled up
with grins. " A parish doctor might be jolly with you. There's
nothing short of goin' to the U-nited States for a second trip,
as would make it at all creditable to be jolly, after seein' you

agam

t

Tom laughed, and taking leave of his sister, hurried Mark
and Martin out into the street, and away to John Westlock's
by the nearest road ; for his hour of business was ver)'^ near at
hand, and he prided himself on always being exact to his time„

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 7 3 1

John Westlock was at home, but, strange to say, was rather
embarrassed to see them ; and when Tom was about to go into
the room where he was breakfasting, said he had a stranger
there. It appeared to be a mysterious stranger, for John shut
that door as he said it, and led them into the next room.

He was very much delighted, though, to see Mark Tapley ;
and received Martin with his own frank courtesy. But Martin
felt that he did not inspire John Westlock with any unusual
interest ; and twice or thrice observed that he looked at Tom
Pinch doubtfully ; not to say compassionately. He thought
and blushed to think that he knew the cause of this.

" I apprehend you are engaged," said Martin, when Tom
had announced the purport of their visit. " If you will allow
me to come again at your own time, I shall be glad to do so."

" I atn engaged," replied John, with some reluctance ; "but
the matter on- which I am engaged is one, to say the truth,
more immediately demanding your knowledge than mine."

" Indeed ! " cried Martin.

"It relates to a member of your family, and is of a serious
nature. If you will have the kindness to remain here, it will
be a satisfaction to me to have it privately communicated to
you, in order that you may judge of its importance for your-
self."

" And in the meantime," said Tom, " I must really take
myself off, without any further ceremony."

"Is your business so ver)' particular," asked Martin, "that
you cannot remain with us for half an hour .'' I wish you
could. What is your business, Tom ? "

It was Tom's turn to be embarrassed now ; but he plainly
said, after a little hesitation :

" Why, I am not at liberty to say what it is, Martin :
though I hope soon to be in a condition to do so, and am
aware of no other reason to prevent my doing so now, than
the request of my employer. It's an awkward position to be
placed in," said Tom, with an uneasy sense of seeming to
doubt his friend, " as I feel every day ; but I really cannot
help it, can 1, John t "

John Westlock replied in the negative ; and Martin, ex-
pressing himself perfectly satisfied, begged them not to say
another word : though he could not help wondering very
much, what curious office Tom held, and why he was so secret,
and embarrassed, and unlike himself, in reference to it. Nor
could he help reverting to it, in his own mind, several times

^32 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

after Tom went away, which he did as soon as this conversa-
tion was ended, taking Mr. Tapley with him, who, as he
laughingly said, might accompany him as far as Fleet Street,
without injury.

" And what do you mean to do, Mark ? " asked Tom, as
they walked on together.

'" Mean to do, sir ? " returned Mr. Tapley.

" Ay. What course of life do you mean to pursue ? '

"Well, sir," said Mr. Tapley. "The fact is, that I have
been a-thinking rather of the matrimonial line, sir."

" You don't say so, Mark ! " cried Tom.

"Yes, sir. I've been a-turnin' of it over."

" And who is the ladv, Mark ? "

" The which, sir ? " said Mr. Tapley.

" The lady. Come ! You know what I said," replied
Tom, laughing, " as well as I do ! "

Mr. Tapley suppressed his own inclination to laugh ; and
with one of his most whimsically-twisted looks, replied,

" You couldn't guess I suppose, Mr. Pinch ? "

" How is it possible ? " said Tom. " I don't know any of
your flames, Mark. Except Mrs. Lupin, indeed."

" Well, sir ! " retorted Mr. Tapley. " And supposing it
was her ! "

Tom stopping in the street to look at him, Mr. Tapley for
a moment presented to his view, an utterly stolid and expres-
sionless face : a perfect dead wall of countenance. But
opening window after window in it, with astonishing rapidity,
and lighting them all up as for a general illumination, he
repeated :

" Supposin', for the sake of argument, as it was her, sir ! "

" Why, I thought such a connexion wouldn't suit you,
Mark, on any terms ! " cried Tom.

"Well, sir, I used to think so myself, once," said Mark.
" But I ain't so clear about it now, A dear, sweet creetur,
sir ! ''

" A dear, sweet creature ? To be sure she is," cried Tom.
" But she always was a dear sweet creature, was she not ? "

" Was she not ! " assented Mr. Tapley.

" Then why on earth didn't you marr}' her at first, Mark,
instead of wandering abroad, and losing all this time, and
leaving her alone by herself, liable to be courted by other
people ? "

" Why, sir," retorted Mr. Tapley, in a spirit of unbounded

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 733

confidence, " I'll tell you how it come about. You know nie,
Mr. Pinch, sir ; there ain't a gentleman alive as knows me
better. You're acquainted with my constitution, and you're
acquainted with my weakness. My constitution is, to be
jolly ; and my weakness is, to wish to find a credit in it.
Wery good, sir. In this state of mind, I gets a notion in my
head' that she looks on me with a eye of — with what you may
call a favorable sort of a eye in fact," said Mr. Tapley, with
modest hesitation.

" No doubt," replied Tom. " We knew that perfectly
well when we spoke on this subject long ago ; before you left
the Dragon."

Mr. Tapley nodded assent. " Well sir ! But bein" _ at
that time fulTof hopeful wisions, I arrives at the conclusion
that no credit is to be got out of such a way of life as that,
where everv'thing agreeable would be ready to one's hand.
Lookin' on 'the bright side of human life in short, one of my
hopeful wisions is, that there's a deal of misery a-waitin' for
me ; in the midst of which I may come out tolerable strong,
and be jolly under circumstances as reflects some credit. I
goes into the world, sir, wer)' boyant, and I tries this. I goes
aboard ship first, and wery soon disco\ers (by the ease with
which I'm jolly, mind you)' as there's no credit to be got there.
I might have' took warning by this, and gave it up ; but I
didn't. I gets to the U-nited States ; and then I do begin, I
won't deny it, to feel some little credit in sustaining my spirits.
What follows ? Jest as I'm beginning to come out, and am a
treadin' on the werge, my master deceives me."

" Deceives you ! " cried Tom.

" Swindles me," retorted Mr. Tapley with a beaming face.
" Turns his back on ev'ry thing as made his service a credit-
able one, and leaves me, high and dry, without a leg to stand
upon. In which state, I returns home. Wery good. Then
all my hopeful wisions bein' crushed ; and findin' that there
ain't no credit forme nowhere; I abandons myself to despair,
and says, ' Let me do that as has the least credit in it, of all ;
marry a dear, sweet creetur, as is wery fond of me : me being,
at the same time, wery fond of her : lead a happy life, and
struggle no more again' the blight which settles on my pros-
pects."

"If your philosophy, Mark," said Tom, who lauglied
heartily at this speech, " be the oddest I ever heard of, it is
not the least wise. Mrs. Lupin has said ' yes,' of course? "

734

MA R TIIV CHUZZLE WIT.

" Why, no, sir," replied Mr. Tapley ; " she hasnt gone so
far as that yet. Which I attribute principally to my not
havin' asked her. But we was wery agreeable together — ■
comfortable, I may say — the night I come home. It's all
right, sir."

''Well!" said Tom, stopping at the Temple Gate. "I
wish you joy, Mark, with all my heart. I shall see you again
to-day, I dare say. Good-by for the present."

" Good-by, sir ! Good-by, Mr. Pinch ! " he added, by way
of soliloquy, as he stood looking after him: "although you
are a damper to a honorable ambition. You little think it,
but you was the first to dash my hopes. Pecksniff would
have built me up for life, but your sweet temper pulled me
down. Good-by, Mr. Pinch ! "

While these confidences were interchanged between Tom
Pinch and Mark, Martin and John Westlock were very differ-
endy engaged. They were no sooner left alone together than
Martin said, with an effort he could not disguise :

" Mr. Westlock, we have met only once before, but you
have known Tom a long while, and that seems to render you
familiar to me. I cannot talk freely with you on any subject
unless I relieve my mind of what oppresses it just now. I
see with pain that you so far mistrust me that you think me
likely to impose on Tom's regardlessness of himself, or on his
kind nature, or some of his good qualities."

" I had no intention," repliecl John, " of conveying any
such impression to you, and am exceedingly sorry to have
done so."

" But you entertain it t " said Martin.

" You ask me so pointedly and directly," returned the
other, " that I cannot deny the having accustomed myself to
regard you as one who, not in wantonness but in mere thought-
lessness of character, did not sufficiently consider his nature
and did not quite treat it as it deserves to be treated. It is
much easier to slight than to appreciate Tom Pinch."

This was not said warmly, but was energetically spoken
too ; for there was no subject in the world (but one) on which
the speaker felt so strongly.

"I grew into the knowledge of Tom," he pursued, "as I
grew towards manhood ; and I have learned to love him as
something infinitely better than myself. I did not think that
you understood him when we met before, f did not think
that you greatly cared to understand him. The instances of

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

735

this which I observed in you, were, like my opportunities for
observation, very trivial — and were very harmless I dare say.
But they were not agreeable to me, and they forced them-
selves upon me ; for I was not upon the watch for them, be-
lieve me. You will say," added John, with a smile, as he sub-
sided into more of his accustomed manner, " that I am not by
any means agreeable to you. I can only assure you, in reply,
that I would not have originated this topic on any account."

"I originated it," said Martin ; "and so far from ha\ing
any complaint to make against you, highly esteem the friend
ship you entertain for Tom, and the veiy many proofs you
have given him of it. Why should I endeavor to conceal
from you " — he colored deeply though — " that I neither under-
stood him nor cared to understand him when I was his com-
panion ; and that I am ver}- truly sorry for it now ! "

It was so sincerely said, at once so modestly and manfully,
that John offered him his hand as if he had not done so before ;
and Martin giving his in the same open spirit, all constraint
between the young men vanished.

" Now pray," said John, "when I tire your patience very
much in what I am going to say, recollect that it has an end
to it, and that the end is the point of the story."

With this preface, he related all the circumstances con-
nected with his having presided over the illness and slow re-
cover)'- of the patient at the \\\\^\ ; and tacked on to the skirts
of that narrative Tom's own account of the business on the
wharf. Martin was not a little puzzled when he came to an
end, for the two stories seemed to have no connection with
each other, and to leave him, as the phrase is, all abroad.

" If you will excuse me for one moment," said John,
rising, " I will beg you almost immediately to come into the
next room."

Upon that, he left Martin to himself, in a state of consider-
able astonishment ; and soon came back again to fulfil his
promise. Accompanying him into the next room, Martin
found there a third person ; no doubt the stranger of whom
his host had spoken when Tonr Pinch introduced him.

He was a young man ; with deep black hair and eyes.
He was gaunt and pale ; and evidently had not long recovered
from a severe illness. He stood as Martin entered, but sat
again at John's desire. His eyes were cast downward ; and
but for one glance at them both, half in humiliation and half
in entreaty, he kept them so, and sat quite still and silent.

736 MAR TIN- CHUZZLE WIT.

" This person's name is Lewsome," said John Westlock,
" whom I liave mentioned to you as having been seized with
an iUness at the inn near here, and undergone so much. He
has had a very hard time of it, ever since he began to recover ;
but, as you see, he is now doing well."

As he did not move or speak, and John Westlock made a
pause, Martin, not knowing what to say, said that he was glad
to hear it.

The short statement that I wish you to hear from his own
lips, Mr. Chuzzlewit," John pursued, looking attentively at
him, and not at Martin, " he made to me for the first time
yesterday, and repeated to me this morning, without the least
variation of any essential particular. I have already told you
that he informed me before he was removed from the Inn, that
he had a secret to disclose to me which lay heavy on his mind.
But, fluctuating between sickness and health, and between his
desire to relieve himself of it, and his dread of involving him-
self by revealing if, he has, until yesterday, avoided the dis-
closure. I never pressed him for it (having no idea of its
weight or import, or of my right to do so), until within a few
days past ; when, understanding from him, on his own volun-
tary avowal, in a letter from the country, that it related to a
person whose name was Jonas Chuzzlewit ; and thinking that
it might throw some light on that little mystery which made
Tom anxious now and then ; I urged the point upon him, and
heard his statement, as you will now, from his own lips. It is
due to him to say, that in the apprehension of death, he com-
mitted it to writing sometime since, and folded it in a sealed
paper, addressed to me : which he could not resolve, however,
to place of his own act in my hands. He has the paper in his
breast, I believe, at this moment."

The young man touched it hastily, in corroboration of the
fact.

" It will be well to leave that in our charge, perhaps,"
said John. " But do not mind it now."

As he said this, he held up his hand to bespeak Martin's
attention. It was already fixed upon the man before him,
who, after a short silence said, in a low, weak, hollow voice :

" What relation was Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, who — "

" — Who died — to me ? " said Martin. " He was my grand-
father's brother."

" I fear he was made awav with. Murdered ! "

" My God ! " said Martin.' " By whom .? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 737

The young man Lewsome, looked up in his face, and cast-
ing down his eyes again, replied :

" I fear, by me."

'' By you ? " cried Martin.

" Not by my act, but I fear by my means."

" Speak out ! " said Martin, " and speak the truth."

" I fear this is the truth."

Martin was about to interrupt him again, but John West-
lock saying softly, " Let him tell his story in his own way,"
Lewsome went on thus :

" I have been bred a surgeon, and for the last few years
have served a general practitioner in the City, as his assistant.
While I was in his employment I became acquainted with
Jonas Chuzzlewit. He is the principal in this deed."

'• What do you mean ? " demanded Martin, sternly. " Do
you know he is the son of the old man of whom you have
spoken ? "

" I do," he answered.

He remained silent for some moments, when he resumed
at the point where he had left off.

" I have reason to know it ; for I have often heard him
wish his old father dead, and complain of his being wearisome
to him, and a drag upon him. He was in the habit of doing
so, at a place of meeting we had — three or four of us — at
night. There was no good in the place, you may suppose,
when you hear that he was the chief of the party. I wish I
had died mvself, and never seen it ! "

He stopped again ; and again resumed as before.

" We met to drink and game ; not for large sums, but for
sums that were large to us. He generally won. Whether or
no, he lent money at interest to those who lost; and in this
way, though I think we all secretly hated him, he came to be
the master of us. To propitiate him, we made a jest of his
father : it began with his debtors ; I was one : and we used to
toast a quicker journey to the old man, and a swift inheritance
to the young one."

He paused again.

" One night he came there in a very bad humor. He had
been greatly tried, he said, by the old man that day. He and
I were alone together : and he angrily told me, that the old
man was in his second childhood ; that he was weak, imbecile,
and drivelling ; as unbearable to himself as he was to other
people ; and that it would be a charity to put him out of the

47

738

MA R TIN' CHUZZLE WIT.

way. He swore that he had often thought of mixing some-
thing with the stuff he took for his cough, which should help
him to die easily. People were sometimes smothered who
were bitten by mad dogs, he said ; and why not help these
lingering old men out of their troubles too t He looked full
at me as he said so, and I looked full at him ; but it went no
farther that night."

He stopped once more, and was silent for so long an in-
terval that John Westlock said " Go on." Martin had never
removed his eyes from his face, but was so absorbed in horror
and astonishment, that he could not speak.

" It may have been a week after that, or it may have been
less, or more — the matter was in my mind all the time, but I
cannot recollect the time, as I should any other period: — when
he spoke to me again. We were alone then, too ; being there
before the usual hour of assembling. There was no appoint-
ment between us ; but I think I went there to meet him, and
I know he came there to meet me. He was there first. He
was reading a newspaper when I went in, and nodded to me
without looking up, or leaving . off reading. I sat down
opposite and close to him. He said, immediately, that he
wanted me to get him some of two sorts of drugs. One that
was instantaneous in its effect ; of which he wanted very little.
One that was slow, and not suspicious in appearance ; of which
he wanted more. While he was speaking to me he still read
the newspaper. He said ' Drugs,' and never used any other
word. Neither did I."

" This all agrees with what I have heard before," observed
John Westlock.

" I asked him what he wanted the drugs for ? He said for
no harm ; to physic cats ; what did it matter to me .'' I was
going out to a distant colony (I had recently got the appoint-
ment, which, as Mr. Westlock knows, I have since lost by my
sickness, and which was my only hope of salvation from ruin),
and what did it matter to me t He could get them without
my aid at half a hundred places, but not so easily as he could
get them of me. This was true. He might not want them at
all, he said, and he had no present idea of using them ; but
he wished to have them by him. All th'is time he still read
the newspaper. We talked about the price. He was to for-
give me a small' debt — I was quite in his power — and to pay
me five pounds ; and there the matter dropped, through others
coming in. But, next night, under exactly similar circum-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

/o9

stances, I gave him the drugs, on his saying I was a fool to
think that he should ever use them for any harm ; and he gave
me the money. W'e ha\e never met since. I only know that
the poor old father died soon afterwards, just as he would
have died from this cause ; and that I ha\e undergone, and
suffer now, intolerable miser}^ Nothing," he added, stretching
out his hands, " can paint my misery ! It is well deserved, but
nothing can paint it."

With that he hung his head, and said no more. Wasted
and wretched, he was not a creature upon whom to heap re-
proaches that were una\'ailing.

" Let him remain at hand," said Martin, turning from him ;
" but out of sight, in Heaven's name ! "

"He will remain here," John whispered, ''Come with
me ! " Softly turning the key upon him as they went out, he
conducted Martin into the adjoining room, in which they had
been before.

Martin was so amazed, so shocked, and confounded by
what he had heard, that it was some time before he could re-
duce it to any order in his mind, or could sufificiently compre-
hend the bearing of one part upon another, to take in all the
details at one view. When he, at length, had the whole
narrative clearly before him, John Westlock went on to point
out the great probability of the guilt of Jonas being known to
other people, who traded in it for their own benefit, and who
were, by such means, able to exert that control over him which
Tom Pinch had accidentally witnessed, and unconsciously
assisted. This appeared so plain, that they agreed upon it
without difficulty ; but instead of deriving the least assistance
from this source, they found that it embarrassed them the
more.

They knew nothing of the real parties, who possessed this
power. The only person before them was Tom's landlord.
They had no right to question Tom's landlord, even if the}'
could hnd him, which, according to Tom's account, it would
not be easy to do. And granting that they did question him,
and he answered (which was taking a good deal for granted),
he had only to say, with reference to the adventure on the
wharf, that he had been sent from such and such a place to
summon Jonas back on urgent business, and there was an end
of it.

Besides, there was the great difficulty and responsibility of
moving at all in the matter. Lewsome's stor}' might be false ;

740 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

in his wretched state it might be greatly heightened by a
diseased brain ; or admitting it to be entirely true, the old
man might have died a natural death. Mr. Pecksniff had
been there at the time ; as Tom immediately remembered,
when he came back in the afternoon, and shared their counsels ;
and there had been no secrecy about it. Martin's grandfather
was of right the person to decide upon the course that should
be taken ; but to get at his views would be impossible, for
Mr. Pecksniff's views were certain to be his. And the nature
of Mr. Pecksniff's views in reference to his own son-in-law,
might be easily reckoned upon.

Apart from these considerations, Martin could not endure
the thought of seeming to grasp at this unnatural charge
against his relative, and using it as a stepping-stone to his
grandfather's favor. But, that he would seem to do so, if he
presented himself before his grandfather in Mr. Pecksniff's
house again, for the purpose of declaring it ; and that Mr.
Pecksniff, of all men, would represent his conduct in that
despicable light, he perfectly well knew. On the other hand,
to-be in possession of such a statement, and take no measures
of further inquiry in reference to it, was tantamount to being
a partner in the guilt it professed to disclose.

In a word, they were wholly unable to discover any outlet
from this maze of difficulty, which did not lie through some
perplexed and entangled thicket. And although Mr. Tapley
was promptly taken into their confidence ; and the fertile
imagination of that gentleman suggested many bold expedients,
which, to do him justice, he was quite ready to carry into
instant operation on his own personal responsibility ; still,
'bating the general zeal of Mr. Tapley's nature, nothing was
made particularly clearer by these offers of service.

It was in this position of affairs that Tom's account of the
strange behavior of the decayed clerk, on the night of the tea-
party, became of great moment, and finally convinced them
that to arrive at a more accurate knowledge of the workings
of that old man's mind and memory, would be to take a most
important stride in their pursuit of the truth. So, having first
satisfied themselves that no communication had ever taken
place between Lewsome and Mr. Chuffey (which would have
accounted at once for any suspicion the latter might enter-
tain), they unanimously resolved that the old clerk was the
rnan they wanted.

But, lik» the unanimous resolution of a public meeting,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

741

which will oftentimes declare that this or that grievance is not
to be borne a moment longer, which is nevertheless borne for
a centur}^ or two afterwards, without any modification, the}' only
reached in this the conclusion that they were all of one mind.
For, it was one thing to want Mr. Chuff ey, and another thing
to get at him ; and to do that without alarming him, or without
alarming Jonas, or without being discomfited by the difficulty
of striking, in an instrument so out of tune and so unused,
the note they sought, was an end as far from their reach as
ever.

The question then became, who of those about the old
clerk had had most influence with him that night ? Tom said
his young mistress clearly. But Tom and all of them shrunk
from the thought of entrapping her, and making her the inno-
cent means of bringing retribution on her cruel husband.
Was there nobody else .-• Why yes. In a very different way,
Tom said, he was influenced by Mrs. Gamp, the nurse, who
had once had the control of him, as he understood for some
time.

They caught at this immediately. Here was a new way out,
developed in a quarter until then overlooked. John Westlock
knew Mrs. Gamp ; he had given her employment ; he was ac-
quainted with her place of residence, for that good lady had
obligingly furnished him, at parting, with a pack of her pro-
fessional cards for general distribution. It was decided that
Mrs. Gamp should be approached with caution, but approached
without delay ; and that the depths of that discreet matron's
knowledge of Mr. Chuffey, and means of bringing them or
one of them, into communication with him, should be care-
fully sounded.

On this service, Martin and John Westlock determined to
proceed that night ; waiting on Mrs. Gamp first, at her lodg-
ings, and taking their chance of finding her in the repose of
private life, or of having to seek her out, elsewhere, in the ex-
ercise of her professional duties. Tom returned home, that
he might lose no opportunity of having an interview with
Nadgett, by being absent in the event of his reappearance.
And Mr. Tapley remained (by his own particular desire) for
the time being in Furnixal's Inn, to look after Lewsome ; who
might safely have been left to himself, however, for any thought
he seemed to entertain of giving them the slip.

Before they parted on their several errands, they caused
him to read aloud, in the presence of them all, the papei

742 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

which he had about him, and the declaration he had attached
to it, which was to the effect, that he had written it voluntarily,
in the fear of death and in the torture of his mind. And
when he had done so, they all signed it, and taking it from
him, of his free will locked it in a place of safety.

Martin also wrote, by John's advice, a letter to the trus-
tees of the famous Grammar School, boldly claiming the suc-
cessful design as his, and charging Mr. Pecksniff with the
fraud he had committed. In this proceeding also, John was
hotly interested : observing with his usual irreverence, that
Mr. Pecksniff had been a successful rascal all his life through,
and that it would be a lasting source of happiness to him
(John) if he could help to do him justice in the smallest par-
ticular.

A busy day ! But Martin had no lodgings yet ; so when
these matters were disposed of, he excused himself from din-
ing with John Westlock and was fain to wander out alone,
and look for some. He succeeded, after great trouble, in en-
gaging two garrets for himself and Mark, situated in a court
in the Strand, not far from Temple Bar. Their luggage,
which was waiting for them at a coach-office, he conveyed to
this new place of refuge ; and it was with a glow of satisfaction,
which as a selfish man he never could have known and never
had, that, thinking how much pains and trouble he had saved
Mark, and how pleased and astonished Mark would be. he
afterwards walked up and down, in the Temple, eating a meat-
pie for his dinner.

CHAPTER XLIX.

IN WHICH MRS. HARRIS, ASSISTED BY A TEAPOT, IS THE CAUSE
OF A DIVISION BETWEEN FRIENDS.

Mrs. Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Hol-
born, wore, metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was
swept and garnished for the reception of a visitor. That
visitor was Betsey Prig : Mrs. Prig, of Bartlemy's, or as some
said Barklemy's, or as some said Bardlemy's : for by all these
endearing and familiar appellations, had the hospital of Saint

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 743

Bartholomew become a household word among the sisterhood
which Betsey Prig adorned.

Mrs. Gamp's apartment was not a spacious one, but, to
a contented mind, a closet is a palace ; and the first-floor front
at Mr. Sweedlepipe's may have been, in the imagination of
Mrs. Gamp, a stately pile. If it were not exactly that,_ to
restless intellects, it at least comprised as much accommodation
as any person, not sanguine to insanity, could have looked
for in a room of its dimensions. For only keep the bedstead
always in your mind, and you were safe. That was the
grand secret. Remembering the bedstead you might even
stoop to look under the little round table for anything you
had dropped, without hurting yourself much against the chest
of drawers, or qualifying as a patient of Saint Bartholomew,
by falling into the fire.

Visitors were much assisted in their cautious efforts to pre-
serve an unflagging recollection of this piece of furniture, by
its size, which was great. It was not a turn-up bedstead, nor
yet a French bedstead, nor yet a four-post bedstead, but what
is poetically called a tent : the sacking whereof, was low and
bulgy, insomuch that Mrs. Gamp's box would not go under it,
but stopped half way, in a manner which while it did violence
to reason, likewise endangered the legs, of a stranger. The
frame too, which would have supported the canopy and hang-
ings if there had been any, was ornamented with divers pip-
pins carved in timber, which on the slightest provocation, and
frequently on none at all, came tumbling down ; harassing the
peaceful guest with inexplicable terrors.

The bed itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of
great Antiquity ; and at the upper end, upon tlie side nearest
to the door, hung a scanty curtain of blue check, which pre-
vented the Zephyrs that were abroad in Kingsgate Street, from
visiting Mrs. Gamp's head too roughly. Some rusty gowns
and other articles of that lady's wardrobe depended from the
posts ; and these had so adapted themselves by long usage to
her figure, that more than one impatient husband coming in
precipitately, at about the time of twilight, had been for an
instant stricken dumb by the supposed discovery that Mrs.
Gamp had hanged herself. One gentleman, coming on the usual
hasty errand, had said indeed, that they looked like guardian
angels " watching of her in her sleep." But that, as Mrs.
Gamp said, "was his first ;" and he never repeated the senti-
ment, though he often repeated his visit.

^44 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

The chairs in Mrs. Gamp's apartment were extremely large
and broad-backed, which was more than a sufficient reason for
there being but two in number. They were both elbow-chairs,
of ancient mahogany ; and were chiefly valuable for the slip-
pery nature of their seats, which had been originally horse-
hair, but were now covered with a shiny substance of a bluish
tint, from which the visitor began to slide away with a dis-
mayed countenance, immediately after sitting down. What
Mrs. Gamp wanted in chairs she made up in bandboxes ; of
which she had a great collection, devoted to the reception of
various miscellaneous valuables, which were not, however, as
well protected as the good woman, by a pleasant fiction,
seemed to think ; for, though every bandbox had a carefully
closed lid, not one among them had a bottom : owing to
which cause, the property within was merely, as it were, ex-
tinguished. The chest of drawers having been originally
made to stand upon the top of another chest, had a dwarfish,
elfin look, alone ; but, in regard of its security it had a great
advantage over the bandboxes, for as all the handles had
been long ago pulled off, it was ver}^ difficult to get at its con-
tents. This indeed was only to be done by one of two devices ;
either by tilting the whole structure forward until all the
drawers fell out together, or by opening them singly with
knives, like oysters.

Mrs. Gamp stored all her household matters in a little cup-
board by the fireplace ; beginning below the surface (as in
nature) with the coals, and mounting gradually upwards to the
spirits, which, from motives of delicacy, she kept in a tea-pot.
The chimney-piece was ornamented with a small almanac,
marked here and there in Mrs. Gamp's own hand, with a
memorandum of the date at which some lady was expected to
fall due. It was also embellished with three profiles : one, in
colors, of Mrs. Gamp herself in early life ; one, in bronze, of
a lady in feathers, supposed to be Mrs. Harris, as she ap-
peared when dressed for a ball ; and one, in black, of Mr.
Gamp, deceased. The last was a full length, in order that the
likeness might be rendered more obvious and forcible, by the
introductiton of the wooden leg.

A pair of bellows, a pair of pattens, a toasting-fork, a
kettle, a pap-boat, a spoon for the administration of medicine
to the refractory, and lastly, Mrs. Gamp's umbrella, which as
something of great price and rarity was displayed with par
ticular ostentation, completed the decorations of the chimney-

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

745

piece and adjacent wall. Towards these objects, Mrs. Gamp
raised her eyes in satisfaction when she had arranged the tea-
board, and had concluded her arrangements for the reception
of Betsey Prig, even unto the setting forth of two joounds of
Newcastle salmon, intensely pickled.

" There ! Now drat you, Betsey, don't be long ! " said
Mrs, Gamp, apostrophizing her absent friend. " For I can't
abear to wait, I do assure you. To wotever place I goes, I
sticks to this one mortar. ' I'm easy pleased ; it is but little as
I wants ; but I must have that little of the best, and to the
minute when the clock strikes, else we do not part as I could
wish, but bearin' malice in our arts.' "

Her own preparations were of the best, for they compre-
hended a delicate new loaf, a plate of fresh butter, a basin of
fine white sugar, and other arrangements on the same scale.
Even the snuff with which she now refreshed herself, was so
choice in quaUty, that she took a second pinch.

"There's the little bell a ringing now," said Mrs. Gamp,
hurrying to the stairhead and looking over. " Betsey Prig,
my — why it's that there disapintin' Sweedlepipes, I do believe."

" Yes, it's me," said the barber in a faint voice ; "I've
just come in."

" You're always a comin' in, I think," muttered Mrs.
Gamp to herself, " except wen you're a-going out. I ha'n't no
patience with that man ! "

" Mrs. Gamp," said the barber. " I say ! Mrs. Gamp ! "

"Well," cried Mrs. Gamp, impatiently, as she descended
the stairs. " What is it .'' Is the Thames a-fire, and cooking
its own fish, Mr. Sweedlepipe ? Why wot's the man gone
and been a-doin' of to himself .'' Pie's as white as chalk ! "

She added the latter clause of inquiry, when she got down
stairs, and found him seated in the shaving-chair, pale and
disconsolate.

"You recollect," said Poll. " You recollect young — "

"Not young Wilkins ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. "Don't say
young Wilkins, wotever you do. If young Wilkins's wife is
took—"

" It isn't anybody's wife," exclaimed the little barber.
" Bailey, young Bailey ! "

" Why, wot do you mean to say that chit's been a-doin'
of ? " retorted Mrs. Gamp, sharply. " Stuff and nonsense,
Mr. Sweedlepipes ! "

" He hasn't been a-doing anything ! " exclaimed poor Poll,

746 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

quite desperate. " What do you catch me up so short for
when you see me put out, to that extent, that I can hardly
speak ? He'll never do anything again. He's done for. He's
killed. The first time I ever see that boy," said Poll, " I
charged him too much for a red-poll. I asked him three-half-
pence for a penny one, because I was afraid he'd beat me
down. But he didn't. And now he's dead ; and if you was
to crowd all the steam-engines and electric fluids that ever
was, into this shop, and set 'em every one to work their hard-
est, they couldn't square the account, though it's only a
ha'penny ! "

Mr. Sweedlepipe turned aside to the towel, and wiped his
eyes with it.

" And what a clever boy he was ! " he said. " What a
surprising young chap he was ! How he talked ! and what a
deal he know'd ! Shaved in this very chair he was ; only for
fun ; it was all his fun ; he was full of it. Ah ! to think that
he'll never be shaved in earnest ! The birds might every one
have died, and welcome," cried the little barber, looking round
him at the cages, and again applying to the towel, " sooner
than I'd have heard this news ! "

" How did you ever come to hear it ? " said Mrs. Gamp.
" Who told you ? "

"I went out," returned the little barber, "into the City,
to meet a sporting Gent, upon the Stock Exchange, that
wanted a few slow pigeons to practice at; and when I'd done
with him, I went to get a little drop of beer, and there I heard
everybody a-talking about it. It's in the papers."

" You are in a nice state of confugion, Mr. Sweedlepipes,
you are ! " said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head ; " and my
opinion is, as half-a-dudgeon fresh young lively leeches on
your temples, wouldn't be too much to clear your mind,
which so I tell you. Wot were they a-talkin' on, and wot was
in the papers ? "

" All about it ! " cried the barber. " What else do you
suppose ? Him and his master were upset on a journey, and
he was carried to Salisbury, and was breathing his last when
the account came away. He never spoke afterwards. Not a
single word. That's the worst of it to me ; but that ain't all.
His master can't be found. The other manager of their office in
the city — Crimple, David Crimple— has gone off with the money,
and is advertised for, with a reward, upon the walls. Mr.
Montague, poor young Bailey's master (what a boy he was !)

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 'j /^-j

is advertised for, too. Some say he's slipped off, to join his
friend abroad ; some say he mayn't have got away yet ; and
they're looking for him high and low. Their office is a
smash ; a swindle altogether. But what's a Life Assurance
Office to a Life ! And what a Life Young Bailey's was ! "

" He was born into a wale," said Mrs. Gamp, with philo-
sophical coolness ; " and he lived in a wale : and he must take
the consequences of sech a sitiwation. But don't you hear
nothink of Mr. Chuzzlewit in all this ? "

" No," said Poll, " nothing to speak of. His name w^asn't
printed as one of the board, though some people say it was
just going to be. Some believe he was took in, and some
believe he was one of the takers-in ; but however that may be,
they can't prove nothing against him. This morning he went
up of his own accord afore the Lord Mayor or some of them
City big-wigs, and complained that he'd been swindled, and
that these two persons had gone off and cheated him, and
that he had just found out that Montague's name wasn't even
Montague, but something else. And they do say that he
looked like Death, owing to his losses. But, Lord forgive
me," cried the barber, coming back again to the subject of his
individual grief, " what's his looks to me ! He might have
died and welcome, fifty times, and not been such a loss as
Bailey ! "

At this juncture the little bell rang, and the deep voice of
Mrs. Prig struck into the conversation.

" Oh ! You're a-talkin' about it, are you ! " observed that
lady. " Well, I hope you've got it over, for I ain't interested
in it myself."

" My precious Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, " how late you
are !"

The worthy Mrs. Prig replied, with some asperity, " that if
perwerse people went off dead, when they was least expected,
it warn't no fault of her'n." And further, " that it was quite
aggrawation enough to be made late when one was dropping
for one's tea, without hearing on it again."

Mrs. Gamp, deriving from this exhibition of repartee some
clue to the state of Mrs. Prig's feelings, instantly conducted
her up stairs, deeming that the sight of pickled salmon might
work a softening change.

But Betsey Prig expected pickled salmon. It was ob-
vious that she did ; for her first words, after glancing at the
table, were :

748

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

" I know'd she wouldn't have a coucumber ! "

Mrs. Gamp changed color, and sat down upon the bed-
stead.

" Lord bless you, Betsey Prig, your words is true. I quite
forgot it ! "

Mrs. Prig, looking steadfastly at her friend, put her hand
in her pocket, and, with an air of surly triumph drew forth
either the oldest of lettuces or youngest of cabbages, but at
any rate, a green vegetable of an expansive nature, and of
such magnificent proportions that she was obliged to shut it
up like an umbrella before she could pull it out. She also
produced a handful of mustard and cress, a trifle of the herb
called dandelion, three bunches of radishes, an onion rather
larger than an average turnip, three substantial slices of beet'
root, and a short prong or antler of celery ; the whole of this
garden-stuff having been publicly exhibited, but a short time
before, as a twopenny salad, and purchased by Mrs. Prig, on
condition that the vendor could get it all into her pocket.
Which had been happily accomplished, in High Holborn, to
the breathless interest of a hackney-coach stand. And she
laid so little stress on this surprising forethought, that she did
not even smile, but returning her pocket into its accustomed
sphere, merely recommended that these productions of nature
should be sliced up, for immediate consumption, in plenty of
vinegar.

" And don't go a dropping none of your snuff in it," said
Mrs. Prig. " In gruel, barley-water, apple-tea, mutton-broth,
and that, it don't signify. It stimilates a patient. But I don't
relish it myself."

" Why, Betsey Prig ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, " how ca7i you
talk so ! "

" \\'hy, ain't your patients, wotever their diseases is, al-
ways a sneezin' their wery heads off, along of your snuff.'"'
said Mrs. Prig.

" And wot if they are ! " said Mrs. Gamp.

" Nothing if they are," said Mrs. Prig. " But don't deny
it, Sairah."

" Who deniges of it ? " Mrs. Gamp inquired.

Mrs. Prig returned no answer.

" Who deniges of it, Betsey? " Mrs. Gamp inquired again.
Then Mrs. Gamp, by reversing the question, imparted a deeper
and more awful character of solemnity to the same. " Betsey,
who denizes of it .-' "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

749

It was the nearest possible approach to a very decided
difference of opinion between these ladies ; but Mrs. Prig's
impatience for the meal being greater at the moment than
her impatience of contradiction, she replied, for the present,
" Nobody, if you don't, Sairah," and prepared herself for tea.
For a quarrel can be taken up at any time, but a limited
quantity of salmon cannot.

Her toilet was simple. She had merely to " chuck " her
bonnet and shawl upon the bed, give her hair two pulls, one
upon the right side and one upon the left, as if she were ring-
ing a couple of bells, and all was done. The tea was already
made, Mrs. Gamp was not long over the salad, and they were
soon at the height of their repast.

The temper of both parties was improved, for the time
being, by the enjoyments of the table. When the meal came
to a termination (which it was pretty long in doing), and Mrs.
Gamp having cleared away, produced the tea-pot from the
top-shelf, simultaneously with a couple of wine-glasses, they
were quite amiable.

" Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, filling her own glass, and
passing the tea-pot, " I will now propoge a toast. My fre-
quent pardner, Betsey Prig ! "

"VVhich, altering the name to Sairah Gamp; I drink,"
said Mrs. Prig, " with love and tenderness."

From this moment symptonis of inflammation began to
lurk in the nose of each lady ; and perhaps, notwithstanding
all appearances to the contrary, in the temper also.

"Now, Sairah," said Mrs. Prig, " joining business with
pleasure, wot is this case in which you wants me ? "

Mrs. Gamp betraying in her face some intention of return-
ing an evasive answer, Betsey added :

"/j- it Mrs. Harris ! "

" No, Betsey Prig, it ain't," was Mrs. Gamp's reply.

" Well ! " said Mrs. Prig, with a short laugh. " I'm glad
of that, at any rate."

"Why should you be glad of that, Betsey?" Mrs. Gamp
retorted, warmly. " She is unbeknown to you except by hear-
say, why should you be glad? If you have anythink to say
contrairy to the character of Mrs. Harris, which well I knows
behind her back, afore her face, or anywheres, is not to be
impeaged, out with it, Betsey. I have know'd that sweetest
and best of women," said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head, and
shedding tears, " ever since afore her First, which Mr. Harris

750 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

who was dreadful timid went and stopped his ears in a empty
dog-kennel, and never took his hands away or come out once
till he was showed the baby, wen bein' took with fits, the
doctor collared him and laid him on his back upon the airy
stones, and she was told to ease her mind, his owls was or-
gans. And I have know'd her, Betsey Prig, when he has hurt
her feelin' art by sayin' of his Ninth that it was one too many,
if not two, while that dear innocent was cooin' in his face,
which thrive it did though bandy, but I have never know'd as
you had occagion to be glad, Betsey, on accounts of Mrs.
Harris not requiring you. Require she never will, depend
upon it, for her constant words in sickness is, and will be,
' Send for Sairey ! ' "

During this touching address, Mrs. Prig adroitly feigning
to be the victim of that absence of mind which has its origin
in excessive attention to one topic, helped herself from the
tea-pot without appearing to observe it. Mrs. Gamp observed
it, however, and came to a premature close in consequence.

" Well it ain't her, it seems," said Mrs. Prig, coldly : "who
is it then .? "

" You have heerd me mention, Betsey," Mrs. Gamp re-
plied, after glancing in an expressive and marked manner at
the tea-pot, " a person as I took care on at the time as you
and me was pardners off and on, in that there fever at the
Bull.?"

" Old Snuffey," Mrs. Prig observed.

Sarah Gamp looked at her with an eye of fire, for she saw
in this mistake of Mrs. Prig, another wilful and malignant
stab at that same weakness or custom of hers, an ungenerous
allusion to which, on the part of Betsey, had first disturbed
their harmony that evening. And she saw it still more
clearly, when, politely but firmly correcting that lady by the
distinct enunciation of the word "Chuffey," Mrs. Prig received
the correction with a diabolical laugh.

The best among us have their failings, and it must be con-
ceded of Mrs. Prig, that if there were a blemish in the good
ness of her disposition, it was a habit she had of not bestow-
ing all its sharp and acid properties upon her patients (as a
thoroughly amiable woman would have done), but of keeping
a considerable remainder for the service of her friends.
Highly pickled salmon, and lettuces chopped up in vinegar,
may, as viands possessing some acidity of their own, have en-
couraged and increased this failing in Mrs. Prig ; and every

AIARTLV CHUZZLEWIT.

751

application to the tea-pot, certainly did ; for it was often re-
marked of her by her friends, that she was most contradictory
when most elevated. It is certain that her countenance
became about this time derisive and defiant, and that she sat
with her arms folded, and one eye shut up, in a somewhat
offensive, because obtrusively intelligent, manner.

Mrs. Gamp observing this, felt it the more necessary that
Mrs. Prig should know her place, and be made sensible of her
exact station in society, as well as of her obligations to her-
self. She therefore assumed an air of greater patronage and
importance, as she went on to answer Mrs. Prig a little more
in detail.

" Mr. Chuffey, Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, " is weak in his
mind. Excuge me if I makes remark, that he may neither be
so weak as people thinks, nor people may not think he is so
weak as they pretends, and what I knows, I knows ; and
what you don't, you don't ; so do not ask me, Betsey. But
Mr. Chuffey's friends has made propojals for his bein' took
care on, and has said to me, ' Mrs. Gamp, will you undertake
it .-• We couldn't think,' they says, ' of trusting him to nobody
but you, for, Sairey, you are gold as has passed the furnage.
Will you undertake it, at your own price, day and night, and
by your own self ? ' ' No,' I says, ' I will not. Do not reckon
on it. There is,' I says, 'but one creetur in the world as I
would undertake on sech terms, and her name is Harris.
But,' I says, ' I am acquainted with a friend, whose name is
Betsey Prig, that I can recommend, and will assist me. Bet-
sey,' I says, ' is always to be trusted, under me, and will be
guided as I could desire.' "

Here Mrs. Prig, without any abatement of her offensive
manner, again counterfeited abstraction of mind, and stretched
out her hand to the tea-pot. It was more than Mrs. Gamp
could bear. She stopped the hand of Mrs. Prig with her own,
and said, with great feeling : ^

" No, Betsey ! Drink fair, wotever you do ! "

Mrs. Prig, thus baffled, threw herself back in her chair,
and closing the same eye more emphatically, and folding her
arms tighter, suffered her head to roll slowly from side to
.side, while she surveyed her friend with a contemptuous
smile.

Mrs. Gamp resumed :

" Mrs. Harris, Betsey — "

" Bother Mrs. Harris ! " said Betsey Prig.

752

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Mrs. Gamp looked at her with amazement, incredulity,
and indignation; when Mrs. Prig, shutting her eye still closer,
and folding her arms still tighter, uttered these memorable
and tremendous words :

" I don't believe there's no sich a person ! "

After the utterance of which expressions, she leaned for-
ward, and snapped her fingers once, twice, thrice ; each time
nearer to the face of Mrs. Gamp, and then rose to put on her
bonnet, as one who felt that there was now a gulf between
them, which nothing could ever bridge across.

The shock of this blow was so violent and sudden, that
Mrs. Gamp sat stari;ig at nothing with uplifted eyes, and her
mouth open as if she were gasping for breath, until Betsey
Prig had put on her bonnet and shawl, and was gathering the
latter about her throat. Then Mrs. Gamp rose — morally and
physically rose — and denounced her.

"What!" said Mrs. Gamp, "you bage creetur, have 1
know'd Mrs. Harris five and thirty year, to be told at last that
there ain't no sech a person livin' ! Have I stood her friend
in all her troubles, great and small, for it to come at last to
sech a end as this, which her own sweet picter hanging up
afore you all the time, to shame your Bragian words ! But
well you mayn't believe there's no sech a creetur, for she
wouldn't demean herself to look at you, and often has she
said, when I have made mention of your name, which, to my
sinful sorrow, I have done, ' What, Sairey Gamp ! debage
yourself to her T Go along with you ! "

"I'm a goin', ma'am, ain't I?" said Mrs. Prig, stopping
as she said it.

" You had better, ma'am," said Mrs. Gamp.

" Do you know who you're talking to, ma'am ? " inquired
her visitor.

" Aperiently," said Mrs. Gamp, surveying her with scorn
from head to foot, "to Betsey Prig. Aperiently so. /know
her. No one better. Go along with you ! "

" And yoii was a going to take me under you ! " cried
Mrs. Prig, surveying Mrs. Gamp from head to foot in her
turn. " You was, was you ? Oh, how kind ! Why, deuce
take your imperence," said Mrs. Prig, with a rapid change
from banter to ferocitv, " what do vou mean ? "

" Go along with you ! " said Mrs. Gamp. " I blush for
you."

"You had better blush a little for yourself, while you

H

a

>
o

en
W

I

s

c

>

2

a

K
-<

n
>
r
r
<

o

>

z

D

G

W

z

c

n
n
d

X
M

I

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT

753

are about it ! " said Mrs. Prig. " You and your Chuffeys !
What, the poor old creetur isn't mad enough, isn't he }
Aha ! "

" He'd very soon be mad enough, if you had anything to
do with him," said Mrs. Gamp.

" And that's what I was wanted for, is it ? " cried Mrs.
Prig, triumphantly. " Yes. But you'll find yourself deceived.
I won't go near him. We shall see how you get on without
me. I won"t have nothink to do with him."

" You never spoke a truer word than that ! " said Mrs.
Gamp. " Go along with you ! "

She was pre\'ented from witnessing the actual retirement
of Mrs. Prig from the room, notwithstanding the great desire
she had expressed to behold it, by that lady, in her angry
withdrawal, coming into contact with the bedstead, and bring-
ing down the previously-mentioned pippins ; three or four of
which came rattling on the head of Mrs. Gamp so smartly,
that when she recovered from this wooden shower-bath, Mrs.
Prig was gone.

She had the satisfaction, however, of hearing the deep
voice of Betsey, proclaiming her injuries and her determina-
tion to have nothing to do with Mr. Chuffey, down the stairs,
and along the passage, and even out in Kingsgate Street.
Likewise of seeing in her own apartment, in the place of
Mrs. Prig, Mr. Sweedlepipe and two gentlemen.

"Why, bless my life ! " exclaimed the little barber, "what's
amiss? The noise you ladies have been making, Mrs. Gamp.^
Wh}^ these two gentlemen have been standing on the stairs,
outside the door, nearly all the time, trying to make you hear,
while you were pelting away, hammer and tongs ! It'll be the
death of the little bullfinch in the shop, that draws his own
water. In his fright, he's been a straining himself all to bits,
drawing more water than he could drink in a twelvemonth.
He must have thought it was Fire ! "

Mrs. Gamp had in the meanwhile sunk into her chair,
from whence, turning up her overflowing eyes, and clasping
her hands, she delivered the following lamentation :

" Oh, Mr. Sweedlepipe, which Mr. Westlock also, if my
eyes do not deceive, and a friend not havin' the pleasure of
bein' beknown, wot I have took from Betsey Prig this blessed
night, no mortal creetur knows ! If she had abuged me,
bein' in liquor, which I thought I smelt her wen she come,
but could not so believe, not bein' used myself " — Mrs. Gamp,

48

754

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT

by the way, was pretty far gone, and the fragrance of the tea-
pot was strong in the room — " I could have bore it with a
thankful art. But the words she spoke of Mrs. Harris, lambs
could not forgive. No, Betsey ! " said Mrs. Gamp, in a violent
burst of feeling, " nor worms forget ! "

The little barber scratched his head, and shook it, and
looked at the tea-pot, and gradually got out of the room.
John Westlock, taking a chair, sat down on one side of Mrs.
Gamp. Martin, taking the foot of the bed, supjDorted her
on the other.

" You wonder what we want, I dare say," observed John.
" I'll tell you presently, when you have recovered. It's not
pressing, for a few minutes or so. How do you find yourself ?
Better ? "

Mrs. Gamp shed more tears, shook her head and feebly
pronounced Mrs. Harris's name.

" Have a little — " John was at a loss what to call it.

" Tea," suggested Martin.

"It ain't tea," said Mrs. Gamp.

" Physic of some sort, I suppose," cried John. "Have a
little."

Mrs. Gamp was prevailed upon to take a glassful. " On
copdition,'' she passionately observed, " as Betsey never has
andtlier stroke of work from me."

^' Certainly not," said John. " She shall never help to

nurse w^r."

" To think," said Mrs. Gamp, " as she should ever have
helped to nuss that friend of yourn, and been so near of hear-
ing things that — Ah ! "

John looked at Martin.

" Yes," he said. " That was a narrow escape, Mrs.
Gamp."

" Narrer, in-deed ! " she returned. " It was only my hav-
ing the night, and hearin' of him in his wanderins ; and her
the day, that saved it. Wot would she have said and done,
if she had know'd what 1 know ; that perfeejus wretch ! Yet,
oh good gracious me ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, trampling on the
floor, in the absence of Mrs. Prig, " that I should hear from
that same woman's lips what I ha\'e heerd her speak of Mrs.
Harris ! "

" Never mind," said John. " You know it is true."

" Isn't true ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " True ! Don't I know
as that dear woman is expecting of me at this minnit, Mr.

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. y c; q

Westlock, and is a lookin' out of window down the street, with
Httle Tommy Harris in her arms, as calls me his own Gammy,
and truly calls, for bless the mottled little legs of that there
precious child (like Canterbury Brawn his own dear father
says, which so they are) his own I have been, ever since I
found him, Mr. Westlock, with his small red worsted shoe a
gurglin' in his throat, where he had put it in his play, a chick,
wile they was leavin' of him on the ffoor a looking for it
through the ouse and him a choakin' sweetly in the parlor !
Oh, Betsey Prig, what wickedness you've showed this night,
but never shall you darken Sairey's doors agen, you twining
serpiant ! "

" You were always so kind to her, too ! " said John, con-
solingly.

"That's the cutting part. That's where it hurts me, Mr.
Westlock," Mrs. Gamp replied ; holding out her glass uncon-
sciously, while Martin filled it.

" Chosen to help you with Mr. Lewsome ! " said John.
" Chosen to help you with Mr. Chuffey ! "

" Chose once, but chose no more," cried Mrs. Gamp.
" No pardnership with Betsey Prig agen, sir ! "

" No, no," said John. "That would never do."

" I don't know as it ever would have done, sir," Mrs.
Gamp replied, with the solemnity peculiar to a certain stage
of intoxication. "Now that the marks," by which Mrs. Gamp
is supposed to have meant mask, " is off that creatur's face, I
do not think it ever would have done. There are reagions in
families for keeping things a secret, Mr. Westlock, and havin'
only them about you as you knows you can repoge in. Who
could repoge in Betsey Prig, arter her words of Mrs. Harris,
setting in that chair afore my eyes ! "

" Quite true," said John ; " quite. 1 hope you have time
to find another assistant, Mrs. Gamp? "

Between her indignation and the tea-pot, her powers of
comprehending what was said to her began to fail. She
looked at John with tearful eyes, and murmuring the well
remembered name which Mrs. Prig had challenged — as if it
were a talisman against all earthly sorrows — seemed to
wander in her mind.

"I hope," repeated John, "that you have time to tind
another assistant .? "

"Which short it is, indeed," cried Mrs. Gamp, turning up
her laughing eyes, and clasping Mr. Westlock's wrist with

7S6

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

matronly afifection. " To-morrow evenin', sir, I waits upon
his friends. Mr. Cliuzzlewit apinted it from nine to ten."

" From nine to ten," said John, with a significant glance
at Martin ; " and then Mr. Chuffey retires into safe keeping,
does he .-* "

" He needs to be kep safe, I do assure you," Mrs. Gamp
replied, with a mysterious air. " Other people besides me
has had a happy deliverance from Betsey Prig. I little
know'd that woman. She'd have let it out ! "

" Let him out, you mean," said John.

" Do I ! " retorted Mrs. Gamp. " Oh ! "

The severely ironical character of this repl}' was strength-
ened by a very slow nod, and a still slower drawing down of
the corners of Mrs. Gamp's mouth. She added with extreme
stateliness of manner, after indulging in a short doze :

" But I am a keepin' of you gentlemen, and time is pre-
cious."

Mingling with that delusion of the tea-pot which inspired
her with the belief that they wanted her to go somewhere
immediately, a shrewd avoidance of any further reference to
the topics into which she had lately strayed, Mrs. Gamp rose ;
and putting away the tea-pot in its accustomed place, and
locking the cupboard with much gravity, proceeded to attire
herself for a professional visit.

This preparation was easily made, as it required nothing
more than the snuffy black bonnet, the snuffy black shawl,
the pattens, and the indispensable umbrella, without which
neither a lying-in nor a laying-out could by any possibility be
attempted. When Mrs. Gamp had invested herself with
these appendages she returned to her chair, and sitting down
again, declared herself quite ready.

" It's a appiness to know as one can benefit the poor sweet
creetur," she observed, " I'm sure. It isn't all as can. The
torters Betsey Prig inflicts is frightful ! "

Closinsf her eves as she made this remark, in the acute-
ness of her commiseration for Betsey's patients, she forgot to
open them again until she dropped a patten. Her nap was
also broken at intervals, like the fabled slumbers of Friar
Bacon, by the dropping of the other patten, and of the um-
brella. But when she had got rid of those incumbrances, her
sleep was peaceful.

The tv/o young men looked at each other, ludicrously
enough ; and Martin, stifling his disposition to laugh, whis-
pered in John Westlock's ear.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

757

" What shall we do now ? "

" Stay here," he replied.

Mrs. Gamp was heard to murmur "Mrs. Harris " in hei
sleep :

" Rely upon it," whispered John, looking cautiously to-
wards her, " that you shall question this old clerk, though
you go as Mrs. Harris herself. We know quite enough to
carry her our own way now, at all events ; thanks to this quar-
rel, which confirms the old saying, that when rogues fall out,
honest people get what they want. Let Jonas Chuzzlewit look
to himself ; and let her sleep as long as she likes. We shall
gain our end in good time."

CHAPTER L.

SURPRISES TOM PINCH VERY MUCH, AND SHOWS HOW CERTAIN
CONFIDENCES PASSED BETWEEN HIM AND HIS SISTER.

It was the next evening ; and Tom and his sister were
sitting together before tea, talking, in their usual quiet way,
about a great many things, but not at all about Lewsome's
story or anything connected with it ; for John Westlock —
really John, for so young a man, was one of the most con-
siderate fellows in the world — had particularly advised Tom
not to mention it to his sister just yet, in case it should dis-
quiet her. "And I wouldn't, Tom," he said, with a little
hesitation, " I wouldn't have a shadow on her happy face, or
an uneasy thought in her gentle heart, for all the wealth and
honors of the universe ! " Really John was uncommonly
kind ; extraordinarily kind. If he had been her father, Tom
said, he could not have taken a greater interest in her.

But although Tom and his sister were extremely conversa-
tional, they were less lively, and less cheerful, than usual.
Tom had no idea that this originated with Ruth, but took it
for granted that he was rather dull himself. In truth he was ;
for the lightest cloud upon the Heaven of her quiet mind,
cast its shadow upon Tom.

And there was a cloud on little Ruth that evening. Yes,
indeed. When Tom was looking in another direction, her

758 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT.

bright eyes, stealing on towards his face, would sparkle still
more brightly than their custom was, and then grow dim.
\\'hen Tom was silent, looking out upon the summer weather,
she would sometimes make a hasty movement, as if she were
about to throw herself upon his neck ; then check the im-
pulse, and when he looked round, show a laughing face, and
speak to him, very merrily ; when she had anything to give
Tom, or had any excuse for coming near him, she would flutter
about him, and lay her bashful hand upon his shoulder, and not
be willing to withdraw it ; and would show by all such means
that there was something on her heart which in her great love
she longed to say to him, but had not the courage to utter.

So they were sitting, she with her work before her, but not
working, and Tom with his book beside him, but not reading,
when Martin knocked at the door. Anticipating who it was,
Tom went to open it : and he and Martin came back into the
room together. Tom looked surprised, for in answer tp his
cordial greeting Martin had hardly spoken a word.

Ruth also saw that there was something strange in the
manner of their visitor, and raised her eyes inquiringly to
Tom's face, as if she were seeking an explanation there. Tom
shook his head, and made the same mute appeal to Martin.

Martin did not sit down, but walked up to the window, and
stood there, looking out. He turned round after a few moments
to speak, but hastily averted his head again, without doing so.

" What has happened, Martin ? " Tom anxiously inquired.
" My dear fellow, what bad news do you bring ? "

" Oh Tom ! " replied Martin, in a tone of deep reproach.
" To hear you feign that interest in anything that happens to
me, hurts me even more than your ungenerous dealing."

" My ungenerous dealing, Martin ! My — " Tom could say
no more.

" How could you, Tom, how could you suffer me to thank
you so fervently and sincerely for your friendship, and not tell
me, like a man, that you had deserted me ! Was it true, Tom !
Was it honest ! Was it worthy of what you used to be : of
what I am sure you used to be : to tempt me, when you had
turned against me, into pouring out my heart ! Oh lorn ! "

His tone was one of such strong injury and yet of so much
grief for the loss of a friend he had trusted in ; it expressed
such high past love for Tom, and so much sorrow and com-
passion for his supposed -unworthiness ; that Tom, for a mo-
ment, put his hand before his face, and had no more powei

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

759

of justifying himself, than if he had been a monster of deceit
and falsehood.

" I protest, as I must die," said Martin, " that I grieve
over the loss of what I thought you ; and have no anger in
the recollection of my own injuries. It is only at such a time,
and after such a discovery, that we know the full measure of
our old regard for the subject of it. I swear, little as I showed
it ; little as I know I showed it ; that when I had the least
consideration for you, Tom, I loved you like a brother."

Tom was composed by this time, and might have been the
Spirit of Truth, in a homely dress — it very often wears a
homely dress, thank God ! — when he replied to him.

" Martm," he said, " I don't know what is in your mind,
or who has abused it, or by what extraordinary means. But
the means are false. There is no truth whatever in the im-
pression under which you labor. It is a delusion from first
to last ; and I warn you that you will deeply regret the wrong
you do me. I can honestly say that I have been true to you,
and to myself. You will be very sorry for this. Indeed, you
will be very sorry for it, Martin."

" I am sorr}'," returned Martin, shaking his head. " I
think I never knew what it was to be sorry in my heart, until

now."

"At least," said Tom, "if I had always been what you
charge me with being now, and had never had a place in your
regard, but had always been despised by you, and had always
deserved it, you should tell me in what you ha\'e found me to
be treacherous ; and on what grounds you proceed. I do not
entreat you, therefore, to give me that satisfaction as a favor,
Martin, but I ask it of you as a right."

" My own eyes are my witnesses," returned Martin. " Am
I to believe them ? "

" No," said Tom, calmly. " Not if they accuse me."

"Your own words. Your own manner," pursued Martin.
" Am I to belie\e them /"

" No," replied Tom, calmly. " Not if they accuse me.
But they never have accused me. Whoever has preverted
them to such a purpose, has wronged me, almost as cruelly :
his calmness rather failed him here ; " as you have done."

" I came here," said Martin ; " and I appeal to your good
sister to hear me — "

" Not to her," interrupted Tom. " Tray, do not appeal to
her. She will never believe you."

7

6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

He drew her arm through his own, as he said it.

•' /believe it, Tom ! "

"No, no," cried Tom, "of course not. I said so. Why,
tut, tut, tut. What a silly little thing you are ! "

" I never meant," said Martm, hastily, to appeal to you
against your brother. Do not think me so unmanly and un-
kind. I merely appealed to you to hear my declaration, that
I came here for no purpose of reproach — I have not one re-
proach to vent — but in deep regret. You could not know in
what bitterness of regret, unless you knew how often I have
thought of Tom ; how long in almost hopeless circumstances,
I have looked forward to the better estimation of his friend-
ship ; and how steadfastly I have believed and trusted in
him."

"Tut, tut," said Tom, stopping her as she was about to
speak. " He is mistaken. He is deceived. Why should you
mind ? He is sure to be set right at last."

" Heaven bless the day that sets me right I " cried Martin,
" if it could ever come ! "

" Amen ! " said Tom. " And it will ! "

Martin paused, and then said in a still milder voice :

" You have chosen for yourself, Tom, and will be relieved
by our parting. It is not an angr}' one. There is no anger
on my side — "

" There is none on mine," said Tom.

" — it is merely what you have brought about, and worked
to bring about. I say again, you have chosen for yourself.
You have made the choice that might have been expected in
most people situated as you are, but which I did not expect
in you. For that, perhaps, I should blame my own judgment
more than you. There is wealth and favor worth having, on
one side ; and there is the worthless friendship of an aban-
doned, struggling fellow, on the other. You were free to make
your election, and you made it ; and the choice was not diffi-
cult. But those who have not the courage to resist such
temptations, should have the courage to avow that they have
yielded to them ; and I do blame you for this, Tom : that you
received me with a show of warmth, encouraged me to be
frank and plain-spoken, tempted me to confide in you, and
professed that you were able to be mine ; when you had sold
yourself to others. I do not believe," said Martin, with emo-
tion : " hear me say it from my heart ; I cannot believe, Tom,
now that I am standing face to face with you, that it would

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. jSl

have been in your nature to do me any serious harm, even
though I had not discovered, by chance, in whose employment
you were. But I should have encumbered you ; I should have
led you into more double-dealing ; 1 should have hazarded
your retaining the favor for which you have paid so high a
price, bartering away your former self ; and it is best for both
of us that I have found out what you so much desired to keep
secret."

" Be just," said Tom ; who had not removed his mild gaze
from Martin's face since the commencement of this last ad-
dress ; " be just even in your injustice, Martin. You forget.
You have not yet told me what your accusation is ! "

" Why should I ? " returned' Martin, wa\ing his hand, and
moving towards the door. "You could not know it the better
for my dwelling on it, and though it would be really none the
worse, it might seem to me to be. No, Tom. Bygones shall
be bygones between us. I can take leave of you at this moment,
and in this place ; in which you are so amiable and so good ;
as heartily, if not as cheerfully, as ever I have done since we
first met. All good go with you, Tom !— I — "

" You leave me so ? You can leave me so, can you ? "
said Tom.

" I — you — you have chosen for yourself, Tom ! I — I hope
it was a rash choice," Martin faltered. " I think it was. I
am sure it was ! Good-by ! "

And he was gone.

Tom led his little sister to her chair, and sat down in his
own. He took his book, and read, or seemed to read. Pres-
ently he said aloud : turning a leaf as he spoke : " He will
be very sorry for this," and a tear stole down his face, and
dropped upon the page.

Ruth nestled down beside him on her knees, and clasped
her arms about his neck.

" No, Tom ! No, no ! Be comforted ! Dear Tom ! "

" I am quite — comforted," said Tom. " It will be set
right."

" Such a cruel, bad return ! " cried Ruth.

" No, no," said Tom. " He believes it. I cannot imagine
why. But it will be set right."

More closely yet she nestled down about him ; and wept
as if her heart would break.

" Don't. Don't," said Tom. " Why do you hide your face,
my dear ? "

762

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Then in a burst of tears, it all broke out at last.

*' Oh Tom, dear Tom, I know your secret heart. I have
found it out ; you couldn't hide the truth from me. Why
didn't you tell me ? I am sure I could have made you happier,
if you had ! You love her Tom, so dearly ! "

Tom made a motion with his hand as if he would have put
his sister hurriedly away ; but. it clasped upon hers, and all his
little history was written in the action. All its pathetic elo-
quence was in the silent touch.

"In spite of that," said Ruth, "you have been so faithful
and so good, dear ; in spite of that, you have been so true and
self-denying, and have struggled with yourself ; in spite of
that, you have been so gentle and so kind, and even-tempered,
that I have never seen you give a hasty look, or heard you
say one irritable word. In spite of all, you have been so cruelly
mistaken. Oh Tom, dear Tom, will this be set right too !
Will it, Tom ? Will you always have this sorrow in your
breast ; you who deserve to be so happy : or is there any
hope ! "

And still she hid her face from Tom, and clasped him
round the neck, and wept for him, and poured out all her
woman's heart and soul in the relief and pain of this dis-
closure.

It was not very long before she and Tom were sitting side
by side, and she was looking with an earnest quietness in
Tom's face. Then Tom spoke to her thus : cheerily, though
gravely.

" I am very glad, my dear, that this has passed between
us. Not because it assures me of your tender affection (for I
was well assured of that before), but because it relieves my
mind of a great weight."

Tom's eyes glistened when he spoke of her affection ; and
he kissed her on the cheek.

" My dear girl," said Tom: "with whatever feeling I re-
gard her ; " they seemed to avoid the name by mutual consent ;
" I have long ago — I am sure I may say from the very first
— looked upon it as a dream. As something that might pos-
sibly have happened under very different circumstances, but
which can never be. Now, tell me. What would you have
set right ? "

Siie gave Tom such a significant little look, that he was
oblised to take it for an answer whether he would or no ; and

to go on.

MA R TIN C MUZZLE WI T. 763

" By her own choice and free consent, my love, she is be-
trothed to Martin ; and was, long before either of them knew
of my existence. You would have her betrothed to me ? "

" Yes," she said directly.

" Yes," rejoined Tom, " but that might be setting it wrong,
instead of right. Do you think," said Tom, with a grave
smile, " that even if she had never seen him, it is very likely
she would have fallen in love with Me ? "

" Why not, dear Tom ? "

Tom shook his head, and smiled again.

" You think of me, Ruth," said Tom, " and it is very
natural that you should, as if I were a character in a book ;
and you make it a sort of poetical justice that I should, by
some impossible means or other, come, at last, to marry the
person 1 love. But there is a much higher justice than poeti-
cal justice, my dear, and it does not order events upon the
same principle. Accordingly people who read about heroes
in books, and choose to make heroes of themselves out
of books, consider it a very fine thing to be discontented
and gloomy, and misanthropical, and perhaps a little blas-
phemous, because they cannot have everything ordered
for their individual accommodation. Would you like me to
become one of that sort of people ? "

" No, Tom. But still 1 know," she added timidly, " that
this is a sorrow to you in your own better way."

Tom thought of disputing the position. But it would
have been mere folly, and he gave it up.

" My dear," said Tom, " I will repay your affection with
the Truth, and all the Truth. It is a sorrow to me. I have
proved it to be so sometimes, though I have always striven
against it. But somebody who is precious to you may die,
and you may dream that you are in lieaven with the departed
spirit, and you may find it a sorrow to wake to the life on
earth, which is no harder to be borne than when you fell
asleep. It is sorrowful to me to contemplate my dream,
which I always knew was a dream, even when it first pre-
sented itself ; but the realities about me are not to blame.
They are the same as they were. My sister, my sweet com-
panion, who makes this place so dear, is she less devoted to
me, Ruth, than she would have been, if this vision had never
troubled me? My old friend John, who might so easily have
treated me with coldness and neglect, is he less cordial to me ?
The world about me, is there less good in that ? Are my

764 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

words to be harsh and my looks to be sour, and is my heart
to grow cold, because there has fallen in my way a good and
beautiful creature, who but for the selfish regret that 1 cannot
call her my own, would, like all other good and beautiful
creatures, make me happier and better ! No, mv dear sister.
No," said Tom stoutly. " Remembering all my means of
happiness, I hardly dare to call this lurking something, a sor-
row ; but whatever name it may justly bear, I thank Heaven
that it renders me more sensible of affection and attachment,
and softens me in fifty ways. Not less happy. Not less
happy, Ruth ! "

She could not speak to him, but she loved him, as he well
deserved. Even as he deserved, she loved him.

" She will open Martin's eyes," said Tom, with a glow of
pride, " and that (which is indeed wrong) will be set right.
Nothing will persuade her, I know, that I have betrayed him.
It will be set right through her, and he will be \e.xy sorry for
it. Our secret, Ruth, is our own, and lives and dies with us.
I don't believe I ever could have told it you," said Tom,
with a smile, "but how glad I am to think you have found it
out ! "

They had never taken such a pleasant walk as they took
that night. Tom told her all so freely, and so simply, and
was so desirous to return her tenderness with his fullest con-
fidence, that they prolonged it far beyond their usual hour,
and sat up late when they came home. And when they
parted for the night there was such a tranquil, beautiful ex-
pression in Tom's face, that she could not bear to shut it out,
but going back on tip-toe to his chamber-door, looked in and
stood there till he saw her, and then embracing him again,
withdrew. And in her prayers, and in her sleep — -good times
to be remembered with such fervor, Tom ! — his name was up-
permost.

When he was left alone, Tom pondered very much on this
discovery of hers, and greatly wondered what had led her to
it. "Because," thought Tom, " I have been so very careful.
It was foolish and unnecessary in me, as I clearly see now,
when I am so relieved by her knowing it ; but I have been so
very careful to conceal it from her. Of course I knew that
she was intelligent and quick, and for that reason was more
upon my guard ; but I was not in the least prepared for this.
I am sure her discovery has been sudden too. Dear me ! "
said Tom. " It's a most singular instance of penetration ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 765

Tom could not get it out of his head. There it was, when
his head was on his pillow.

" How she trembled when she began to tell me she knew
it ! " thought Tom, recalling all the little incidents and cir-
cumstances ; " and how her face flushed ! But that was
natural ! Oh, quite natural ! That needs no accounting
for."

Tom little thought how natural it was. Tom little knew
that there was that in Ruth's own heart, but newly set there,
which had helped her to the reading of his myster\-. Ah,
Tom ! He didn"t understand tl.e whispers of the Temple
Fountain, though he passed it eveiy day.

Who so lively and cheerful as busy Ruth next morning !
Her early tap at Tom's door, and her light foot outside,
would have been music to him though she had not spoken.
But she said it was the brightest morning ever seen ; and so
it was ; and if it had been otherwise, she would have made it
so to Tom.

She was ready with his neat breakfast when he went
down stairs, and had her bonnet ready for the early walk,
and was so full of news, that Tom was lost in wonder.
She might have been up all night, collecting it for his enter-
tainment. There was Mr. Nadgett not come home yet, and
there was bread down a penny a loaf, and there was twice as
much strength in this tea as in the last, and the milkwoman's
husband had come out of the hospital cured, and the curly-
headed child over the way had been lost all yesterday, and
she was going to make all sort of preserves in a desperate
hurry, and there happened to be a saucepan in the house
which was the very saucepan for the purpose ; and she knew
all about the last book Tom had brought home, all through,
though it was a teazer to read ; and she had so much to tell
him that she had finished breakfast first. Then she had her
little bonnet on, and the tea and sugar locked up, and the
keys in her reticule, and the flower, as usual, in 1 om's coat,
and was, in all respects, quite ready to accompany him, be-
fore Tom knew she had begun to prepare. And in short, as
Tom said, with a confidence in his own assertion which
amounted to a defiance of the public in general, there never
was such a little woman.

She made Tom talkative. It was impossible to resist her.
She put such enticing questions to him ; about books, and
about dates of churches, and about organs, and about the

766 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT.

Temple, and about all kinds of things. Indeed, she lightened
the way (and Tom's heart with it) to that degree, that the
Temple looked quite blank and solitary when he parted from
her at the gate.

" No Mr. Fips's friend to day, I suppose," thought Tom,
as he ascended the stairs.

Not yet, at any rate, for the door was closed as usual, and
Tom opened it with his key. He had got the books into
perfect order now, and had mended the torn leaves, and had
pasted up the broken backs, and substituted neat labels for
the worn-out letterings. It looked a different place, it was
so orderly and neat. Tom felt some pride in contemplating
the change he had wrought, though there was no one to ap-
prove or disapprove of it.

He was at present occupied in making a fair copy of his
draught of the catalogue ; on which, as there was no hurry,
he was painfully concentrating all the ingenious and laborious
neatness he had ever expended on map or plan in Mr. Peck-
sniff's workroom. It was a very marvel of a catalogue ; for
Tom sometimes thought he was really getting his money too
easily, and he had determined within himself that this docu-
ment should take a little of his superfluous leisure out of
him.

So, with pens and ruler, and compasses and india-rubber,
and pencil and black ink, and red ink, Tom worked away all
the morning. He thought a good deal about Martin, and
their interview of yesterday, and would have been far easier in
his mind if he could have resolved to confide it to his friend
John, and to have taken his opinion on the subject. But be-
sides that he knew what John's boiling indignation would be,
he bethought himself that he was helping Martin now in a
matter of great moment, and that to deprive the latter of his
assistance at such a crisis of affairs, would be to inflict a seri-
ous injur}' upon him.

" So I'll keep it to myself," said Tom, with a sigh. " I'll
keep it to myself."

And to work he went again, more assiduously than ever,
with the pens, and the ruler, and the india-rubber, and the
pencil, and the black ink, and the red ink, that he might for-
get it.

He had labored away for another hour or more, when he
heard a footstep in the entry, down below.

"Ah! " said Tom, looking towards the door; "time was,

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

767

not long ago either, when that would have set me wondering
and expecting. But I have left off now."

The footstep came on, up the stairs.

" Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight," said Tom, count-
ing. " Now you'll stop. Nobody e\er comes past the thirty-
eight stair."

The person did stop, certainly, but only to take breath \
for up the footstep came again. Forty, forty-one, forty-two,
and so on.

The door stood open. As the tread advanced, Tom
looked impatiently and eagerly towards it. When a figure
came upon the landing, and arriving in the doorway, stopped
and gazed at him, he rose up from his chair, and half believed
he saw a spirit.

Old Martin Chuzzlewit ! The same whom he had left at
Mr. Pecksniff's, weak and sinking !

The same \ No, not the same, for this old man, though
old, was strong, and leaned upon his stick with a vigorous
hand, while with the other he signed to Tom to make no
noise. One glance at the resolute face, the watchful eye, the
vigorous hand upon the staff, the triumphant purpose in the
figure, and such a light broke in on Tom as blinded him.

"You have expected me," said Martin, "a long time."

" I was told that my employer would arrive soon," said
Tom; "but—"

" I know. You were ignorant who he was. It was my de-
sire. I am glad it has been so well observed. I intended to
have been with you much sooner. I thought the time had come.
I thought I could know no more, and no worse, of him, than
I did on that day when I saw you last. But I was wrong."

He had by this time come up to Tom, and now he grasped
his hand.

" I have lived in his house, Pinch, and had him fawning
on me days and weeks, and months. You know it. I have
suffered him to treat me like his tool and instrument. \'ou
know it ; you have seen me there. I have undergone ten
thousand times as much as I could have endured if I had
been the miserable weak old man he took me for. You know
it. I have seen him offer love to Mar\^ You know it ; who
better — who better, mv true heart ! I have had his base son
bare before me, day by day, and have not betrayed myself
once. T never could have undergone such torture but for
looking forward to this time."

768 MARTTX CHUZZLEWir.

He stopped, even in the passion of his speech ; if that
can be called passion which was so resolute and steady ; to
press Tom's hand again. Then he said, in great excite-
ment :

" Close the door, close the door. He will not be long
after me, but may come too soon. The time now drawing
on," said the old man, hurriedly : his eyes and whole face
brightening as he spoke ; " will make amends for all. I
wouldn't have him die or hang himself, for millions of golden
pieces ! Close the door ! "

Tom did so, hardly knowing yet whether he was awake, or
in a dream.

CHAPTER LI.

SHEDS NEW AND BRIGHTER LIGHT UPON THE VERY DARK
PLACE ; AND CONTAINS THE SEQUEL OF THE ENTER-
PRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS FRIEND.

The night had now come, when the old clerk was to be
delivered over to his keepers. In the midst of his guilty dis-
tractions, Jonas had not forgotten it.

It was a part of his guilty state of mind to remember it ;
for on his persistence in the scheme depended one of his pre-
cautions for his own safety. A hint, a word, from the old
man, uttered at such a moment in attentive ears, might fire
the train of suspicion, and destroy him. His watchfulness of
every avenue by which the discovery of his guilt might be
approached, sharpened with his sense of the danger by which
he was encompassed. With murder on his soul, and its in-
numerable alarms and terrors dragging at him night and day,
he would have repeated the crime, if he had seen a path of
safety stretching out beyond. It was in his punishment ; it
was in his guilty condition. The very deed which his fears
rendered insupportable, his fears would have impelled him to
commit again.

But keeping the old man close, according to his design,
would serve his turn. His purpose was, to escape, when the
first alarm and wonder had subsided : and when he could
make the attempt without awakening instant suspicion. In

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

769

the meanwhile these women would keep hun quiet j and if
the talking humor came upon him, would not be easily startled.
He knew their trade.

Nor had he spoken idly when he said the old man should
be gagged. He had resolved to ensure his silence ; and he
looked to the end, not the means. He had been rough and
rude and cruel to the old man all his life ; and violence was
natural to his mind in connection with him. " He shall be
gagged if he speaks, and pinioned if he writes," said Jonas,
looking at him ; for they sat alone together. " He is mad
enough for that ; I'll go through with it ! "

Hush I

Still listening ! To every sound. He had listened ever
since, and it had not come yet. The exposure of the Assur-
ance office ; the flight of Crimple and Bullamy with the
plunder, and among the rest, as he feared, with his own bill,
which he had not found in the pocket-book of the murdered
man, and which with Mr. Pecksniff's money had probably
been remitted to one or other of those trusty friends for safe
clesposit at the banker's : his immense losses, and peril of
being still called to account as a partner in the broken firm \
all these things rose in his mind at one time and always, but
he could not contemplate them. He was aware of their
presence, and of the rage, discomfiture, and despair, they
brought along with them ; but he thought — of his own con-
trolling power and direction he thought — of the one dread
question only. When they would find the body in the wood.

He tried — he had never left off trying — not to forget it was
there, for that was impossible, but to forget to weary himself
by drawing vivid pictures of it in his fancy : by going softly
about it and about it among the leaves, approaching it nearer
and nearer through a gap in the boughs, and startling the
very flies that were thickly sprinkled all ovei it, like heaps of
dried currants. His mind was fixed and fastened on the dis-
covery, for intelligence of which he listened inteftitly to every
cry and shout ; listened when any one came in, or went out ;
watched from the window the people who passed up and down
the street ; mistrusted his own looks and words. And the
more his thoughts were set upon the discoverv, the stronger
was the fascination which attracted them to the thing itself :
lying alone in the wood. He was for ever showing and
presenting it, as it were, to every creature whom he saw.
" Look here ! Do you know of this 1 Is it found >. Do you

49

770

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

suspect mcl " If he had been condemned to bear the body
in his arms, and lay it down for recognition at the feet of every
one he met, it could not have been more constantly with him,
or a cause of more monotonous and dismal occupation than it
was in this state of his mind.

Still he was not sorry. It was no contrition or remorse
for what he had done that moved him ; it was nothing but
alarm for his own security. The vague consciousness he
possessed of having wrecked his fortune in the murderous
venture, intensified his hatred and revenge, and made him set
the greater store by what he had gained. The man was dead ;
nothing could undo that. He felt a triumph yet, in the
reflection.

He had kept a jealous watch on Chufifey, ever since the
deed ; seldom leaving him but on compulsion, and then for as
short intervals as possible. They were alone together now.
It was twilight, and the appointed time drew near at hand,
Jonas walked up and down the room. The old man sat in his
accustomed corner.

The slightest circumstance was matter of disquiet to the
murderer, and he was made uneasy at this time by the absence
of his wife, who had left home early in the afternoon, and had
not returned yet. No tenderness for her was at the bottom
of this ; but he had a misgiving that she might have been
waylaid, and tempted into saying something that would
criminate him when the news came. For anything he knew,
she might have knocked at the door of his room, while he
was away, and discovered his plot. Confound her, it was like
her pale face, to be wandering up and down the house !
Where was she now ?

" She went to her good friend, Mrs. Todgers," said the old
man, when he asked the question with an angry oath.

Ay ! To be sure ! Always stealing away into the com-
pany of that woman. She was no friend of his. Who could
tell what devil's mischief they might hatch together ! Let her
be fetched home directly.

The old man, muttering some words softly, rose as if he
would have gone himself, but Jonas thrust him back into his
chair with an impatient imprecation, and sent a servant-girl
to fetch her. When he had charged her with her errand he
walked to and fro again, and never stopped till she came
back, which she did pretty soon : the way being shprt, and the
woman having made good haste.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

771

Well. Where was she? Had she come?

No. She had left there, full three hours.

" Left there ! Alone ? "

The messenger had not asked ; taking that for granted.

" Curse you for a fool. Bring candles ! "

She had scarcely left the room, when the old clerk, who
had been unusually observant of him ever since he had asked
about his wife, came suddenly upon him.

" Give her up ! " cried the old man. " Come ! Give her
up to me ! Tell me what you have done with her. , Quick !
I have made no promises on that score. Tell me what you
have done with her."

He laid his hands upon his collar as he spoke, and grasped
it : tightly too.

" You shall not leave me ! " cried the old man. " I am
strong enough to cry out to the neighbors, and 1 will, unless
you give her up. Give her up to me ! "

Jonas was so dismayed and conscience-stricken, that he
had not even hardihood enough to unclench the old man's
hands with his own ; but stood looking at him as well as he
could in the darkness, without moving a finger. It was as
much as he could do to ask him what he meant.

" I will know what you have done with her ! " retorted
Chufifey. " If you hurt a hair of her head, you shall answer
it. Poor thing ! Poor thing ! Where is she ? "

" Why, you old madman ! " said Jonas, in a low voice, and
with trembling, lips. " What Bedlam fit has come upon you
now ? "

" It is enough to make me mad, seeing what I have seen
in this house ! " cried Chuffey. " Where is my dear old
master ! Where is his only son that I have nursed upon my
knee, a child ! Where is she, she who was the last ; she that
I've seen pining day by day, and heard weeping in the dead
of night ! She was the last, the last of all my friends !
Heaven help me, she was the very last ! "

Seeing that the tears were stealing down his face, Jonas
mustered courage to unclench his hands, and push him off
before he answered :

"Did you hear me ask for her? Did you hear me send
for her? How can I give you up what I haven't got, idiot!
Ecod, I'd give her up to you and welcome, if I could ; and a
precious pair you'd be ! "

" If she has come to any harm," cried Chuffey, " mind !

772

MA K TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

I'm old and silly ; but I have my memory sometimes ; and if
she has come to any harm — "

" Devil take you," interrupted Jonas, but in a suppressed
voice still ; " what harm do you suppose she has come to ?
I know no more where she is than you do ; I wish I did.
Wait till she comes home, and see ; she can't be long. Will
that content you ? "

" Mind ! " exclaimed the old man. " Not a hair of her
head ! not a hair of her head ill-used ! I won't bear it. I — I
have boi;ae it too long, Jonas. I am silent but I — I — I can
speak. I — I — I can speak — " he stammered, as he crept back
to his chair, and turned a threatening, though a feeble, look
upon him.

" You can speak, can you ! " thought Jonas. " So, so, we'll
stop your speaking. It's well I knew of this in good time.
Prevention is better than cure."

He had made a poor show of playing the Bully and
evincing a desire to conciliate at the same time, but was so
afraid of the old man that great drops had started out upon
his brow ; and they stood there yet. His unusual tone of
voice and agitated manner had sufficiently expressed his fear ;
but his face would have done so now, without that aid, as he
had again walked to and fro, glancing at him by the candle-
light.

He stopped at the window to think. An opposite shop
was lighted up ; and the tradesman and a customer were read-
ing some printed bill together across the counter. The sight
brought him back, instantly, to the occupation he had forgotten.
" Look here ! Do you know of this .'' Is it found ? Do you
suspect me ? "

A hand upon the door. " What's that ! "

" A pleasant evenin'," said the voice of Mrs. Gamp,
" though warm, which, bless you, Mr. Chuzzlewit, we must
expect when cowcumbers is three for two-pence. How does
Mr. Chuffey find his self to-night, sir ? "

Mrs. Gamp kept particularly close to the door in saying
this, and curtseyed more than usual. She did not appear to
be quite so much at her ease as she generally was.

" Get him to his room," said Jonas, walking up to her. and
speaking in her ear. " He has been raving to-night — stark
mad. Don't talk while he's here, but come clown again."

" Poor sweet dear ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, with uncommon
tenderness. " He's all of a tremble."

MAR TIN CHUZZLEWTT. 773

" Well he may be," said Jonas " after the mad fit he has
had. Get him up stairs."

She was by this time assisting him to rise.

" There's my blessed old chick ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, in a
tone that was at once soothing and encouraging. " There's
my darlin' Mr. Chufifey ! Now come up to your own room,
sir, and lay down on your bed a bit ; for you're a shakin' all
over, as if your precious jints was hung upon wires. That's
a good creetur ! Come with Sairey ! "

" Is she come home ? " inquired the old man.

" She'll be here directly minnit," returned Mrs. Gamp.
" Come with Sairey, Mr. Chuffey. Come with your own
Sairey ! "

The good woman had no reference to any female in the
world in promising this speedy advent of the person for whom
Mr. Chuffey inquired, but merely threw it out as a means of
pacifying the old man. It had its effect, for he permitted her
to lead liim away : and they quitted the room together.

Jonas looked out of the window again. They were still
reading the printed paper in the shop opposite, and a third
man had joined in the perusal. What could it be, to interest
them so ?

A dispute or discussion seemed to arise among them, for
they all looked up from their reading together, and one of the
three, who had been glancing over the shoulder of another,
stepped back to explain or illustrate some action by his ges-
tures.

Horror! How like the blow he had struck in the wood !

It beat him from the window as if it had lighted on him-
self As he staggered into a chair he thought of the cnange
in Mrs. Gamp, exhibited in her new-born tenderness to her
charge. Was that because it was found ? — because she knew
of it ? — because she suspected him ?

" Mr. Chuffey is a lyin'down," said Mrs. Gamp, returning,
"and much good may it do him, Mr. Chuzzlewit, which harm
it can't and good it may, be joyful ! "

" Sit down," said Jonas, hoarsely, " and let us get this
business done. Where is the other woman ? "

"The other person's with him now," she answered.

"That's right," said Jonas. " He is not fit to be left to
himself. Why, he fastened on me to-night ; here, upon my
coat ; like a savage dog. Old as he is, and feeble as he is
usually, I had .some trouble to shake him off. You — Hush !

774

MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

— It's nothing. You told me the other woman's name. I for-
get it."

" I mentioned Betsey Prig,'" said Mrs. Gamp.

" She is to be trusted, is she ?"

" That she ain't ! " said Mrs. Gamp ; "nor have I brought
her, Mr. Chuzzlevvit. I've brouglit another, which engages to
give every satisfaction."

" What is her name ? " asked Jonas.

Mrs. Gamp looked at him in an odd way without return-
ing any answer, but appeared to understand the question too.

" What is her name ? " repeated Jonas.

"Her name," said Mrs. Gamp, "is Harris."

It was extraordinary how much effort it cost Mrs. Gamp to
pronounce the name she was commonly so ready with. She
made some three or four gasps before she could get it out ;
and, when she had uttered it, pressed her hand upon her side,
and turned up her eyes, as if she were going to faint away.
But, knowing her to labor under a complication of internal
disorders, which rendered a few drops of spirits indispensable
at certain times to her existence, and which came on very
strong when that remedy was not at hand, Jonas merely sup-
posed her to be the victim of one of these attacks.

" Well ! " he said, hastily, for he felt how incapable he
was of confining his wandering attention to the subject.
" You and she have arranged to take care of him, have you .'"'

Mrs. Gamp replied in the affirmative, and softly discharged
herself of her familiar phrase. " Turn and turn about ; one
off, one on." But she spoke so tremulously that she felt called
upon to add, " which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my
nerves this night ! "

Jonas stopped to listen. Then said, hurriedly :

" We shall not quarrel about terms. Let them be the same
as they were before. Keep him close, and keep him quiet.
He must be restrained. He has got it in his head to-night
that my wife's dead, and has been attacking me as if I had
killed her. It's — it's common with mad people to take the
worst fancies of those they like best. Isn't it .'' "

Mrs. Gamp assented with a short groan.

" Keep him close, then, or in one of his lits he'll be doing
me a mischief. And don t trust him at any time ; for when
he seems most rational, he's wildest in his talk. But that you
know already. Let me see the other."

"The t'other person, sir .'' " said Mrs. Gamp.

MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

in

" Ay! Go you to him and send the other. Quick ! I'm
busy."

Mrs. Gamp took two or three backward steps towards the
door, and stopped there.

"It is your wishes, Mr. Cliuzzlewit," she said, in a sort
of quavering croak, " to see the t'other person. Is it .? "

But the ghastly change in Jonas told her that the other
person was already seen. Before she could look round to-
wards the door, she was put aside by old Martin's hand ; and
Chuffey and John Westlock entered with him.

"Let no one leave the house," said Martin. "This man
is my brother's son. Ill-met, ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he
moves from the spot on which he stands, or speaks a word
above his breath to any person here, open the window, and
call for help ! "

" What right have you to give such directions in this
house? " asked Jonas faintly.

" The right of your wrong-doing. Come in there ! "

An irrepressible exclamation burst from the lips of Jonas,
as Lewsome entered at the door. It was not a groan, or a
shriek, or a word, but was wholly unlike any sound that had
ever fallen on the ears of those who heard it, while at the
same time it was the most sharp and terrible expression of
what was working in his guilty breast, that nature could have
invented.

He had done murder for this! He had girdled himself
about with perils, agonies of mind, innumerable fears, for this !
He had hidden his secret in the wood ; pressed and stamped
it down into the bloody ground ; and here it started up when
least expected, miles upon miles away ; known to many ; pro-
claiming itself from the lips of an old man who had renewed
his strength and vigor as by a miracle, to give it voice against
him !

He leaned his hand on the back of a chnir, and looked
at them. It was in vain to try to do so, scornfully ; or with
his usual insolence. He required the chair for his support.
But he made a struggle for it.

" I know that fellow," he said, fetching his breath at every
word, and pointing his trembling finger toward Lewsome.
" He's the greatest liar alive. What's his last tale ? Ha, ha I
You're rare fellows too ! Why, that uncle of mine is childish ;
he's even a greater child than his brother, my father, was, in
his old age ; or than CJhufl'ey is. What the dc\ il do you

-^5 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

mean," he added, looking fiercely at John Westlock and Mark

Tapley (the latter had entered with Lewsome), "by coming
here, and bringing two idots and a knave with you to take my
house by storm. Hallo, there ! Open the door ! Turn these
strangers out ! "

" I tell you what," cried Mr. Tapley, coming forward, "if
it wasn't for your name, I'd drag you through the streets of
my own accord, and single-handed, I would ! Ah, I would !
Don"t try and look bold at me. You can't do it ! Now go
on, sir," this was to old Martin. " Bring the murderin' waga-
bond upon his knees ! If he wants noise, he shall have
enough of it ; for as sure as he's a shivering from head to foot,
I'll raise a uproar at this winder that shall bring half London
in. Go on, sir ! Let him try me once, and see whether I'm a
man of my word or not."

With that, Mark folded his arms, and took his seat upon
the window-ledge, with an air of general preparation for any-
thing, which seemed to imply that he was equally ready to
jump out himself, or to throw Jonas out, upon receiving the
slightest hint that it would be agreeable to the company.

Old Martin turned to Lewsome :

"This is the man," he said, extending his hand towards

Jonas. " Is it ? "

" You need do no more than look at him to be sure of that,
or of the truth of what I have said. He is my witness."

" Oh, brother ! " cried old Martin, clasping his hands and
lifting up his eyes. " Oh, brother, brother ! Were we strangers
half our lives that you might breed a wretch like this, and I
make life a desert by withering every flower that grew about
me ! Is it the natural end of your precepts and mine, that
this should be the creature of your rearing, training, teaching,
hoarding, striving for : and I the means of bringing him to
punishment, when nothing can repair the wasted past ! "

He sat down upon a chair as he spoke, and turning away
his face, was silent for a few moments. Then with recovered
energy he proceeded :

" Biit the accursed harvest of our mistaken lives shall be
trodden down. It is not too late for that. You are confronted
with this man, yon monster there ; not to be spared, but to be
dealt with justily. Hear what he says ! Reply, be silent,
contradict, repeat, defy, do what you please. My course will
be the same. Go on ! And you," he said to Chuffey, "for
the love of your old friend, speak out, good fellow ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 777

" I have been silent for his love ! " cried the old man.
" He urged me to it. He made me promise it upon his dying
bed. I never would have spoken, but for you finding out so
much. I have thought about it ever since : I couldn't help
that : and sometimes I have had it all before me in a dream :
but in the day-time, not in sleep. Is there such a kind of
dream ? " said Chuffey. looking anxiously in old Martin's face

As Martin made him an encouraging reply, he listened at-
tentively to his voice ; and smiled.

"Ah, ay ! " he cried "He often spoke to me like that.
We were at school together, he and I. I couldn't turn against
his son, you know — his only son, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! "

" I would to heaven you had been his son ! " said Martin.

" You speak so like my dear old- master," cried the old
man with a childish delight, " that I almost think I hear
him. I can hear you quite as well as fused to hear him. It
makes me young again. He never spoke unkindly to me,
and I always understood him. I could always see him too,
though my sight was dim. Well, Well! He's dead, he's
dead. He was very good to me, my dear old master ! "

He shook his head mournfully over the brother's hand.
At this moment Mark, who had been glancing out of the win-
dow, left the room.

"I couldn't turn against his only son, you know," said
Chuffey. " He has nearly driven me to do it sometimes ; he
very nearly did it to-night. Ah !" cried the old man, with a
sudden recollection of the cause. " Where is she ! She's not
come home ! "

" Do you mean his wife ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit.

" Yes."

" I have removed her. She is in my care, and will be
spared the present knowledge of what is passing here. She
has known miser)' enough, without that addition."

Jonas heard this with a smking heart. He knew that they
were on his heels, and felt that they were resolute to run him
to destruction. Inch by inch the ground beneath him was
sliding from his feet ; faster and faster the encircling ruin con-
tractetl and contracted towards himself, its wicked centre, until
it should close in and crush him.

And now he heard the voice of his accomplice stating to
his face, with every circumstance of time and place and in-
cident ; and openly proclaiming, with no reserve, suppression,
passion, or concealment ; all the truth. The truth, which

778

MAR77N CHUZZLEIVIT.

nothing would keep down ; which blood would not smother,
and earth would not hide ; the truth, whose terrible inspira-
tion seemed to change dotards into strong men ; and on whose
avenging wings, one whom he had supposed to be at the ex-
tremest corner of the earth came swooping down upon him.

He tried to deny it, but his tongue would not move. He
conceived some desperate thought of rushing away, and tear-
ing through the streets ; but his limbs would as little answer
to his will as his stark, stiff, staring face. All this time the
voice went slowly on, denouncing him. It was as if every
drop of blood in the wood had found a voice to jeer him with.

When it ceased, another voice took up the tale, but
strangely ; for the old clerk, who had watched, and listened
to the whole, and had wrung his hands from time to time, as
if he knew its truth and could confirm it, broke in with these
words :

"No, no, no ! you are wrong; you're wrong — all wrong to-
gether ! Have patience, for the truth is only known to me ! "

"How can that be," said his old master's brother, "after
what you have heard ? Besides, you said just now, above
stairs, when I told you the accusation against him, that you
knew he was his father's murderer."

" Ay, yes ! and so he was ! " cried Chufifey wildly. " But
not as you suppose — not as you suppose. Stay ! Give me a
moment's time. I have it all here — all here ! It w^as foul,
foul, cruel, bad ; but not as you suppose. Stay, Stay ! "

He put his hands up to his head, as if it throbbed or pained
him. After looking about him in a wandering and vacant
manner for some moments, his eyes rested upon Jonas, when
they kindled up with sudden recollection and intelligence.

" Yes ! " cried old Chuffey, " yes ! That's how it was. It's
all upon me now. He — he got up from his bed before he
died, to be sure, to say that he forgave him, and he came
down with me into this room ; and when he saw him — his only
son, the son he loved — his speech forsook him : he had no
speech for what he knew — and no one understood him except
me. But I did— I did ! "

Old Martin regarded him in amazement ; so did his com-
panions. Mrs Gamp, who had said nothing yet ; but had
kept two-thirds of herself behind the door, ready for escape,
and one-third in the room, ready for siding with the strongest
party ; came a little further in and remarked, with a sob, that
Mr. Chuffey was "the sweetest old creetur goin'.

n

A/A A" TLV CHUZZLE WTT. 779

" He bought the stuff," said Chuffey, stretching out his
arm towards Jonas, while an unwonted fire shone in his eye,
and lightened up his face ; " he bought tiie stuff, no doubt, as
you have heard, and brought it home. He mixed the stuff
—look at him ! — with some sweetmeat in a jar, exactly as the
medicine for his father's cough was mixed, and put it in a
drawer ; in that drawer yonder in the desk ; he knows which
drawer I mean ! He kept it there locked up. But his cour-
age failed him, or his heart was touched — my God ! I hope
it was his heart ! He was his only son ! — and he did not put
it in the usual place, where my old master would have taken
it twenty times a-day."

The trembling figure of the old man shook with the strong
emotions that possessed him. But, with the same light in his
eye, and with his arm outstretched, and with his gray hair
stirring on his head, he seemed to grow in size, and was like
a man inspired. Jonas shrunk from looking at him, and cow-
ered down into the chair by which h.e had held. It seemed
as if this tremendous Truth could make the dumb speak.

" I know it every word now ! " cried Chuffey. " Every
word ! He put it in that drawer, as I ha\e said. He went
so often there, and was so secret, that his father took notice
of it ; and when he was out had it opened. We were there
together, and we found the mixture — Mr. Chuzzlewit and I.
He took it into his possession, and made light of it at the
time ; but in the night he came to my bed-side, weeping, and
told me that his own son had it in his mind to poison him.
' Oh, Chuff,' he said, 'oh, dear old Chuff ! a voice came into
my room to-night, and told me that this crime began with me.
It began when I taught him to be too covetous of what I ba\e
to leave, and made the expectation of it his great business ! '
Those were his words ; ay, they are his very words ! If he
was a hard man now and then, it was for his only son. He
loved his only son, and he was always good to me ! "

Jonas listened with increased attention. Hope was break-
ing in upon him.

" ' He shall not weary for my death. Chuff : ' that was
what he said next," pursued the old clerk, as he wiped his
eyes ; " that was what he said next, crying like a little child :
' He shall not weary for my death. Chuff. He shall have it
now ; he shall marry where he has a fanc}^ Chuff, although it
don't please me ; and you and 1 will go away and li\e upon a
little. I always loved him ; perhaps he'll lo\e mc then. It's

780 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

a dreadful thing to htive my own child thirsting for my death.
But I might have known it. I have sown, and I must reap.
He shall believe that I am taking this ; and when I see that
he is sorry, and has all he wants, I'll tell him that I found it
out, and I'll forgive him. He'll make a better man of his
own son, and be a better man himself, perhaps, Chutf ! ' "

Poor Chuffey paused to dry his eyes again. Old Martin's
face was hidden in his hands. Jonas listened still more
keenly, and his breast heaved like a swollen water, but with
hope. With growing hope.

" My dear old master made believe next day," said Chuf-
fey, " that he had opened the drawer by mistake with a key
from the bunch, which happened to fit it (we had one made
and hung upon it) ; and that he had been surprised to find
his fresh supply of cough medicine in such a place, but sup-
posed it had been put there in a hurry when the drawer stood
open. We burnt it ; but his son believed that he was taking
it — he knows he did. Once Mr. Chuzzlewit to try him took
heart to say it had a strange taste ; and he got up directly,
and went out."

Jonas gave a short, dry cough ; and, changing his position
for an easier one, folded his arms without looking at them,
though they could now see his face.

" Mr. Chuzzlewit wrote to her father ; I mean the father
of the poor thing who's his wife ; " said Chuffey ; " and got
him to come up : intending to hasten on the marriage. But
his mind, like mine, went a little wrong through gnef, and
then his heart broke. He sank and altered from "the time
when he came to me in the night ; and never held up his head
again. It was only a few days, but he had never changed so
much in twice the years. ' Spare him. Chuff ! ' he said, before
he died. They were the only words he could speak. ' Spare
him. Chuff!' I promised him I would. I've tried to do it.
He's his only son."

In his recollection of the last scene in his old friend's life,
poor Chuffey's voice, which had grown weaker and weaker,
quite deserted him. Making a motion with his hand, as if
he would have said that Anthony had taken it, and had died
with it in his, he retreated to the corner where he usually con-
cealed his sorrows ; and was silent.

Jonas could look at his company now, and vauntingly too.
" Well ! " he said, after a pause. " Are you satisfied t Or
have you any more of your plots to broach t Why that fellow,

MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 781

Lewsome, can invent 'em for you by the score. Is this all ?
Have you nothing else ? "

Old Martin looked at him steadily.

"Wliether you are what you seemed to be at Pecksniff's,
or are something else and a mountebank, I don't know and I
don't care," said Jonas, looking downward with a smile, " but
I don't want you here. You were here so often w-hen your
brother was alive, and were always so fond of him (your dear,
dear brother, and you would have been cuffing one another
before this, ecod !), that I am not surprised at your being at-
tached to the place ; but the place is not attached to you, and
you can't leave it too soon, though you may leave it too late.
And for my wife, old man, send her home straight, or it will
be the worse for her. Ha ha ! You carry it with a high
hand too I But it isn't hanging yet for a man to keep a
penn'orth of poison for his own purposes, and have it taken
from him by two old crazy jolter-heads who go and act a
play about it. Ha, ha ! Do you see the door ? "

His base triumph, struggling with his cowardice, and
shame, and guilt, was so detestable, that they turned away
from him, as if he were some obscene and filthy animal, repug-
nant to the sight. And here that last black crime was busy
with him too ; working within him to his perdition. But for
that, the old clerk's story might have touched him, though
never so lightly ; but for that, the sudden removal of so great
a load might have brought about some wholesome change
even in him. With that deed done, however ; with that un-
necessaiy wasteful danger haunting him ; despair was in his
very triumph and relief; wild, ungovernable, raging despair,
for the uselessness of the peril into which he had plunged ;
despair that hardened him and maddened him, and set his
teeth a grinding in a moment of his exultation.

" My good friend ! " said old Martin, laying his hand on
Chuffey's sleeve. " This is no place for you to remain in.
Come with me."

" Just his old way ! " cried Chuffey, looking up into his
face. " I almost believe it's Mr. Chuzzlewit alive again.
Yes ! Take me with you I Stay, though, stay."

" For what ? " asked old Martin.

" I can't leave her, poor thing ! " said Chuffey. "• She
has been very good to me. I can't leave her, Mr. Chuzzlewit.
Thank you kindly. I'll remain here. I haven't long to re-
main \ it's no great matter."

7 82 ^1/^-^^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

As he meekly shook his poor, gray head, and thanked old
Martin in these words, Mrs. Gamp, now entirely in the room,
was affected to tears.

" The mercy as it is ! " she said, " as sech a dear, good,
reverend creetur, never got into the clutches of Betsey Prig,
which but for me he would have done, undoubted, facts bein'
stubborn and not easy drove ! "

" You heard me speak to you just now, old man," said
Jonas to his uncle, " I'll have no more tampering with my
people, man or woman. Do you see the door.? "

" Do yoH see the door t " returned the voice of Mark, com
ing from that dirction. " Look at it I "

He looked, and his gaze was nailed there. Fatal, ill-
omened, blighted threshold, cursed by his father's footsteps
in his dying hour, cursed by his young wife's sorrowing tread,
cursed by the daily shadow of the old clerk's figure, cursed by
the crossing of his murderer's feet — what men were standing
in the doorway !

Nadgett foremost.

Hark ! It came on, roaring like a sea ! Hawkers burst
into the street, crying it up and down ; windows were thrown
open that the inhabitants might hear it ; people stopped to
listen in the road and on the pavement ; the bells, the same
bells, began to ring : tumbling over one another in a dance of
boisterous joy at the discovery (that was the sound they had
in his distempered thoughts), and making their airy playground
rock.

" That is the man," said Nadgett. " By the window !''

Three others came in, laid hands upon him, and secured
him. It was so quickly done, that he had not lost sight of the
informer's face for an instant when his wrists were manacled
together.

" Murder," said Nadgett, looking round on the astonished
group. " Let no one interfere."

The sounding street repeated Murder ,• barbarous and
dreadful Murder ; Murder, Murder, Murder. Rolling on from
house to house, and echoing from stone to stone, until the
voices died away into thedistant hum, which seemed to mutter
the same word !

They all stood silent : listening, and gazing in each other's
faces, as the noise passed on.

Old Martin was the first to speak. " What terrible history
is this ? " he demanded.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWfT. 7S3

" Ask him,^ said Nadgett. " You're his friend, sir. He
can tell you, if he will. He knows more of it than I do, though
1 know much."

" How do you know much ? "

" I have not been watching him so long for nothing," re-
turned Nadgett. " I never watched a man so close as I
have watched him."

Another of the phantom forms of this terrific Truth ! An-
other of the many shapes in which it started up about him, out
of vacancy. This man, of all men in the world, a spy upon
him ; this man, changing his identity : casting oil his shrinking,
purblind, unobservant character, and springing up into a
watchful enemy ! The dead man might have come out of his
grave, and not confounded and appalled him more.

The game was up. The race was at an end ; the rope was
woven for his neck. If, by a miracle, he could escape from
this strait, he had but to turn his face another way, no matter
where, and there would rise some new avenger front to front
with him ; some infant in an hour grown old, or old man in an
hour grown young, or blind man with his sight restored, or
deaf man with his hearing given him. There was no chance.
He sank down in a heap against the wall, and never hoped
again from that moment.

" I am not his friend, although I have the dishonor to be
his relative," said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " You may speak to me.
Where have you watched, and what have you seen .'' "

" I have watched in many places," returned Nadgett,
" night and day. I have watched him lately, almost without
rest or relief ; " his anxious face and bloodshot eyes confirmed
it. " I little thought to what my watching was to lead. As
little as he did when he slipped out in the night, dressed in
those clothes which he afterwards sunk in a bundle at London
Bridge ! "

Jonas moved upon the ground like a man in bodily torture.
He uttered a suppressed groan, as if he had been wounded by
some cruel weapon ; and plucked at the iron band upon his
wrists, as though (his hands being free) he would have torn
himself.

" Steady, kinsman ! " said the chief officer of the party.
" Don't be violent."

" Whom do you call kinsman ? " asked old Martin sternly.

" You," said the man, " among others."

Martin turned his scrutinizing gaze upon him. He was

y^^ MARTIN CHUZZLEWir.

sitting lazily across a chair with his arms restiiVa; on the back ;
eating nuts, and throwing the shells out of window as he
cracked them ; which he still continued to do while speaking.

" Ay," he said, with a sulky nod. You may deny your
nephews till you die, but Chevy Slyme is Chevy Slyme still, all
the world o\er. Perhaps even you may feel it some disgrace
to your own blood to be employed in this way. I'm to be
bought off."

" At every turn ! " cried Martin. " Self, self, self. Every
one among them for himself ! "

" You had better save one or two among them the trouble
then, and be for them as well as j'(7//;'self," replied his nephew.
" Look here at me ! Can you see the man of your family who
has more talent in his little finger than all the rest in their
united brains, dressed as a police officer without being
ashamed .'' I took up with this trade on purpose to shame you.
I didn' t think I should have to make a capture in the family,
though."

" If your debauchery, and that of your chosen friends, has
really brought you to this level," returned the old man, " keep
it. You are living honestly, I hope, and that's something."

" Don't be hard upon my chosen friends," returned Slyme,
" for they were sometimes your chosen friends too. Don't
say you never employed my friend Tigg, for I know better.
We quarrelled upon it."

" I hired the fellow," retorted Mr. Chuzzlewit, " and I
paid him."

" It's well you paid him," said his nephew, " for it would
be too late to do so now. He has given his receipt in full —
or had it forced from him rather."

The old man looked at him as if he were curious to know
what he meant, but scorned to prolong the conversation.

" I have always expected that he and I would be brought
together again in the course of business," said Slyme, taking
a fresh handful of nuts from his pocket ; " but I thought he
would be wanted for some swindling job : it never entered my
head that I should hold a warrant for the apprehension of his
murderer."

" His murderer ! " cried Mr. Chuzzlewit, looking from one
to another.

" His or Mr. Montague's," said Nadgett. " They are the
same, I am told. I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr.
Montague, who was found last night, killed in a wood. You

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

78s

will ask me why I accuse him, as you have already asked me how
I know so much. I'll tell you. It can't remain a secret long."

The ruling passion of the man expressed itself even then,
in the tone of regret in which he deplored the approaching
publicity of what he knew.

" I told you I had watched him," he proceeded. " I was
instructed to do so by Mr. Montague, in whose employment I
have been for some time. We had our suspicions of him ;
and you know what they pointed at, for you have been discuss-
ing it since we have been waiting here, outside the room. If
you care to hear now it's all over, in what our suspicions be-
gan, I'll tell you plainly : in a quarrel (it first came to our
ears through a hint of his own) between him and another
office in which his father's life was insured, and which had so
much doubt and distrust upon the subject, that he compounded
with them, and took half the money ; and was glad to do it.
Bit by bit, I ferreted out more circumstances against him,
and not a few. It required a little patience, but it's my call-
ing. I found the nurse — here she is to confirm me ; I found
the doctor, I found the undertaker, I found the undertaker's
man. I found out how the old gentleman there, Mr. Chuffey
had behaved at the funeral ; and I found out what this man,"
touching Lewsome on the arm, " had talked about in his fever.
I found out how he conducted himself before his father's
death, and how since, and how at the time ; and writing it all
down, and putting it carefully together, made case enough for
Mr. Montague to tax him with the crime, which (as he himself
believed until to-night) he had committed. I was by when
this was done. You see him now. He is only worse than he
was then."

Oh, miserable, miserable fool ! oh, insupportable, excrucia-
ting torture ! To find alive and active — a party to it all — the
brain and right-hand of the secret he had thought to crush !
In whom, though he had walled the murdered man up, by
enchantment in a rock, the story would have lived and walked
abroad ! He tried to stop iiis ears with his fettered arms,
that he might shut out the rest.

As he crouched upon the floor, they drew away from him
as if a pestilence were in his breath. They fell off, one by
one. from that part of the room, leaving him alone upon the
ground. Even those who had him in their keeping shunned
him, and (with the exception of Slyme, who was still occupied
with his nuts) kept apart.

50

786 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WTT.

" From that garret-window opposite," said Nadgett, point-
ing across the narrow street, " I have watched this house and
him for days and nights. From that garret-window opposite I
saw him return liome, alone, from a journey on which he had
set out with Mr. Montague. That was my token that Mr.
Montague's end was gained ; and I might rest easy on my
watch, though I was not to leave it until he dismissed me.
But, standing at the door opposite, after dark that same night,
I saw a countryman steal out of this house, by a side-door in
the court, who had never entered it. I knew his walk, and
that it was himself, disguised. I followed him immediately.
1 lost him on the western road, still travelling westward."

Jonas looked up at him for an instant, and muttered an
oath.

" I could not comprehend what this meant," said Nadgett ;
" but, having seen so much, I resolved to see it out, and
through. And I did. Learning, on inquiry at his house
from his wife, that he was supposed to be sleeping in the room
from which I had seen him go out, and that he had given
strict orders not to be disturbed, I knew that he was coming
back ; and for his coming back I watched. I kept my watch
in the street — in doorways, and such places — all that night ;
at the same window, all next day ; and when night came on
again, in the street once more. For I knew he would come
back, as he had gone out, when this part of the town was
empty. He did. Early in the morning, the same country-
man came creeping, creeping, creeping home."

" Look sharp! " interposed Slyme, who had now finished
his nuts. " This is quite irregular, Mr. Nadgett."

" I kept at the window all day," said Nadgett, without
heeding him. " I think 1 never closed my eyes. At night, I
saw him come out with a bundle. I followed him again. He
went down the steps at London Bridge, and sunk it in the
river. I now began to entertain some serious fears, and
made a communication to the Police, which caused that
bundle to be — "

" To be fished up," interrupted Slyme. " Be alive, Mr.
Nadgett."

" It contained the dress I had seen him wear," said
Nadgett ; " stained with clay, and spotted with blood. In-
formation of the murder was received in town last night.
The wearer of that dress is already known to have been seen
near the place ; to have been lurking in that neighborhood ;

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 787

and to have alighted from a coach coming from that part of
the country, at a time exactly tallying with the very minute
when I saw him returning home. The warrant has been out,
and these officers have been with me, some hours. We chose
our time ; and seeing you come in, and seeing this person at
the window — "

" Beci oned to him," said Mark, taking up the thread of
the narrc dvc, on hearing this allusion to himself, " to open
the door; v hich he did with a deal of pleasure."

"That"':, all at present," said Nadgett, putting up his
great poc) i:-book, which from mere habit he had produced
when he ve'gan his revelation, and had kept in his hand all
the tim'. ; 'but there is plenty more to come. You asked
me for ti ,-- facts, so far I have related them, and need not
detain ti- r..e gentlemen any longer. Are you ready, Mr.
Sly me?', r-

"An ssomething more," replied that worthy rising. "If
you wa' round to the office, we shall be there as soon as
you. 'J n ! Get a coach ! "

The jfficer to whom he spoke departed for that purpose.
Old Martin lingered for a few moments, as if he would have
address( \ some words to Jonas ; but looking round, and
. seeing him still seated on the floor, rocking himself in a
savage jnanner to and fro, took Chuffey's arm, and slowly
followed Nadgett out. John Westlock and Mark Tapley
acconp' nied them. Mrs. Gamp had tottered out first, for the
better aisplay of her feelings, in a kind of walking swoon ;
for Mr Gamp performed swoons of different sorts, upon a
moden lC notice, as Mr. Mould did Funerals.

" Ha ! " muttered Slyme, looking after them. " Upon my
soul 1 As insensible of being disgraced, by having such a
nephew as myself, in such a situation, as he was of my being
an honor and a credit to the family ! That's the return I get
for having humbled my spirit — such a spirit as mine — to earn
a livelihood, is it ? "

He got up from his chair, and kicked it away indignantly.

" And such a livelihood too ! When there are hundreds
of men, not fit to hold a candle to me rolling in carriages and
living on their fortunes. • Upon my soul it's a nice world ! "

His eyes encountered Jonas, who looked earnestly towards
him, and moved his lips as if he were whispering.

" Eh ? " said Slyme.

Jonas glanced at the attendant whose back was towards

788 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

him, and made a clumsy motion with his bound hands towards
the door.

" Humph ! " said Slyme, thoughtfully. " I couldn't hope
to disgrace him into anything when you have shot so far
ahead of me though. I fore:ot that."

Jonas repeated the same look and gesture.

"Jack! " said Slyme.

" Hallo ! " returned his man,

" Go down to the door, ready for the coach. Call out
when it comes. I'd rather have you there. Now then," he
added, turning hastily to Jonas, when the man was gone.
" What's the matter t " iv,

Jonas essayed to rise.

"Stop a bit," said Slyme. "It's not so easy when your
wrists are tight together. Now then ! Up ! What is it ? "

" Put your hand in my pocket. Here ! The breast
pocket, on the left ! " said Jonas. i

He did so ; and drew out a purse.

" There's a hundred pound in it," said Jonas, whose words
were almost unintelligible ; as his face, in its pallor and
agony, was scarcely human.

Slyme looked at him ; ga\'e it into his hands ; and shook
his head.

" I can't. I daren't. 1 couldn't if I dared. Those fel-
lows below — "

" Escape's impossible," said Jonas. " I know it. One
hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room ! "

" What to do ! " he asked.

The face of his prisoner as he advanced to whisper in his
ear, made him recoil inxoluntarily. But he stopped and lis-
tened to him. The words were few, but his own face changed
as he heard them.

" I have it about me," said Jonas, putting his hands to
his throat, as though whate\er he referred to, were hidden in
his neck-kerchief. " How should you know of it ? How
could you know ? A hundred pound for only five minutes in
the next room ! The time's passing. Speak ! "

" It would be more — more creditable to the family," ob-
served Slyme, with trembling lips. • " I wish you hadn't told
me half so much. Less would have served your purpose.
You might have kept it to yourself."

"A hundred pounds for only five minutes in the next
room ! Speak ! " cried Jonas, desperately.

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 789

He took the purse. Jonas, with a wild unsteady step,
retreated to the door in the glass partition.

" Stop ! " cried Slyme, catching at his skirts. " I don't
know about this. Yet it must end so at last. Are you
guilty ? "

" Yes ! " said Jonas.

" Are the proofs as they were told just now ?

" Yes ! " said Jonas.

" Will you — will you engage to say a — a Prayer, now, or
something of that sort 1 " faltered Slyme.

Jonas broke from him without replying, and closed the
door between them.

Slyme listened at the keyhole. After that, he crept away
on tiptoe, as far off as he could ; and looked awfully towards
the place. He was roused by the arrival of the coach, and
their letting down the steps.

" He's getting a few things together," he said, leaning out
of window, and speaking to the two men below, who stood in
the full light of a street-lamp. " Keep your eye upon the
back, one of you, for form's sake."

One of the men withdrew into the court. The other,
seating himself on the steps of the coach, remained in conver-
sation with Slyme at the window ; who perhaps had risen to
be his superior, in virtue of his old propensity (one so much
lauded by the murdered man) of being always round the
corner. A useful habit in his present calling.

" Where is he ? " asked the man.

Slyme looked into the room for an instant and gave his
head a jerk, as much as to say, " Close at hand. I see him."

" He's booked," observed the man.

" Through," said Slyme.

They looked at each other, and up and down the street.
The man on the coach-steps took his hat off, and put it on
again and whistled a little.

'* I say ! He's taking his time ! " he remonstrated.

" I allowed him five minutes," said Slyme. " Time's more
than up, though. I'll bring him down."

He withdrew from the window accordingly, and walked
on tiptoe to the door in the partition. He listened. There
was not a sound within. He set the candles near it, that
they might shine through the glass.

It was not easy, he found, to make up his mind to the
opening of the door. But he tiung it wide open suddenly,

y fjo ^^--^ ^^ TIN C MUZZLE WIT.

and M'ith a noise ; then retreated. After peeping in and lis-
tening again, he entered.

He started back as his eyes met those of Jonas, standing
in an angle of the wall, and staring at him. His neck-ker-
chief was off ; his face was ashy pale.

"You're too soon," said Jonas, with an abject whimper.
" I've not had time. I have not been able to do it. I — five
minutes more — two minutes more ! — Only one ! "

Slyme gave him no reply, but thrustmg the purse upon him
and forcing it back into his pocket, called up his men.

He whined, and cried, and cursed, and entreated them,
and struggled, and submitted, in the same breath, and had no
power to stand. They got him away and into the coach,
where they put him on a seat ; but he soon fell moaning down
among the straw at the bottom, and lay there.

The two men were with him ; Slyme being on the box
with the driver ; and they let him lie. Happening to pass a
fruiterer's on their way, the door of which was open, though
the shop was' by this time shut, one of them remarked how
faint the peaches smelt.

The other assented at the moment, but presently stooped
down in quick alarm, and looked at the prisoner.

" Stop the coach ! He has poisoned himself ! The smell
comes from this bottle in his hand ! "

The hand had shut upon it tight. With that rigidity of
grasp with which no living man, in the full strength and
energy of life, can clutch a prize he has won.

They dragged him out, into the dark street ; but jury,
judge, and hangman, could have done no more, and could do
nothing now. Dead, dead, dead.

CHAPTER LH.

IN WHICH THE TABLES ARE TURNED COMPLETELY UPSIDE

DOWN.

Old Martin's cherished projects, so long hidden in his
own breast, so frequently \i\ danger of abrupt disclosure
through the bursting forth of the indignation he had hoarded

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 79 1

up, during his residence with Mr. Pecksniff, were retarded,
but not beyond a few hours, by tlie occurrences just now
related. Stunned, as he had been at first by the inteUigence
conveyed to him through Tom Pinch and John Westlock, of
the supposed manner of his brother's death ; overwhelmed as
he was by the subsequent narratives of Chuffey and Nadgett,
and the forging of that chain of circumstances ending in the
death of Jonas, of whicli catastrophe he was immediately in-
formed ; scattered as his purposes and hopes were for the
moment, by the crowding in of all these incidents between
hini and his end ; still their very intensity and the tumult of
their assemblage nerved him to the rapid and unyielding
execution of his scheme. In every single circumstance,
whether it were cruel, cowardly, or false, he saw the flowering
of the same pregnant seed. Self ; grasping, eager, narrow-
ranging, over-reaching self ; with its long train of suspicions,
lusts, deceits, and all their growing consequences ; was the
root of the vile tree. Mr. Pecksniff had so presented his
character before the old man's eyes, that he— -the good, the
tolerant, enduring Pecksniff — had become the incarnation of-
all selfishness and treachery ; and the more odious the shapes
in which those vices ranged themselves before him now, the
sterner consolation he had in his design of setting Mr. Peck-
sniff right, and Mr. Pecksniff's victims too.

To this work he brought, not only the energy and determi-
nation natural to his character (which, as the reader may
have observed in the beginning of his or her acquaintance
with this gentleman, was remarkable for the strong develop-
ment of those qualities) but all the forced and unnaturally
nurtured energy consequent upon their long suppression. And
these two tides of resolution setting into one and sweeping on,
became so strong and vigorous, that, to prevent themselves
from being carried away before it. Heaven knows where, was
as much as John Westlock and Mark Tapley together (though
they were tolerably energetic too) could manage to effect.

He had sent for John Westlock immediately on his arrival ;
and John, under the conduct of Tom Pinch, had waited on
him. Having a lively recollection of Mr. Tapley, he had
caused that gentleman's attendance to be secured, through
John's means, without delay ; and thus, as we have seen, they
had all repaired, together, to the City. But his grandson he
had refused to see until to-morrow, when Mr. Tapley was in-
structed to summon him to the Temple at ten o'clock in the

792 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT.

forenoon. Tom he would not allow to be employed in any-
thing, lest he should be wrongfully suspected ; but he was a
party to all their proceedings, and was with them until late at
night — until after they knew of the death of Jonas ; when he
went home to tell all these wonders to little Ruth, and to pre-
pare her for accompanying him to the Temple in the morning,
agreeably to Mr. Chuzzlewit's particular injunction.

It was characteristic of old Martin, and his looking on to
something which he had distinctly before him, that he com-
municated to them nothing of his intentions, beyond such hints
of reprisal on Mr. Pecksniff as they gathered from the game
he had played in that gentleman's house, and the brightening
of his eyes whenever his name was mentioned. Even to John
Westlock, in whom he was evidently disposed to place great
confidence (which may indeed be said of every one of them),
he gave no explanation whatever. He merely requested him
to return in the morning ; and with this for their utmost satis-
faction, they left him, when the night was far advanced, alone.

The events of such a day might ha\'e worn out the body
. and spirit of a much younger man than he, but he sat in deep
and painful meditation until the morning was bright. Nor
did he even then seek any prolonged repose, but merely slum-
bered in his chair, until seven o'clock, when Mr. Tapley had
appointed to come to him by his desire : and came — as fresh
and clean and cheerful as the morning itself.

" You are punctual," said Mr. Chuzzlewit, opening the
door to him in reply to his light knock, which had roused him
instantly.

" My wishes, sir," replied Mr. Tapley, whose mind would
appear from the context to have been running on the matri-
monial service, " is to love, honor, and obey. The clock's a-
striking now, sir."

"Come in ! "

" Thank'ee, sir, rejoined Mr. Tapley, " what could I do
for you first, sir.? "

" You gave my message to Martin t " said the old man,
bending his eyes upon him.

" I did, sir," returned Mark ; " and you never see a gentle-
man more surprised in all your born days than he was."

" What more did you tell him .? " Mr. Chuzzlewit inquired.

" Why, sir," said Mr. Tapley, smiling, " I should have
liked to tell him a deal more, but not being able, sir, I didn't
tell it him."

MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT.

793

You told him all you knew?"

"But it was precious little, sir," retorted Mr. Tapley.
"There was very little respectin' you that I was able to tell
him, sir. I only mentioned my opinion that Mr. Pecksniff
would find himself deceived, sir, and that you would find your-
self deceived, and that he would find himself deceived, sir."

" In what .'' " asked Mr. Chuzzlewit.

" Meaning him, sir ? "

" Meaning both him and me."

" Well, sir," said Mr. Tapley. " In your own opinions of
each other. As to him, sir, and his opinions, I know he's a
altered man. I know it. I know'd it long afore he spoke to
you t'other day, and I must say it. Nobody don't know half
as much of him as I do. Nobody can't. There was always a
deal of good in him, but a little of it got crusted over, some-
how. I can't say who rolled the paste of that 'ere crust my-
self, but "

" Go on," said Martin. " Why do you stop ? "

" But it — well ! I beg your pardon, but I think it may
have been you sir. Unintentional I think it may have been
you. I don't believe that neither of you gave the other quite
a fair chance. There ! Now I've got rid on it," said Mr.
Tapley in a fit of desperation : " I can't go a carryin' it about
in my own mind, bustin' myself with it ; yesterday was quite
long enough. It's out now. I can't help it. I'm sorry for it,
Don't wisit it on him, sir, that's all."

It was clear that Mark expected to be ordered out imme-
diately, and was quite prepared to go.

" So you think," said Martin, " that his old faults are, in
some degree, of my creation, do you ?"

" Well, sir," retorted Mr. 'I'apley, " I'm werry sorry, but
I can't unsay it. It's hardly fair of you, sir, to make a igno-
rant man conwict himself in this way, but I do think so. I
am as respectful disposed to you, sir, as a man can be ; but I
do think so."

The light of a faint smile seemed to break through the dull
steadiness of Martin's face, as he looked attentively at him,
without replying.

" Yet you are an ignorant man, you say," he observed after
a long pause.

" Wery much so," Mr. Tapley replied.

" And I a learned, well-instructed man, you think .■' "

" Likewise wery much so," Mr. Tapley answered.

yfj4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

The old man, with his chin resting on his hand, paced the
room twice or thrice before he added :

" You have left him this morning ? "

" Come straight from him now, sir."

" For what : does he suppose ? "

" He don't know what to suppose, sir, no more than my-
self. I told him jest wot passed yesterday, sir, and that you
had said to me, ' Can you be here by seven in the morning? '
and that you had said to him, through me, ' Can you be here
by ten in the morning .-' ' and that I had said ' Yes ' to both.
That's all, sir."

His frankness was so genuine that it plainly was all.

" Perhaps," said Martin, " he may think you are going to
desert him, and to serve me } "

" I have served him in that sort of way, sir," replied Mark,
without the loss of any atom of his self-possession ; " and we
have been that sort of companions in misfortune, that my
opinion is, he don't believe a word on it. No more than you
do, sir."

" Will you help me to dress ? and get me some breakfast
from the hotel ? " asked Martin.

" With pleasure, sir," said Mark.

"And by and by," pursued Martin, "remaining in the
room, as I wish you to do, will you attend to the door yortder
— give admission to visitors, I mean, when they knock .-' "

" Certainly, sir," said Mr. Tapley.

" You will not find it necessary to express surprise at their
appearance," Martin suggested.

"Oh dear no, sir! " said Mr. Tapley, "not at all."

Although he pledged himself to this with perfect confi-
dence, he was in a state of unbounded astonishment even
now. Martin appeared to observe it, and to have some sense
of the ludicrous bearing of Mr. Tapley under these perplexing
circumstances; for in spite of the composure of his voice and
the gravity of his face, the same indistinct light flickered on
the latter several times. Mark bestirred himself, however, to
execute the offices with which he was entrusted ; and soon
lost all tendency to any outward expression of his surprise, in
the occupation of being brisk and busy.

But when he had put Mr. Chuzzlewit's clothes in good
order for dressing, and when that gentleman was dressed and
sitting at his breakfast, Mr. Tapley's feelings of wonder began
to return upon him with great violence ; and, standing beside

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 795

the old man with a napkin nnder his arm (it was as natural
and easy a joke to Mark to be a butler in the Temple, as it
had been to volunteer as cook on board tlie Screw), he found
it difficult to resist the temptation of casting sidelong glances
at him very often. Nay, he found it impossible ; and accord-
ingly yielded to this impulse so often, that Martin caught him
in the fact some fifty times. The extraordinary things Mr.
Tapley did with his own face when any of these detections
occurred ; the sudden occasions he had to rub his eyes or his
nose or his chin ; the look of wisdom with which he immedi-
ately plunged into the deepest thought, or became intensely
interested in the habits and customs of the flies upon the
ceiling, or the sparrows out of doors ; or the overwhelming
politeness with which he endeavored to hide his confusion by
handing the muffins ; may not unreasonably be assumed to
have exercised the utmost power of feature that even Martin
Chuzzlewit the elder possessed.

But he sat perfectly quiet and took his breakfast at his leis-
ure, or made a show of doing so, for he scarcely ate or drank,
and frequently lapsed into long intervals of musing. When he
had finished, Mark sat down to his breakfast at the same
table ; and Mr. Chuzzlewit, quite silent still, walked up and
down the room.

Mark cleared away in due course, and set a chair out for
him, in which, as the time drew on towards ten o'clock, he
took his seat, leaning his hands upon his stick, and clench-
ing them upon the handle, and resting his chin on them again.
All his impatience and abstraction of manner had vanished
now ; and as he sat there, looking, with his keen eyes, steadily
towards the door, Mark could not help thinking what a firm,
square, powerful face it was ; or exulting in the thought that
Mr. PecksniiT, after playing a pretty long game of bowls with
its owner, seemed to be at last in a very fair way of coming
in for a rubber or two.

Mark's uncertainty in respect of what was going to be
done or said, and by whom to whom, would have excited him
in itself. But knowing for a certainty besides, that young
Martin was coming, and in a very few minutes must arrive, he
found it by no means easy to remain quiet and silent. But,
excepting that he occasionally coughed in a hollow and un-
natural manner to relieve himself, he behaved with great de-
corum through the longest ten minutes he had ever known.

A knock at the door. Mr. Westlock. Mr. Tapley, in ad-

796 MA R ThV CHUZZLE WIT.

initting him, raised his eyebrows to the highest possible pitch,
implying thereby that he considered himself in an unsatisfac-
tory position. Mr. Chuzzlewit received him very courteously.

Mark waited at the door for Tom Pinch and his sister,
who were coming up the stairs. The old man went to meet
them ; took their hands in his ; and kissed her on the cheek.
As this looked promising, Mr. Tapley smiled benignantly.

Mr. Chuzzlewit had resumed his chair, before young Mar-
tin, who was close behind them, entered. The old man,
scarcely looking at him, pointed to a distant seat. I'his was
less encouraging ; and Mr. Tapley's spirits fell again.

He was quickly summoned to the door by another knock.
He did not start, or cr)% or tumble down, at sight of Miss
Graham and Mrs. Lupin, but he drew a very long breath, and
came back perfectly resigned, looking on them and on the rest
with an expression which seemed to say, that nothing could
surprise him any more ; and that he was rather glad to have
done with that sensation for ever.

The old man received Mary no less tenderly than he had
received Tom Pinch's sister. A look of friendly recognition
passed between himself and Mrs. Lupin, which implied the
existence of a perfect understanding between them. It en-
gendered no astonishment in Mr. Tapley ; for, as he after-
wards observed, he had retired from the business, and sold
ofT the stock.

Not the least curious' feature in this assemblage was, that
everybody present was so much surprised and embarrassed
by the sight of everybody else, that nobody ventured to speak.
Mr. Chuzzlewit alone broke silence.

" Set the door open, Mark ! " he said ; " and come here."
Mark obeyed.

The last appointed footstep sounded now upon the stairs.
They all knew it. It was Mr. Pecksniff's ; and Mr. Peck-
sniff was in a hurry too, for he came bounding up with such
uncommon expedition that he stumbled twice or thrice.

" Where is my venerable friend 1 " he cried upon the up-
per landing ; and then with open arms came darting in.

Old Martin merely looked at him ; but Mr. Pecksniff
started back as if he had received the charge of an electric
batterv.

" My venerable friend is well } " cried Mr. Pecksniff.

" Quite well."

It seemed to reassure the anxious inquirer. He clasped

MA R TIN CIIUZZL E WIT.

797

his hands, and, looking upwards with a pious joy, silently
expressed his gratitude. He then looked round on the as-
sembled group, and shook his head reproachfully. For such
a man severely, quite severely.

" Oh, vermin ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. "Oh, bloodsuckers !
Is it not enough that you have embittered the existence of an
individual, wholly unparalleled ni the biographical records of
amiable persons ; but must you now, even now, when he has
made his election, and reposed his trust in a Numble, but at
least sincere and disinterested relative ; must you now, ver-
min and swarmers (I regret to make use of the strong ex-
pressions, my dear sir, but there are times when honest indig-
nation will not be controlled), must you now, vermin and
swarmers (for I will repeat it), taking advantage of his un-
protected state, assemble round him from all quarters, as
wolves and vultures, and other animals of the feathered tribe
assemble round — I will not say round carrion or a carcass, for
Mr. Chuzzlewit is quite the contrary — but round their prey —
their prey — to rifle and despoil \ gorging their voracious
maws, and staining their offensive beaks, with every descrip-
tion of carnivorous enjoyment ! "

As he stopped to fetch his breath, he waved them off, in a
solemn manner, with his hand.

" Horde of unnatural plunderers and robbers ! " he con-
tinued ; " leave him ! leave him, I say ! Begone ! Abscond !
You had better be off ! Wander over the face of the earth,
young sirs, like vagabonds as you are, and do not presume to
remain in a spot which is hallowed by the gray hairs of the
patriarchal gentleman to whose tottering limbs 1 have the
honor to act as an unworthy, but I hope an unassuming, prop
and staff. And you, my tender sir," said Mr. Pecksniff", ad-
dressing himself in a tone of gentle remonstrance to the old
man, " how could you ever leave me, though even for this short
period! You have absented yourself, I do not doubt, upon
some act of kindness to me ; bless you for it : but you must
not do it ; you must not be so venturesome. I should really
be angry with you if I could, my friend ! "

He advanced with outstretched arms to take the old man's
hand. But he had not seen how the hand clasped and
clutched the stick within its grasp. As he came smiling on,
and got within his reach, old Martin, with his burning indig-
nation crowded into one vehement burst, and flasliing out of
every line and wrinkle in his face, rose up, and struck him
down upon the ground.

798 MARTTJV CHUZZLEWIT.

With such a well-directed nervous blow, that down he
went as heavily and true as if the charge of a Life-Guardsman
had tumbled him out of a saddle. And whether he was
stunned by the shock, or only confused by the wonder and
novelty of this warm reception, he did not offer to get up
again ; but lay there, looking about him, with a disconcerted
meekness in his face so enormously ridiculous, that neither
Mark Tapley nor John Westlock could repress a smile, though
both were actively interposing to prevent a repetition of the
blow ; which the old man's gleaming eyes and vigorous
attitude seemed to render one of the most probable events in
the world.

"Drag him away! Take him out of my reach !" said
Martin ; "or I can't help it. The strong restraint I have put
upon my hands has been enough to palsy them. I am not
master of myself, while he is within their range, Dra"; him
away ! '

Seeing that he still did not rise, Mr. Tapley, without any
compromise about it, actually did drag him away, and stick
him up on the lioor, with his back against the opposite wall.

" Hear me, rascal ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " I have sum-
moned you here to witness your own work. I have summoned
you here to witness it, because I know it will be gall and
wormwood to you ! I have summoned you here to witness it,
because I know the sight of everybody here must be a dagger
in your mean false heart ! What ! do you know me as f am,
at last ! "

Mr. Pecksniff had cause to stare at him, for the triumph
in his face and speech and figure was a sight to stare at.

'' Look there ! " said the old man, pointing at him, and
appealing to the rest. " Look there ! And then — come hither,
my dear Martin — look here ! here ! here ! " At every repeti-
tion of the word he pressed his grandson closer to his breast.
■ _ " The passion I felt, Martin, when 1 dared' not do this," he
said, "was in the blow I struck just now. Why did we ever
part ! How could we ever part ! How could you ever fly
from me to him ! "

Martin was about to answer, but he stopped him, and
went on.

" The fault was mine no less than yours. Mark has told
me so to-day, and I have known it long ; though not so long
as I might have done. Mary, my love, come here."

And she trembled and was veiy pale, he sat her in his

MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 799

own chair, and stood beside it with her hand in his ; and
Martin standing by him.

"The curse of our house," said the old man, looking
kindly down upon her, " has been the love of self ; has ever
been the love of self. How often have I said so, when I
never knew that I had wrought it upon others ! "

He drew one hand through Martin's arm, and standing so,
between them, proceeded thus :

" You all know how I bred this orphan up, to tend me.
None of you can know by what degrees I have come to regard
her as a daughter ; for she has won upon me, by her self-
forgetfulness, her tenderness, her patience, all the goodness
of her nature, when Heaven is her witness that I took but
little pains to draw it forth. It blossomed without cultivation,
and it ripened without heat. I cannot find it in my heart to
say that I am sorry for it now, or yonder fellow might be
holding up his head."

Mr. Pecksniff put his hand into his waistcoat, and slightly
shook that part of him to which allusion had been made ; as
if to signify that it was still uppermost.

"There is a kind of selfishness," said Martin: "I have
learned it in my own experience of my own breast: which is
constantly upon the watch for selfishness in others ; and
holding others at a distance by suspicions and distrusts,
wonders why they don't approach, and don't confide, and
calls that selfishness in them. Thus I once doubted those
about me — not without reason in the beginning — and thus 1
once doubted you, Martin."

" Not without reason," Martin answered ; " either."
" Listen, hypocrite ! Listen, smooth-tongued, servile,
crawling knave ! " said Martin. " Listen, you shallow dog.
What ! When I was seeking him, you had already spread
your nets ; you were already fishing for him, were ye ? When
I lay ill in this good woman's house, and your meek spirit
pleaded for my grandson, you had already caught him, had
ye .'' Counting on the restoration of the love you knew I bore
him, you designed him for one of your two daughters, did \e ?
Or failing that, you traded in him as a speculation which at
any rate should blind me with the lustre of your charity, and
found a claim upon me ! Why, even then I knew you, and I
told you so. Did I tell you that I knew you, even then ? "

"I am not angry, sir," said Mr. I'ocksniff, softy. " I can
bear a great deal from you. 1 will never contradict you, Mr.
Chuzzlcwit."

8 oo MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" Observe ! " said Martin, looking round. " I put myself
in that man's hands on terms as mean and base, and as de-
grading to himself as 1 could render them in words. I stated
them at length to him, before his own children, syllable by
syllable, as coarsely as I could, and with as much offence,
and with as plain an exposition of my contempt, as words —
not looks and manner merely — could convey. If I had only
called the angry blood into his face, I would have wavered in
my purpose. If I had only stung him into being a man for a
minute I would have abandoned it. If he had offered me
c ne word of remonstrance, in favor of the grandson whom he
supposed I had disinherited ; if he had pleaded with me,
though never so faintly, against my appeal to him to abandon
him to misery and cast him from his house ; I think I could
have borne with him for ever afterwards. But not a word,
not a word. Pandering to the worst of human passions was
the office of his nature ; and faithfully he did his work ! "

" I am not angry," observed Mr. Pecksniff. "I am hurt,
Mr, Chuzzlewit : wounded in my feelings : but I am not
angry, my good sir."

Mr. Chuzzlewit resumed.

"Once resolved to try him, I was resolute to pursue the
trial to the end ; but while I was bent on fathoming the depth
of his duplicity, I made a sacred compact with myself tliat I
would give him credit on the other side for any latent spark
of goodness, honor, forbearance — any virtue — that might
glimmer in him. From first to last, there has been no such
thing. Not once. He cannot say I have not given him
opportunity. He cannot say I have ever led him on. He
cannot say I have not left him freely to himself in all things ;
or that I have not been a passive instrument in his hands,
which he might have used for good as easily as evil. Or if
he can, he lies ! And that's his nature too."

" Mr. Chuzzlewit," interrupted Pecksniff, shedding tears.
" I am not angry, sir. I cannot be angry with you. But did
you never, my dear sir, express a desire that the unnatural
young man who by his wicked arts has estranged your good
opinion from me, for the time being: only for the time being:
that your grandson, Mr. Chuzzlewit, should be dismissed my
house ? Recollect yourself, my Christian friend."

" I have said so, have I not ? " retorted the old man,
sternly. '* I could not tell how far your specious hypocrisy
had deceived him, knave ; and knew no better way of opening

MAI? TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 80 1

his eyes than by presenting you before him in your own ser-
vile cliaracter. Yes. I did express that desire. And you
leaped to meet it ; and you met it ; and turning in an instant
on the hand you had licked and beslavered, as only such
hounds can, you strengthened, and confirmed, and justified me
in my scheme."

Mr. Pecksniff made a bow : a submissive, not to say, a
grovelling and an abject bow. If he had been complimented
on his practice of the loftiest virtues, he never could have
bowed as he bowed then.

" The wretched man who has been murdered," Mr. Chuz-
zlewit went on to say : " then passing by the name of "

" Tigg," suggested Mark.

" Of Tigg — brought begging messages to me, on behalf of
a friend of his, and an unworthy relative of mine ; and finding
him a man well enough suited to my purpose, I employed him
to glean some news of you, Martin, for me. It was from him
I learned that you had taken up your abode wdth yonder fellow.
It was he, who meeting you here, in town, one evening— you
remember where ? "

" At the pawnbroker's shop," said Martin.

" Yes ; watched you to your lodging, and enabled me to
send you a Bank note."

" I little thought," said Martin, greatly moved, " that it
had come from you. I little thought that you were interested
in my fate. If I had "

" If you had," returned the old man, sorrowfully, " you
would have shown less knowledge of me as I seemed to be,
and as I really was. I hoped to bring you back, Martin,
penitent and humbled. I hoped to distress you into coming
back to me. Much as I loved vou, I had that to acknowledge
which I could not reconcile it to myself to avow, then, unless
you made submission to me, first. Thus it was I lost you.
If I have had, indirectly, any act or part in the fate of that
unhappy man, by putting means, however small, within his
reach ; Heaven forgive me 1 I might have known, perhaps,
that he would misuse money ; that it was ill-bestowed upon
him ; and that sown by his hands, it could engender miscliief
only. But I never thought of him at that time, as having the
disposition or ability to be a serious impostor, or otherwise
than as a thoughtless, idle-humored, dissipated spendthrift,
sinning more against himself than others, and frequenting low
haunts and indulging vicious tastes, to his own ruin only,"

51

8o2 MARTIN CITUZZLEWIT.

Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Mr. Tapley, who had
Mrs. Lupin on his arm by this time, quite agreeably : "' if I
may make so bold as say so, my opinion is, as you was quite
correct, and that he turned out perfectly nat'ral for all that.
There's a surprisin' number of men, sir, who as long as they've
only got their own shoes and stockings to depend upon, will
walk down-hill, along the gutters quiet enough, and by them-
selves, and not do much harm. But set any on 'em up with
a coach and horses, sir ; and it's wonderful what a knowledge
of drivin' he'll show, and how he'll fill his wehicle with pas-
sengers, and start off in the middle of the road, neck or
nothing, to the Devil ! Bless your heart, sir, there's ever so
many Tiggs a passing this here Temple-gate any hour in the
day, that only want a chance, to turn out full-blown Monta-
gues every one ! "

" Your ignorance, as you call it, Mark," said Mr. Chuz-
lewit, " is wiser than some men's enlightenment, and mine
among them. You are right ; not for the first time to-day.
Now hear me out, my dears. And hear me, you, who, if what
I have been told be accurately stated, are Bankrupt in pocket
no less than in good name ! And when you have heard me,
leave this place, and poison my sight no more ! "

Mr. Pecksniff" laid his hand upon his breast, and bowed

agam

" The penance I have done in this house," said Mr. Chuz-
zlewit, " has carried this reflection with it constantly, above
all others. That if it had pleased Heaven to visit such in-
firmity on my old age as really had reduced me to the state in
which I feigned to be, I should have brought its misery upon
myself. Oh you whose wealth, like mine, has been a source
of continual unhappiness, leading you to distrust the nearest
and dearest, and to dig yourself a living grave of suspicion and
reserve ; take heed that, having cast off all whom you might
have bound to you, and tenderly, you do not become in your
decay the instrument of such a man as this, and waken in an-
other world to the knowledge of such wrong, as would embit-
ter Heaven itself, if wrong or you could ever reach it ! "

And then he told them, how he had sometimes thought, in
the beginning, that love might grow up between Mary and
Martin ; andhow he had pleased his fancy with the picture
of- observing it when it was new, and taking them to task,
apart, in counterfeited doubt, and then confessing to them that
it had been an object dear to his heart ; and by his sympathy

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 803

with them, and generous provision for their young fortunes,
establishing a claim on their affection and regard which nothing
should wither, and which should surround his old age with
means of happiness. How in the first dawn of this design,
and when the pleasure of such a scheme for the happiness of
others was new and indistinct within him, Martin had come to
tell him that he had already chosen for himself ; knowing that
he, the old man, had some faint project on that head, but
io-norant whom it concerned. How it was little comfort to
him to know that Martin had chosen Her, because the grace
of his design was lost, and because finding that she had re-
turned his love, he tortured himself with the reflection that
they, so young, to whom he had been so kind a benefactor,
were already like the world, and bent on their own selfish,
stealthy ends. How in the bitterness of this impression, and
of his past experience, he had reproached Martin so harshly
(forgetting that he had never invited his confidence on such a
point, and confounding what he had meant to do with what he
had done), that high words sprung up between them, and they
separated in wrath. How he loved him still, and hoped he
would return. How on the night of his illness at the Dragon
he had secretly written tenderly of him, and made him his
heir, and sanctioned his marriage with Mary ; and how, after
his interview with Mr. Pecksniff, he had distrusted liim again,
and burnt the paper to ashes, and had lain down in his bed
distracted by suspicions, doubts, and regrets.

And then he told them how, resohed to probe this Peck-
sniff, and to prove the constancy and truth of Mar}' (to himself
no less than Martin), he had conceived and entered on his
plan ; and how, beneath her gentleness and patience, he had
softened more and more ; still more and more beneath the
goodness and simplicity, the honor and the manly faith of Tom.
And when he spoke of Tom, he said God bless him ; and the
tears were in his eyes : for he said that Tom, mistrusted and
disliked by him at first, had come like summer rain upon his
heart ; and had disposed it to believe in better things. And
Martin took him by the hand, and Mary too, and John, his
old friend, stoutly too : and Mark, and Mrs. Lupin, and his
sister, little Ruth. And peace of mind, deep, tranquil peace
of mind was on Tom Pinch.

The old man then related how nobly Mr. Pecksniff had
performed the duty in which he stood indebted to society, in
the matter of Tom's dismissal ; and how, having often heard

8o4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWn.

disparagement of Mr. Westlock from Pecksniffian lips, and
knowing him to be a friend to Tom, he had used, through his
confidential agent and solicitor, that little artifice which had
kept him in readiness to receive his unknown friend in Lon-
don. And he called on Mr. Pecksniff (by the name of
Scoundrel) to remember that there again he had not trapped
him to do evil, but that he had done it of his own free will
and agency ; nay, that he had cautioned him against it. And
once again he called on Mr. Pecksniff by the name of Hang-
dog) to remember that when Martin coming home at last, an
altered man, had sued for the forgiveness which awaited him,
he, Pecksniff, had rejected him in language of his own, and
had remorselessly stepped in between him and the least touch
of natural tenderness. " For which," said the old man, " if
the bending of my finger would remove a halter from your
neck, I wouldn't bend it ! "

"Martin," he added, "your rival has not been a danger-
ous one, but Mrs. Lupin here, has played duenna for some
weeks ; not so much to watch your love as to watch her lover.
For that Ghoule " — his fertility in finding names for Mr.
Pecksniff was astonishing — " would have crawled into her
daily walks otherwise, and polluted the fresh air. What's
this ? Her hand is trembling strangely. See if you can hold
it."

Hold it ! If he clasped it half as tightly as he did her
waist Well, well !

But it was good in him that even then, in his high fortune
and happiness, with her lips nearly printed on his own, and
her proud young beauty in his close embrace, he had a hand
still left to stretch out to Tom Pinch.

" Oh, Tom ! Dear Tom ! I saw you, accidentally coming,
here. Forgive me ! "

" Forgive ! " cried Tom. " FU never forgive you as long
as I live, Martin, if you say another syllable about it. Joy to
you both ! Joy, my dear fellow, fifty thousand times."

Joy ! There is not a blessing on earth that Tom did not
wish them. There is not a blessing on earth that Tom would
not have bestowed upon them, if he could.

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Tapley, stepping for-
ward, " but you was mentionin', just now, a lady of the name
of Lupin, sir."

" I was," returned old Martin.

"Yes, sir. It's a pretty name, sir? "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

805

" A very good name," said Martin.

" It seems a'most a pity to change such a name into Tap-
ley. Don't it, sir t " said Mark.

" Tliat depends upon the lady. What is her opinion ? "

"Why, sir," said Mr. Tapley, retiring, with a bow, towards
the buxom hostess, " her opinion is as the name ain't a change
for the better, but the indiwidual may be, and therefore, if
nobody ain't acquainted with no jest cause of impediment, et
cetrer, the Blue Dragon, will be con-werted into the Jolly
Tapley. A sign of my own inwention, sir. Wery new, con-
wivial, and expressive ! "

The wjiole of these proceedings were so agreeable to Mr,
Pecksniff, that he stood with his eyes fixed upon the floor
and his hands clasping one another alternately, as if a host of
penal sentences were being passed upon him. Not only did
his figure appear to have shrunk, but his discomfiture seemed
to have extended itself, even to his dress. His clothes seemed
to have grown shabbier, his linen to have turned yellow, his
hair to have become lank and frowsy ; his very boots looked
villanous and dim, as if their gloss had departed with his own.

Feeling, rather than seeing, that the old man now point-
ed to the door, he raised his eyes, picked up his hat, and thus
addressed him :

" Mr. Chuzzlewit, sir ! you have partaken of my hospi-
tality."

" And paid for it," he observed.

" Thank you. That savors," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking
out his pocket handkerchief, " of your old familiar frankness.
You have paid for it. I was about to make the remark. You
have deceived me, sir. Thank you again. I am glad of it.
To see you in the possession of your health and faculties on
any terms, is, in itself, a sufficient recompense. To have
been deceived, implies a trusting nature. Mine is a trusting
nature. I am thankful for it. I would rather have a trusting
nature, do you know, sir, than a doubting one ! "

Here Mr. Pecksniff, with a sad smile, bowed, and wiped
his eyes.

"There is hardly any person present, Mr. Chuzzlewit,"
said Pecksniff, " by whom I have not been deceived. I have
forgiven those persons on the spot. That was my duty ; and,
of course, I have done it. Whether it was worthy of you to
partake of my hospitality, and to act the part you did act in
my house, that, sir, is a question which I leave to your own

8b6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

conscience. And your conscience does not acquit you. No,
sir, no ! "

Pronouncing these last words in a loud and solemn voice,
Mr. Pecksniff was not so absolutely lost in his own fervor as
to be unmindful of the expediency of getting a little nearer to
the door.

"I have been struck this day," said Mr. Pecksniff, "with
a walking-stick (which I have every reason to believe has
knobs upon it), on that delicate and exquisite portion of the
human anatomy, the brain. Several blows have been inflicted,
sir, without a walking stick, upon that tenderer portion of my
frame : my heart. You have mentioned, sir, my being bank-
rupt in my purse. Yes, sir, I am. By an unfortunate specu-
lation, combined with treachery, I find myself reduced to
poverty ; at a time, sir, when the child of my bosom is wid-
owed, and affliction and disgrace are in 'my family."

Here Mr. Pecksniff wiped his eyes again, and gave himself
two or three little knocks upon the breast, as if he were an-
swering two or three other little knocks from wdthin, given by
the tinkling hammer of his conscience, to express " Cheer up,
my boy !"

" I know the human mind, although I trust it. That is
my weakness. Do I not know, sir ; " here he became exceed-
ingly plaintive, and was observed to glance towards Tom
Pinch ; " that my misfortunes bring this treatment on me ?
Do I not know, sir, that but for them 1 never should have
heard what I have heard to-day? Do I not know, that in the
silence and the solitude of night, a little voice will whisper in
your ear, Mr. Chuzzlewit, ' This was not well. This was not
well, sir ! ' Think of this, sir (if you will have the goodness),
remote from the impulses of passion, and apart from the
specialities, if I may use that strong remark, of prejudice.
And if you ever contemplate the silent tomb, sir, which you
will excuse me for entertnining some doubt of your doing,
after the conduct into which you have allowed yourself to be
betrayed this day ; if you ever contemplate the silent tomb,
sir, think of me. If you find yourself approaching to the
silent tomb, sir, think of me. If you should wish to have
anything inscribed upon your silent tomb, sir, let it be, that I
— ah, my remorseful sir ! that I — the humble individual who
has now the honor of reproaching you, forgave you. That I
forgave you when my injuries were fresh, and when my bosom
was newly wrung. It may be bitterness to you to hear it now,

MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 807

sir, but you will live to seek a consolation in it. May you find
a consolation in it when you want it, sir ! Good morning ! "
With this sublime address, Mr. Pecksniff departed. But
the effect of his departure was much impaired by his being
immediately afterwards run against, and nearly knocked down
by, a monstrously-excited little man in velveteen shorts and a
ver)' taU hat ; who came bursting up the stairs, and straight
into the chambers of Mr. Chuzzlewit, as if he were deranged.

" Is there anybody here that knows him ? " cried the little
man. " Is there anybody here that knows him ? Oh, my
stars, is there anybody here that knows him ! "

They looked at each other for an explanation ; but nobody
knew anything more than that here was an excited little man
with a very tall hat on, running in and out of the room as
hard as he could go ; making his single pair of bright blue
stockings appear at least a dozen ; and constantly repeating
in a shrill voice, ' ' Is there anybody here that knows him ? "

If your brains is not turned topjy turjey, Mr. Sweedle-
pipes ! " exclaimed another voice, " hold that there nige of
yourn, I beg you, sir."

At the same time Mrs. Gamp was seen in the doorway ;
out of breath from coming up so many stairs, and panting
fearfully ; but dropping curtseys to the last.

" Excuge the weakness of the man," said Mrs. Gamp,
eyeing Mr.Sweedlepipe with great indignation ; " and well I
might expect it, as I should have know'd, and wishin' he was
drownded in the Thames afore I had brought him here, which
not a blessed hour ago he nearly shaved the noge off from the
father of as lovely a family as ever, Mr. Chuzzlewit, was born
three sets of twins, and would have done it, only he see it a
goin' in the glass, and dodged the rager. And never, Mr.
Sweedlepipes, I do assure you, sir, did I so well know what a
misfortun it was to be acquainted with you, as now I do,
which so I say, sir, and I don't deceive you ! "

" I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen all," cried the
little barber, taking off his hat, " and yours too, Mrs. Gamp.
But — but," he added this, half-laughing and half-crying, 'Is
there anybody here that knows him ! "

As the barber said these, words, a something in top-boots,
with its head bandaged up, staggered into the room, and
began going round and round, and round apparently under the
impression that it was walking straight forward.

"• Look at him ! " cried the excited little barber. " Here

8o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

he is ! That'll soon wear off, and then he'll be all right again.
He's no more dead than I am. He's all alive and hearty.
Ain't you Bailey ? "

" R — r— reether so, Poll ! " replied that gentleman.

" Look here ! " cried the little barber, laughing and crying
in the same breath, " When I steady him he comes all right.
There ! He's all right now. Nothing's the matter with'him
now, except that he's a little shook and rather giddy ; is there
Bailey .? "

"R — r — reether shook, Poll — reether so!" said Mr.
Bailey. " What, my lovely Sairey ! There you air ! "

" What a boy he is ! " cried the tender-hearted Poll,
actually sobbing over him. " I never see sech a boy ! It's
all his fun. He's full of it. He shall go into the business
along with me. I am determined he shall. We'll make it
Sweedlepipe and Bailey. He shall have the sporting branch
(what a one he'll be for the matches !) and me the shavin'.
I'll make over the birds to him as soon as ever he's well
enough. He shall have the little bullfinch in the shop, and
all. He's sech a boy! I ask your pardon, ladies and gentle-
men, but I thought there might be some one here that know'd
him ! "

Mrs. Gamp had observed, not without jealousy and scorn,
that a favorable impression appeared to exist in behalf of
Mr. Sweedlepipe and his young friend : and that she had
fallen rather into the background in consequence. She now
struggled to the front, therefore, and stated her business.

" Which, Mr. Chuzzlewit," she said, "is well beknown to
Mrs. Harris as has one sweet infant (though she do not wish it
known) in her own family by the mother's side, kep in spirits
in a bottle ; and that sweet babe she see at Greenwich Fair, a
travelling in company with the pink-eyed lady, Prooshan
dwarf, and livin' skelinton, which judge her feelins wen the
barrel organ played, and she was showed her own dear sister's
child, the same not bein' expected from the outside picter, where
it was painted quite contrairy in a li\in' state, a many sizes
larger, and performing beautiful upon the Arp, which never
did that dear child know or do : since breathe it never did, to
speak on, in this wale ! And Mrs. Harris, Mr. Chuzzlewit,
has knowed me many year, and can give you information that
the lady which is widdered can't do better and may do worse,
than let me wait upon her, which I hope to do. Permittin' the
sweet faces as I see afore me."

MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 809

" Oh ! " said Mr Chuzzlewit. " Is that your business ?
Was this good person paid for the trouble we gave her ? "

" I paid her, sir," returned Mark Taplay ; " Hberal."

"The young man's words is true," said Mrs. Gamp, " and
thank you kindly."

" Then here we will close our acquaintance, Mrs. Gamp,"
retorted Mr. Chuzzlewit. "And Mr. Sweedlepipe — is that
your name ? "

" That is my name, sir," replied Poll, accepting with a pro-
fusion of gratitude, some chinking pieces which the old man
slipped into his hand.

" Mr. Sweedlepipe, take as much care of your lady-lodger
as you can, and give her a word or two of good advice now
and then. Such," said old Martin, looking gravely at the
astonished Mrs. Gamp, " as hinting at the expediency of a
little less liquor, and a little more humanity, and a little less
regard for herself, and a little more regard for her patients,
and perhaps a trifle of additional honesty. Or when Mrs.
Gamp gets into trouble, Mr. Sweedlepipe, it had better not be
at a time when I am near enough to the Old Bailey, to volun-
teer myself as a witness to her character. Endeavor to im-
press that upon her at your leisure, if you please."

Mrs. Gamp clasped her hands, turned up her eyes until
they were quite uivisible, threw back her bonnet for the admis-
sion of fresh air to her heated brow ; and in the act of saying
faintly — " Less liquor ! — Sairey Gamp — Bottle on the chimney-
piece, and let me put my lips to it, when I am so dispoged ! "
— fell into one of the walking swoons ; in which pitiable state
she was conducted forth by Mr. Sweedlepipe, who, between
his two patients, the swooning Mrs. Gamp and the revolving
Bailey, had enough to do, poor fellow.

The old man looked about him, with a smile, until his eyes
rested on Tom Pinch's sister ; when he smiled the more.

" We will all dine here together," he said ; " and as you
and Mary have enough to talk of, Martin, you shall keep house
for us until the afternoon, with Mr. and Mrs. Tapley. I must
see your lodgings in the meanwhile, Tom."

Tom was quite delighted. So was Ruth. She would go
with them.

" Thank you, my love," said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " But 1 am
afraid I must take Tom a little out of the way, on business.
Suppose you go on first, my dear ? "

Pretty little Ruth was equally delighted to do that.

8 1 o MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT.

" But not alone," said Martin, " not alone. Mr. Westlock,
I dare say, will escort you."

Why, of course he would : what else had Mr. Westlock in
his mind .'' How dull these old men are !

" You are sure you have no engagement ? " he persisted.

Engagement ! As if he could have any engagement !

So they went ofif arm in arm. When Tom and Mr. Chuz-
zlewit went off arm in arm a few minutes after them, the
latter was still smiling : and really, for a gentleman of his
habits, in rather a knowing manner.

CHAPTER LIH.

WHAT JOHN WESTLOCfK 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.

Brilliantly the Temple Fountain sparkled in the sun,
and laughingly its liquid music played, and merrily the idle
drops of water danced and danced, and peeping out in sport
among the trees, plunged lightly down to hide themselves, as
little Ruth and her companions came towards it.

And why they came towards the Fountain at all is a
mystery ; for they had no business there. It was not in their
way. It was quite out of their way. They had no more to
do with the Fountain, bless you, than they had with — with
Love, or any out of the way thing of that sort.

It was all very well for Tom and his sister to make ap-
pointments by the Fountain, but that was quite another affair.
Because, of course, when she had to wait a minute or two, it
would have been very awkward for her to have had to wait in
any but a tolerably quiet spot ; and that was as quiet a spot,
everything considered, as they could choose. But when she
had John Westlock to take care of her, and was going home
with her arm in his (home being in a different direction al-
together), their coming anywhere near that Fountain, was
quite extraordinary.

However, there they found themselves. And another ex-

MAR TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 8 1 1

traordinaty part of the matter was, that they seemed to have
come there, by a silent understanding. Yet when they got
here, they were a Httle confused by being there, which was the
strangest part of all ; because there is nothing naturally con-
fusing in a Fountain. We all know that.

What a good old place it was ! John said. With quite an
earnest affection for it.

" A pleasant place indeed," said little Ruth. " So
shady!" • '

Oh wicked little Ruth !

They came to a stop when John began to praise it. The
day was exquisite ; and stopping at all, it was quite natural —
nothing could be more so — that they should glance down
Garden Court ; because Garden Court ends in the Garden,
and the Garden ends in the River, and that glimpse is very
bright and fresh and shining on a summer's day. Then, oh
little Ruth, why not look boldly at it ! Why fit that tiny pre-
cious, blessed little foot into the cracked corner of an insensi-
ble old flagstone in the pavement ; and be so veiy anxious to
adjust it to a nicety !

If the Fiery-faced matron in the crunched bonnet could
have seen them as they walked away, how many years' pur-
chase, might Fiery Face have been disposed to take for her
situation in Furnival's Inn as laundress to Mr. Westlock !

They went away, but not through London's streets !
Through some enchanted cit}^ where the pavements were
of air ; where all the rough sounds of a stirring town were
softened into gentle music ; where ever^' thing was happy ;
where there was no distance, and no time. There were two
good-tempered burly draymen letting down big butts of beer
into a cellar, somew'here ; and when John helped her — almost
lifted her — the lightest, easiest, neatest thing you ever saw —
across the rope, they said he owed them a good turn for
giving him the chance. Celestial draymen !

Green pastures in the summer tide, deep-littered straw-
yards in the winter, no stint of corn and clover, ever, to that
noble horse who would dance on the pavement with a gig
behind him, and who frightened her, and made her clasp his
arm with both hands (both hands : meeting one upon the
other, so endearingly !), and caused her to implore him to
take refuge in the pastry-cook's ; and afterwards to peep out
at the door so shrinkingly ; and then : looking at him with
those eyes : to ask him was he sure — now was he sure — they

8 1 2 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT.

might go safely on ! Oh for a string of rampant horses ! For
a lion, for a bear, for a mad bull, for anything to bring the
little hands together on his arm, again !

They talked, of course. They talked of Tom, and all
these changes, and the attachment Mr. Chuzzlewit had con-
ceived for him, and the bright prospects he had in such a
friend, and a great deal more to the same purpose. The
more they talked, the more afraid this fluttering little Ruth
became of any pause : and sooner than have a pause she
would say the same things over again ; and if she hadn't
courage or presence of mind enough for that (to say the
truth she very seldom had), she was ten thousand times more
charming and irresistible than she had be^n before.

" Martin will be married very soon now, I suppose ? " said
John.

She supposed he would. Never did a bewitching little
woman suppose anything in such a faint voice as Ruth sup-
posed that.

But feeling that another of those alarming pauses was ap-
proaching, she remarked that he would have a beautiful wife.
Didn't Mr. Westlock think so.?

" Ye — yes," said John ; "oh, yes."

She feared he was rather hard to please — he spoke so
coldly.

" Rather say already pleased," said John. " I have
scarcely seen her. I had no care to see her. I had no eyes
for hct% this morning."

Oh, good gracious !

It was well they had reached their destination. She never
could have gone any further. It would have been impossible
to walk in such a tremble.

Tom had not come in. They entered the triangular parlor
together, and alone. Fiery Face, Fiery Face, how many years'
purchase now !

She sat down on the little sofa, and untied her bonnet-
strings. He sat down by her side, and very near her: very,
very near her. Oh, rapid, swelling, bursting little heart, you
knew that it would came to this, and hoped it would. Why
beat so wildly, heart !

" Dear Ruth ! Sweet Ruth ! If I had loved you less, I
could have told you that I loved you, long ago. I have loved
you from the first. There never was a creature in the world
more truly loved than you, dear Ruth, by me ! "

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 813

She clasped her little hands before her face. The gushing
tears of joy, and pride, and hope, and innocent affection,
would not be restrained. Fresh from her full young heart
they came to answer him.

'" My dear love ! If this is — I almost dare to hope it is,
now — not painful or distressing to you, you make me happier
than I can tell, or you imagine. Darling Ruth ! My own
good, gentle, winning Ruth ! I hope I know the value of
your heart, I hope I know the worth of your angel nature.
Let me try and show you that I do ; and you will make me

happier, Ruth "

"Not happier," she sobbed, "than you make me. No
one can be happier, John, than you make me ! "

Fiery Face, provide yourself ! The usual wages or the
usual warning. It's all over, Fiery Face. We needn't trouble
you any further.

The little hands could meet each other now, without a
rampant horse to urge them. There was no occasion for
lions, bears, or mad bulls. It could all be done, and infinitely
better, without their assistance. No burly draymen or big
butts of beer, were wanted for apologies. No apology at all
was wanted. The soft light touch fell coyly, but quite natur-
ally upon the lover's shoulder ; the delicate waist, the drooping
head, the blushing cheek, the beautiful eyes, the exquisite
mouth itself, were all as natural as possible. If all the horses
in Araby had run away at once, they couldn't have improved
upon it.

They soon began to talk of Tom again.
" I hope he will be glad to hear of it ! " said John, with
sparkling eyes.

Ruth drew the little hands a little tighter when he said it,
and looked up seriously into his face.

" I am never to leave him, am I, dear ? I could never
leave Tom. I am sure you know that."

" Do you think I would ask you ? " he returned, with a —
well ! Never mind with what.

" I am sure you never would," she answered, the bright
tears standing in her eyes.

" And I will swear it, Ruth, my darling, if you please.
Leave Tom ! That would be a strange beginning. Leave
Tom, dear ! If Tom and we be not inseparable, and Tom
(God bless him) have not all honor and all love in our home,
my little wife, may that home never be ! And that's a strong
oath, Ruth."

8 1 4 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT.

Shall it be recorded how she thanked him ? Yes, it shall.
In all simplicity and innocence and purity of heart, yet with a
timid, graceful, half-determined hesitation, she set a little rosy
seal upon the vow, whose color was reflecting in her face, and
flashed up to the braiding of her dark brown hair.

" Tom will be so happy, and so proud, and glad," she said,
clasping her little hands. " But so surprised ! I am sure he
has never thought of such a thing."

Of course John asked her immediately — because you know
they were in that foolish state when great allowances must be
made — when she had begun to think of such a thing, and this
made a little diversion in their talk ; a charming diversion to
them, but not so interesting to us ; at the end of which, they
came back to Tom again.

" Ah ! dear Tom ! " said Ruth. " I suppose I ought to
tell you everything now. I should have no secrets from you.
Should I, John, love ? "

It is of no use saying how that preposterous John answered
her, because he answered in a manner which is untranslatable
on paper, though highly satisfactoiy in itself. But what he
conveyed was. No, no no, sweet Ruth ; or something to that
effect.

Then she told him Tom's great secret ; not exactly saying
how she had found it out, but leaving him to understand it if
he liked ; and John was sadly grieved to hear it, and was full
of sympathy and sorrow. But they would tr}% he said, only
the more, on this account, to make him happy, and to beguile
him with his favorite pursuits. And then, in all the confi-
dence of such a time, he told her how he had a capital oppor-
tunity of establishing himself in his old profession in the
country ; and how he had been thinking, in the event of that
happiness coming upon him which had actually come — there
was another slight diversion here — how he had been thinking
that it would afford occupation to Tom, and enable them to
live together in the easiest manner, without any sense of de-
pendence on Tom's part : and to be as happy as the day was
long. And Ruth receiving this with joy, they went on cater-
ing for Tom to that extent that they had already purchased
him a select library and built him an organ, on v/hich he was
performing with the greatest satisfaction : when they heard
him knocking at the door.

Though she longed to tell him what had happened, poor
little Ruth was greatly agitated by his arrival ; the more so

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 815

because she knew that Mr. Chuzzlewit was with him. So she
said, all in a tremble :

" What shall 1 do, dear John ! I can't bear that he should
hear it from any one but me, and I could not tell him, unless
we were alone."

"Do, my love," said John, "whatever is natural to you on
the impulse of the moment, and I am sure it will be right."

He had hardly time to say thus much, and Ruth had hardly
time to— just to get a little farther off — upon the sofa, when
Tom and Mr. Chuzzlewit came in. Mr. Chuzzlewit came first,
and Tom was a few seconds behind him.

Now Ruth had resolved that she would beckon Tom up
stairs after a short time, and would tell him in his little bed-
room. But when she saw his dear old face come in, her heart
was so touched that she ran into his arms, and laid her head
down on his breast, and sobbed out, " Bless me, Tom ! My
dearest brother ! "

Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John Westlock close
beside him, holding out his hand.

" John ! " cried' Tom. " John ! "

"Dear Tom," said his friend, "give me your hand. We
are brothers, Tom."

Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fer-
vently, and put her in John Westlock's arms.

" Don't speak to me John. Heaven is very good to us.

I " Tom could find no further utterance, but left the room ;

and Ruth went after him.

And when they came back, which they did by and by, she
looked more beautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that
were possible) than ever. And though Tom could not speak
upon the subject even now, being yet too newly glad, he puf
both his hands in both of John's with emphasis sufficient for
the best speech ever spoken.

" I am glad you chose to-day," said Mr. Chuzzlewit to
John, with the same knowing smile as when they had left
him. " I thought you would. I hope Tom and I lingered
behind a discreet time. It's so long since 1 had any practi-
cal knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, I
assure you."

"Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir," returned
John laughing, " if it led you to foresee what would happen
to-day."

" Why, I am not sure, Mr. Westlock," said the old man,

8j6 martin chuzzlewit.

''that any great spirit of prophecy was needed, after seeing
you and Ruth together. Come hither, pretty one. See what
Tom and I purchased this morning, while you were deaHng in
exchange with that young merchant there."

The old man's way of seating her beside him, and humor-
ing his voice as if she were a child, was whimsical enough, but
full of tenderness, and not ill adapted, somehow, to little
Ruth.

" See here ! " he said, taking a case from his pocket, " what
a beautiful necklace. Ah ! How it glitters ! Earrings, too,
and bracelets, and a zone for your waist. This set is yours,
and Mary has another like it. Tom couldn't understand whv
I wanted two. What a short-sighted Tom ! Earrings and
bracelets, and a zone for your waist ! Ah ! beautiful ! Let
us see how brave they look. Ask Mr. Westlock to clasp
them on."

It was the prettiest thing to see her holding out her round,
white arm ; and John (oh deep, deep John !) pretending that
the bracelet was very hard to fasten ; it was the prettiest thing
to see her girding on the precious little zone, and yet obliged
to have assistance because her fingers were in such terrible
perplexity : it was the prettiest thing to see her so confused
and bashful, with the smiles and blushes playing brightly on
her face, like the sparkling light upon the jewels ; it was the
prettiest thing that you would see, in the common experiences
of a twelvemonth, rely upon it.

"The set of jewels and the wearer are so well matched,"
said the old man, " that I don't know which becomes the
other most. Mr. Westlock could tell me, I have no doubt,
,but I'll not ask him, for he is bribed. Health to wear them
my dear, and happiness to make you forgetful of them, except
as a remembrance from a loving friend ! "

He patted her upon the cheek, and said to Tom :

" I must play the part of a father here, Tom, also. There
are not many fathers who marry two such daughters on the
same day ; but we will overlook the improbability for the grat-
fication of an old man's fancy. I may claim that much in-
dulgence," he added, " for I have gratified few fancies enough
in my life tending to the happiness of others, Heaven knows ! "

These various proceedings had occupied so much time,
and they fell into such a pleasant conversation now, that it
was within a quarter of an hour of the time appointed for din-
ner before any of them thought about it. A hackney-coach

MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 8

17

soon carried them to the Temple, however, and there they
found everything prepared for their reception.

Mr. Tapley iiaving been furnished with unUmited creden-
tials relative to the ordering of dinner, had so exerted himself
for the honor of the party, that a prodigious banquet was
served, under the joint direction of himself and his intended.
Mr. Chuzzlewit would have had them of the party, and Martin
urgently seconded his wish, but Mark could by no means be
persuaded to sit down at table ; observing, that in having the
honor of attending to their comforts, he felt himself, indeed,
the landlord of the Jolly Tapley, and could almost delude
himself into the belief that the entertainment was actually be-
ing held under the Jolly Tapley's roof.

For the better encouragement of himself in this fable, Mr.
Tapley took it upon him to issue divers general directions to
the waiters from the hotel, relative to the disposal of the dishes
and so forth ; and as they were usually in direct opposition to
all precedent, and were always issued in his most facetious
form of thought and speech, they occasioned great merriment
among those attendants ; in which Mr*. Tapley pardcipated,
with an infinite enjoyment of his own humor. He likewise
entertained them with short anecdotes of his travels, appro-
priate to the occasion ; and now and then with some comic
passage or other between himself and Mrs. Lupin ; so that
explosive laughs were constantly issuing from the side-board,
and from the backs of chairs ; and the head-waiter (who wore
powder, and knee-smalls, and was usually a grave man) got to
be a bright scarlet in the face, and broke his waistcoat-strings,
audibly.

Young Martin sat at the head of the table, and Tom Pinch
at the foot ; and if there were a genial face at that board, it
was Tom's. They all took their tone from Tom. Everybody
drank to him, everybody looked to him, eveiybody thought of
him, everybody loved him. If he so much as laid down his
knife and' fork, somebody put out a hand to shake with him.
Martin and Mary had taken him aside before dinner, and
spoken to him so heartily of the time to come, laying such
fervent stress upon the trust they had in his completion of
their felicit}', by his society and closest friendship, that Tom
was positively moved to tears. He couldn't bear it. His
heart was full, he said, of happiness. And so it was. Tom
spoke the honest truth. It was. Large as thy heart was,
dear Tom Pinch, it had no room that day, for anything but
happiness and sympathy ! 52

8 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

And there was Fips, old Fips of Austin Friars, present at
the dinner, and turning out to be the joUiest old dog that ever
did violence to his convivial sentiments by shutting himself
up in a dark office. " Where is he ! " said Fips, when he
came in. And then he pounced on Tom, and to.d him that
he wanted to relieve himself of all his old constraint : and in
the first place shook him by one hand, and in the second place
shook him by the other, and in the third place nudged him in
the waistcoat, and in the fourth place, said " How are you ! "
and in a great many other places did a great many other things
to show his friendliness and joy. And he sang songs, did
Fips ; and made speeches, did Fips ; and knocked off his wine
pretty handsomely, did Fips ; and in short, he showed himself
a perfect Trump, did Fips, in all respects.

But ah ! the happiness of strolling home at night — obsti-
nate little Ruth, she wouldn't hear of riding ! — as they had
done on that dear night, from Furnival's Inn ! The happiness
of being able to talk about it, and to confide their happiness
to each other ! The happiness of stating all their little plans
to Tom, and seeing his bright face grow brighter as they
spoke !

When they reached home, Tom left John and his sister in
the parlor, and went up stairs to his own room, under pre-
tence of seeking a book. And Tom actually winked to him-
self, when he got up stairs, he thought it such a deep thing
to have done.

" They like to be by themselves, of course," said Tom ;
" and I came away so naturally, that I have no doubt they are
expecting me, every moment to return. That's capital ! "

But he had not sat reading very long, when he heard a tap
at his door.

" May I come in ? " said John.

" Oh, surely ! " Tom replied.

" Don't leave us, Tom. Don't sit by yourself. We want
to make you merry ; not melancholy."

" My dear friend," said Tom, with a cheerful smile.

" Brother, Tom. Brother."

" My dear brother," said Tom ; " there is no danger of
my being melancholy, how can I be melancholy, when I know
that you and Ruth are so blest in each other ! I think I can
find my tongue to-night, John," he added, after a moment's
pause. " But I never can tell you what unutterable joy this
day has given me. It would be unjust to you to speak of your

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. S19

having chosen a portionless girl, for I feel that you know her
worth ; I am sure you know her worth. Nor will it diminish
in your estimation, John, which money might."

" Which money would, Tom," he returned. " Her worth }
Oh, who could see her here, and not love her ! Who could
know her, Tom, and not honor her ! Who could ever stand
possessed of such a heart as hers, and grow indifferent to the
treasure ! Who could feel the rapture that I feel to-day, and
love as I love her, Tom, without knowing something of her
worth ! Your joy unutterable ! No, no, Tom. It's mine, it's
mine."

" No, no, John," said Tom. " It's mine, it's mine."

Their friendly contention was brought to a close by little
Ruth herself, who came peeping in at the door. And oh, the
look, the glorious, half-proud, half-timid look she gave Tom,
when her lover drew her to his side ! As much as to say,
" Yes indeed, Tom, he will do it. But then he has a right,
you know. Because I am fond of him, Tom."

As to Tom, he was perfectly delighted. He could have
sat and looked at them, just as they were, for hours.

" I have told Tom, love, as we agreed, that we are not
going to permit him to run away, and that we cannot possibly
allow it. The loss of one person, and such a person as Tom,
too, out of our small household of three, is not to be endured ;
and so I have told him. Whether he is considerate, or whether
he is only selfish, I don't know. But he needn't be consider-
ate, for he is not the least restraint upon us. Is he, dearest
Ruth .? "

Well ! He really did not seem to be any particular re-
straint upon them. Judging from what ensued.

Was it folly in Tom to be so pleased by their remembrance
of him, at such a time ? Was their graceful love a folly, were
their dear caresses follies, was their lengthened parting folly ?
Was it folly in him to watch her window from the street, and
rate its scantiest gleam of lifrht above all diamonds : follv in
her to breathe his name upon her knees, and pour out her
pure heart before that Being, from whom such hearts and such
affections come t

If these be follies, then Fiery Face go on and prosper ! If
they be not, then Fiery Face avaunt ! But set the crunched
bonnet at some other single gentleman, in any case, for one is
lost to thee for ever !

8 2 o MAH TIN C MUZZLE WIT.

CHAPTER LIV.

GIVES THE AUTHOR GREAT CONCERN. FOR IT IS THE LAST

IN THE BOOK.

ToDGERs's was in high feather, and mighty preparations
for a late breakfast were astir in its commercial bowers. The
blissful morning had arrived when Miss Pecksniff was to be
united, in holy matrimony, to Augustus.

Miss Pecksniff was in a frame of mind, equally becoming
to herself and the occasion. She was full of clemencv and
conciliation. She had laid in several chaldrons of live coals,
and was prepared to heap them on the heads of her enemies.
She bore no spite nor malice in her heart. Not the least.

Quarrels, Miss Pecksniff said, were dreadful things in
families ; and though she never could forgive her dear papa,
she was willing to receive her other relations. They had been
separated, she observed, too long. It was enough to call down
a judgment upon the family. She believed the death of Jonas
was a judgment on them for their internal dissensions. And
Miss Pecksniff was confirmed in this belief, by the lightness
with which the visitation had fallen on herself.

By way of doing sacrifice — not in triumph ; not, of
course, in triumph, but in humiliation of spirit — this amiable
young person wrote, therefore, to her kinswoman of the strong
mind, and informed her, that her nuptials would take place on
such a day. That she had been much hurt by the unnatural
conduct of herself and daughters, and hoped they might not
have suffered in their consciences. That being desirous to
forgive her enemies, and make her peace with the world be-
fore entering into the most solemn of covenants with the most
devoted of men, she now held out the hand of friendship.
That if the strong-minded woman took that hand, in the tem-
per in which it was extended to her, she. Miss Pecksniff, did
invite her to be present at the ceremony of her marriage, and
did furthermore invite the three red-nosed spinsters, her
daughters (but Miss Pecksniff did not particularize their
noses) to attend as bridesmaids.

The strong-minded woman returned for answer, that her-
self and daughters were, as regarded their consciences, in the

MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 82 x

enjoyment of robust health, which she knew Miss Pecksnift
would be glad to hear. That she had received Miss Peck-
sniff's note with unalloyed delight, because she never had
attached the least importance to the paltry and insignificant
jealousies with which herself and circle had been assailed ;
otherwise than as she found them, in the contemplation, a
harmless source of innocent mirth. That she would joyfully
attend Miss Pecksniff's bridal ; and that her three dear
daughters would be happy to assist, on so interesting, and so
very unexpected — which the strong-minded woman underlined
— so very unexpected an occasion.

On the receipt of this gracious reply. Miss Pecksniff ex-
tended her forgiveness and her invitations to Mr. and Mrs.
Spottletoe ; to Mr. George Chuzzlewit the bachelor cousin ;
to the solitary female who usually had the tooth-ache ; and to
the hairy young gentleman with the outline of a face ; sur-
viving remnants of the party that had once assembled in Mr.
Pecksniff's parlor. After which Miss Pecksniff remarked,
that there was a sweetness in doing our duty, which neutral-
ized the bitter in our cups.

The wedding guests had not yet assembled, and indeed it
was so early that Miss Pecksniff herself was in the act of
dressing at her leisure, when a carriage stopped near the
Monument ; and Mark, dismounting from the rumble, assisted
Mr. Chuzzlewit to alight. The carriage remained in waiting ;
so did Mr. Tapley. Mr. Chuzzlewit betook himself to
Todgers's.

He was shown, by the degenerate successor of Mr. Bailey,
into the dining-parlor ; where — for his visit was expected — •
Mrs. Todgers immediately appeared.

" You are dressed, I see, for the wedding," he said.

Mrs. Todgers, who was greatly flurried by the preparations,
replied in the affirmative.

" It goes against my wishes to have it in progress just
now, I assure you, sir," said Mrs. Todgers; " but Miss Peck-
sniff's mind was set upon it, and it really is time that Miss
Pecksniff was married. That cannot be denied, sir."

" No," said Mr. Chuzzlewit, " assuredly not. Her sister
takes no part in the proceedmgs ? "

" Oh dear, no, sir. Poor thing ! " said J.Irs. Todgers,
shaking her head, and dropping her voice. " Since she has
known the worst, she has never left my room ; the next
room."

82 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT.

" Is she prepared to see me ? " he inquired.

"Quite prepared, sir."

" Then let us lose no time."

Mrs. Todgers conducted him into the little back chamber
commanding the prospect of the cistern ; and there, sadly
different from when it had first been her lodging, sat poor
Merry, in mourning weeds. The room looked very dark and
sorrowful ; and so did she ; but she had one friend beside her,
faithful to the last, Old Chuffey.

When Mr. Chuzzlewit sat down at her side, she took his
hand and put it to her lips. She was in great grief. He too
was agitated ; for he had not seen her since their parting in
the churchyard.

" I judged you hastily," he said, in a low voice. " I fear
I judged you cruelly. Let me know that I have your for-
giveness."

She kissed his hand again ; and retaining it in hers,
thanked him, in a broken voice, for all his kindness to her,
since.

" Tom Pinch," said Martin, "has faithfully related to me
all that you desired him to convey ; at a time when he deemed
it very improbable that he would ever have an opportunity of
delivering your message. Believe me, that if I ever deal again
with an ill-advised and unawakened nature, hiding the strength
it thinks its weakness, I will have long and merciful consider-
ation for it."

" You had for me ; even for me," she answered. " I quite
believe it. I said the words you have repeated, when my dis-
tress was very sharp and hard to bear ; I say them now for
others ; but I cannot urge them for myself. You spoke to me
after you had seen and watched me day by day. There was
great consideration in that. You might have spoken, perhaps,
more kindly ; you might have tried to invite my confidence by
greater gentleness ; but the end would have been the same."

He shook his head in doubt, and not without some inward
self-reproach.

" How can I hope," she said, " that your interposition
would have prevailed with me, when I know how obdurate I
was ! I never thought at all ; dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I never
thought at all ; I had no thought, no heart, no care to find
one ; at that time. It has grown out of my trouble. I have felt
it in my trouble. I wouldn't recall my trouble, such as it is,
and has been — and it is light in comparison with trials which

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 823

hundreds of good people suffer every day, I know — I wouldn't
recall it to-morrow, if 1 could. It has been my friend, for
without it, no one could have changed me ; nothing could
have changed me. Do not mistrust me because of these tears ;
I cannot help them. I am grateful for it, in my soul. In-
deed I am !"

" Indeed she is ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " I believe it, sir."

" And so do I ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " Now, attend to
me, my dear. Your late husband's estate, if not wasted by
the confession of a large debt to the broken office (which doc-
ument, being useless to the runaways, has been sent over to
England by them : not so much for the sake of the creditors
as for the gratification of their dislike to him, whom they sup-
pose to be still living), will be seized upon by law ; for it is
not exempt, as I learn, from the claims of those who have
suffered by the fraud in which he was engaged. Your father's
property was aH, or nearly all, embarked in the same trans-
action. If there be any left, it will be seized on, in like man-
ner. There is no home thcre.^''

" I couldn't return to him," she said, with instinctive ref-
erence to his having forced her marriage on. " I could not
return to him ! "

" I know it," Mr. Chuzzlewit resumed : " and I am here,
because I know it. Come with me ! From all who are about
me, you are certain (I have ascertained it) of a generous wel-
come. But until vour health is re-established, and vou are
sufficiently composed to bear that welcome, you shall have
your abode in any quiet retreat of your own chosing, near
London ; not so far removed but that this kind-hearted lady
may still visit you as often as she pleases. You have suffered
much ; but you are young, and ha\e a brighter and a better
future stretching out before you. Come with me. Your sister
is careless of you, I know. She hurries on and publishes her
marriage, in a spirit which (to say no more of it) is barely de-
cent, is unsisterly, and bad. Leave the house before her
guests arrive. She means to give you pain. Spare her the
offence, and come with me ! "

Mrs. Todgers, though most unwilling to part with her,
added her persuasions. Even poor old Chuffey (of course in-
cluded in the project) added his. She hurriedly attired her-
self, and was ready to depart, when Miss Pecksniff dashed
into the room.

Miss Pecksniff dashed in so suddenly, that she was placed

824 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

in an embarrassing position. For, though she had completed
her bridal toilette as to her head, on which she wore a bridal
bonnet with orange flowers, she had not completed it as to
her skirts, which displayed no choicer decoration^ than a
dimity bedgown. She had dashed in, in fact, about half way
through, to console her sister in her affliction with a sight of
the aforesaid bonnet ; and being quite unconscious of the
presence of a visitor, until she found Mr. Chuzzlewit standing
face to face with her, her surprise was an uncomfortable one.

" .So, young lady I " said the old man, eyeing her with
strong disfavor. " You are to be married to-day 1 "

" Yes, sir," returned Miss Pecksniff, modestly. "lam. I
— my dress is rather — really, Mrs. Todgers ! "

"Your delicacy," said old Martin, "is troubled, I per-
ceive. I am not surprised to find it so. You have chosen
the period of your marriage, unfortunately."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Chuzzlewit," retorted Cherry;
very red and angry in a moment : " but if you have anything
to say on that subject, I must beg to refer you to Augustus.
You will scarcely think it manly, I hope, to force an argument
on me, when Augustus is at all times ready to discuss it with
you. I have nothing to do with any deceptions that may have
been practised on my parent," said Miss Pecksniff, pointedly;
" and as I wish to be on good terms with everybody at such
a time, I should have been glad if you would have favored
us with your company at breakfast. But I will not ask you
as it is, seeing that you have been prepossessed and set
against me in another quarter. I hope I have my natural
affections for another quarter, and my natural pity for another
quarter ; but I cannot always submit to be subservient to it,
Mr. Chuzzlewit. That would be a little too much. I trust I
have more respect for myself, as well as for the man who
claims me as his Bride."

"Your sister, meeting — as I think, not as she says, for
she has said nothing about it — with little consideration from
you, is going away with me," said Mr. Chuzzlewit.

"I am very happy to find that she has some good fortune
at last," returned Miss Pecksniff, tossing her head. " I con-
gratulate her, I am sure. I am not surprised that this event
should be painful to her — painful to her — but I can't help
that, Mr. Chuzzlewit. It's not my fault."

" Come, Miss Pecksniff ! " said the old man, quietl3\ I
should like to see a better parting between you. I should

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

825

like to see a better parting on your side, in such circum-
stances. It would make me your friend. You may want a
friend one day or other."

" Every relation of life, I\Ir. Chuzzlewit, begging your
pardon, and every friend in life," returned Miss Pecksniff
with dignity, "is now bound up and cemented in Augustus.
So long as Augustus is my own, I cannot want a friend.
When you speak of friends, sir, I must beg, once for all, to
refer you to Augustus. That is my impression of the religious
ceremony in which I am so soon to take a part at that altar
to which Augustus will conduct me. I bear no malice at any
time, much less in a moment of triumph, towards any one ;
much less towards my sister. On the contrary, I congratulate
her. If you didn't hear me say so, I am not to blame. And
as I owe it to Augustus, to be punctual on an occasion when
he may naturally be supposed to be — to be impatient — really,
Mrs. Todgersl^^I must beg your leave, sir, to retire."

After these words the bridal bonnet disappeared ; with as
much state, as the dimity bedgown left in it.

Old Martin gave his arm to the younger sister without
speaking, and led her out. Mrs. Todgers, with her holiday
garments fluttering in the wind, accompanied them to the car-
riage, clung round Merry's neck at parting, and ran back to
her own dingy house, crying the whole way. She had a lean
lank body, Mrs. Todgers, but a well-conditioned soul within.
Perhaps the Good Samaritan was lean and lank, and found it
hard to live. Who knows !

Mr. Chuzzlewit followed her so closely with his eves, that,
until she had shut her own door, they did not encounter Mr.
Tapley's face.

*' Why, Mark ! " he said, as soon as he observed it, " what's
the matter ! "

" The wonderfullcst ewent, sir ! " returned Mark, pump-
ing at his voice in a most laborious manner, and hardly able
to articulate with all his efforts. " A coincidence as never
was equalled ! I'm blessed if here ain't two old neighbors of
ourn, sir ! "

" What neighbors ! " cried old Martin, looking out of win-
dow. " Where ? "

"/was a walkin' up and down not five yards from this
spot," said Mr. Tapley, breathless, " and they come upon me
like their own ghosts, as I thought they was ! It's the won-
derfullcst ewent that ever happened. Bring a feather, some-
body, and knock me down with it ! "

826 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT.

" What do you mean ! " exclaimed old Martin, quite as
much excited by the spectacle of Mark's excitement, as that
strange person was himself. " Neighbors, where ! "

" Here, sir ! " replied Mr. Tapley. " Here in the city of
London ! Here upon these very stones ! Here they are,
sir ! Don't I know 'em ? Lord love their welcome faces,
don't I know 'em !"

With which ejaculations Mr. Tapley not only pointed to a
decent-looking man and woman standing by, but commenced
embracing them alternately, over and over again, in Monu-
ment Yard.

" Neighbors, where ! " old Martin shouted, almost mad-
dened by his ineffectual efforts to get out at the coach-door.

'• Neighbors in America ! Neighbors in Eden ! " cried
Mark. " Neighbors in the swamp, neighbors in the bush,
neighbors in the fever. Didn't she nurse us ! Didn't he help
us ! Shouldn't we both have died \\dthout 'em ! Hav'n't they
come a stnigglin' back, without a single child for their conso-
lation ! And talk to me of neighbors ! "

Away he went again, in a perfectly wild state, hugging
them, and skipping round them, and cutting in between them,
as if he were performing some frantic and outlandish dance.

Mr. Chuzzlewit no sooner gathered who these people were,
than he burst open the coach-door somehow or other, and
came tumbling out among them ; and as if the lunacy of Mr.
Tapley were contagious, he immediately began to shake hands
too, and exhibit ever)'^ demonstration of the liveliest joy.

" Get up behind ! " he said. " Get up in the rumble.
Come along with me ! Go you on the box, Mark. Home !
Home ! "

" Home ! " cried Mr. Tapley, seizing the old man's hand
in a burst of enthusiasm. " Exactly my opinion, sir. Home,
for ever ! Excuse the libert\-, sir, I can't help it. Success to
the Jolly Tapley ! There's nothin' in the house they shan't
have for the askin' for, except a bill. Home to be sure !
Hurrah ! "

Home they rolled accordingly, when he had got the old
man in again, as fast as they could go ; Mark abating nothing
of his fervor by the way, but allowing it to vent itself as unre-
strainedly as if he had been on Salisbur)- Plain.

And now the wedding party began to assemble at Tod-
gers's. Mr. Jinkins, the only boarder invited, was on the
ground first. He wore a white favor in his button-hole, and

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 827

a bran new extra super doubled-milled blue saxony dress coat
(that was its description in the bill), with a variety of tortuous
embellishments about the pockets, invented by the artist to do
honor to the day. The miserable Augustus no longer felt
strongly even on the subject of Jinkins. He hadn't strength
of mind enough to do it. " Let him come ! " he had said, in
answer to Miss Pecksniff, when she urged the point. " Let
him come ! He has ever been my rock ahead through life.
'Tis meet he should be there. Ha, ha ! Oh, yes ! let Jinkins
come ! "

Jinkins had come, with all the pleasure in life ; and there
he was. For some few minutes he had no companion but the
breakfast, which was set forth in the drawing-room, with
unusual taste and ceremony. But Mrs. Todgers soon joined
him ; and the bachelor-cousin, the hairy young gentleman,
and Mr. and Mrs. Spottletoe, arrived in quick succession.

Mr. Spottletoe honored Jinkins with an encouraging bow.
" Glad to know you, sir," he said. " Give you joy ! " Under
the impression that Jinkins was the happy man.

Mr. Jinkins explained. He was merely doing the honors
for his friend Moddle, who had ceased to reside in the house,
and had not yet arrived.

" Not arrived, sir ! " exclaimed Spottletoe, in a great heat.

" Not yet," said Mr. Jinkins.

" Upon my soul ! " "cried Spottletoe, " He begins well !
Upon my life and honor this young man begins well ! But I
should very much like to know how it is that every one who
comes into contact with this family is guilty of some gross
insult to it. Death ! Not arrived yet. Not here to receive
us!"

The nephew with the outline of a countenance, suggested
that perhaps he had ordered a new pair of boots, and they
hadn't come home.

" I^on't talk to me of Boots, sir ! " retorted Spottletoe,
with immense indignation. " He is bound to come here in
his slippers then ; he is bound to come here barefoot. Don't
offer such a wretched and evasive plea to me on behalf of
your friend, as Boots, sir."

" He is not my friend," said the nephew. " I never saw
him."

" Very well, sir," returned the fiery Spottletoe. " Then
don't talk to me ! "

The door was thrown open at this juncture, and Miss

828 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.

Pecksniff entered, tottering, and supported by her three brides-
maids. The strong-minded woman brought up the rear ; hav-
ing waited outside until now for the purpose of spoihng the
effect.

" How do you do, ma'am ! " said Spottletoe to the strong-
minded woman in a tone of defiance. " I beUeve you see
Mrs. Spottletoe, ma'am 1 "

The strong-minded woman with an air of great interest in
Mrs. Spottletoe 's health, regretted that she was not more
easily seen. Nature erring, in that lady's case, upon the slim
side.

" Mrs. Spottletoe is at least more easily seen than the
bridegroom, ma'am," returned that lady's husband. " That
is, unless he has confined his attentions to any particular part
or branch of this family, which would be quite in keeping with
its usual proceedings."

" If you allude to me, sir — — " the strong-minded woman
began.

" Pray," interposed Miss Pecksniff, " do not allow Augustus,
at this awful moment of his life and mine, to be the means of
disturbing that harmony which it is ever Augustus's and my
wish to maintain. Augustus has not been introduced to any
of my relations now present. He preferred not."

" Why, then, I venture to assert," cried Mr. Spottletoe,
" that the man who aspires to join this family, and ' prefers
not ' to be introduced to its members, is an impertinent Puppy.
That's my opinion of him f'

The strong-minded woman remarked with great suavity,
that she was afraid he must be. Her three daughters observed
aloud that it was " shameful ! "

"You do not know Augustus," said Miss Pecksniff, tear-
fully, " indeed you do not know him. Augustus is all mild-
ness and humility. Wait 'till you see Augustus, and I am
sure he will conciliate your affections."

" The question arises," said Spottletoe, folding his'arms :
" How long we are to wait. I am not accustomed to wait ;
that's the fact. And I want to know how long we are ex-
pected to wait."

" Mrs. Todgers ! " said Charity, " Mr. Jinkins ! I am afraid
there must be some mistake. I think Augustus must have
gone straight to the Altar! "

As such a thing was possible, and the church was close at
hand, Mr. Jinkins ran off to see : accompanied by Mr. George

MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. 829

Chuzzlewit, the bachelor cousin, who preferred anything to
the aggravation of sitting near the breakfast, without being
able to eat it. But they came back with no other tidings than
a familiar message from the clerk, importing that if they
wanted to be married that morning they had better look sharp,
as the curate wasn't going to wait there all day.

The bride was now alarmed ; seriously alarmed. Good
Heavens, what could have happened! Augustus! Dear
Augustus !

Mr. Jinkins volunteered to take a cab, and seek him at
the newly-furnished house. The strong-minded woman ad-
ministered comfort to Miss Pecksniff. " It was a specimen
of what she had to expect. It would do her good. It would
dispel the romance of the affair." The red-nosed daughters
also administered the kindest comfort. " Perhaps he'd come,"
they said. The sketchy nephew hinted that he might have
fallen off a bridge. The wrath of Mr. Spottletoe resisted all
the entreaties of his wife. Ever)'body spoke at once, and
Miss Pecksniff, with clasped hands, sought consolation every-
where and found it nowhere, when Jinkins, having met the
postman at the door, came back with a letter : which he put
into her hand.

Miss Pecksniff opened it ; glanced at it ; uttered a pierc-
ing shriek ; threw it down upon the ground ; and fainted
away.

They picked it up ; and crowding around, and looking
over one another's shoulders, read, in the words and dashes
following, this communication :

" Off Gravesend.
" Clipper Schooner, Cupid,
" Wednesday flight.

"Ever Injured Miss Pecksniff,

" Ere this reaches you, the undersigned will be — if not a
corpse — on the way to Van Dieman's Land. Send not in
pursuit. I never will be taken alive !

" The burden — 300 tons per register — forgive, if in my dis-
traction, I allude to the ship — on my mind — has been truly
dreadful. Frequently— when you have sought to soothe my
brow with kisses — has self-destruction flashed across me.
Frequently — incredible as it may seem — have I abandoned
the idea.

8 ^ o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

" I love another. She is Another's. Everything appears
to be somebody else's. Nothing in the world is mine — not
even my Situation — which I have forfeited — by my rash con-
duct— in running away.

" If you ever loved me, hear my last appeal ! The last
appeal of a miserable and blighted exile. Forward the in-
closed— it is the key of my desk — to the office — by hand.
Please address to Bobbs and Cholberry — I mean to Chobbs
and Bolberry — but my mind is totally unhinged. I left a
penknife — with a buckhorn handle — in your work-box. It will
repay the messenger. May it make him happier than ever it
did me !

" Oh, Miss Pecksniff, why didn't you leave me alone !
Was it not cruel, cruel ! Oh, my goodness, have you not been
a witness of my feelings — have you not seen them flowing
from my eyes — did you not, yourself, reproach me with weep-
ing more than usual on that dreadful night when last we met
— in that house — where I once was peaceful — though blighted
— in the society of Mrs. Todgers !

" But it was written — in the Talmud — that you should in-
volve yourself in the inscrutable and gloomy Fate which it is
my mission to accomplish, and which wreathes itself — e'en
now — about my — temples. I will not reproach, for I have
wronged you. May the Furniture make some amends !

" Farewell ! Be the proud bride of a ducal coronet, and
forget me ! Long may it be before you know the anguish
with which I now subscribe myself — amid the tempestuous
bowlings of the — sailors,

" Unalterably, never yours,

" Augustus.'

They thought as little of Miss Pecksniff, while they
greedily perused this letter, as if she were the ver)' last person
on earth whom it concerned. But Miss Pecksniff really had
fainted away. The bitterness of her mortification ; the bitter-
ness of having summoned witnesses, and such witnesses, to
behold it ; the bitterness of knowing that the strong-minded
woman and the red-nosed daughters towered triumphant in
this hour of their anticipated overthrow ; was too much to be
borne. Miss Pecksniff had fainted away in earnest

MARTIM CHVZZLE WIT. 83 1

What sounds are these that fall so grandly on the ear !
What darkening room is this !

And that mild figure seated at an organ, who is he ? Ah,
Tom, dear Tom, old friend !

Thy head is prematurely gray, though Time has passed
between thee and our old association, Tom. But, in those
sounas with which it is thy wont to bear the twilight company,
the music of thy heart speaks out : the story of thy life relates
itself.

Thy life is tranquil, calm, and happy, Tom. In the soft
strain which ever and again comes stealing back upon the ear,
the memory of thine old love may find a voice perhaps ; but
it is a pleasant, softened, whispering memory, like that in
which we sometimes hold the dead, and does not pain or
grieve thee, God be thanked !

Touch the notes lightly, Tom, as lightly as thou wilt, but
never will thine hand fall half so lightly on that Instrument
as on the head of thine old tyrant brought down very, very
low ; and never will it make as hollow a response to any touch
of thine, as he does always.

For a drunken, squalid, begging-letter-writing man, called
Pecksniff (with a shrewish daughter), haunts thee, Tom ; and
when he makes appeals to thee for cash, reminds thee that he
built thy fortunes better than his own ; and when he spends
it, entertains the alehouse company with tales of thine ingrati-
tude and his munificence towards thee once upon a time ; and
then he shows his elbows worn in holes, and puts his soleless
shoes upon a bench, and begs his auditors look there, while
thou art comfortably housed and clothed. All known to thee,
and yet all borne with, Tom !

So, with a smile upon thy face, thou passest gently to an-
other measure — to a quicker and more joyful one — and little
feet are used to dance about thee at the sound, and bright
young eyes to glance up into thine. And there is one slight
creature, Tom — her child ; not Ruth's — whom thine eyes
follow in the romp and dance : who, wondering sometimes to
see thee look so thoughtful, runs to climb upon thy knee, and
put her cheek to thine : who loves thee, Tom, above the rest, if
that can be : and falling sick once, chose thee for her nurse,
and never knew impatience, Tom, when thou w^ert by her
side.

Thou glidest now, into a graver air ; an air devoted to old
friends and byegone times ; and in thy lingering touch upon

832 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT.

the keys, and the rich swelling of the mellow harmony, they
rise before thee. The spirit of that old man dead, who de-
lighted to anticipate thy wants, and never ceased to honor
thee, is there, among the rest : repeating, with a face composed
and calm, the words he said to thee upon his bed, and bless-
ing thee !

And coming from a garden, Tom, bestrewn with flowers
by children's hands, thy sister, little Ruth, as light of foot and
heart as in old days, sits down beside thee. From the Pres-
ent, and the Past, with which she is so tenderly entwined in
all thy thoughts, thy strain soars onward to the Future. As
it resounds within thee and without, the noble music, rolling
round ye both, shuts out the grosser prospect of an earthly
parting, and uplifts ye both to Heaven !

THE END.

POSTSCRIPT.

At a Public Dinner given to me on Saturday, the i8th of
April, i86S, in the City of New York, by two hundred repre-
sentatives of the Press of the United Slates of America, I
made the following observations among others : —

" So much of my voice has lately been heard in the land,
that I might have been contented with troubling you no fur-
ther from my present standing-point, were it not a duty with
which I henceforth charge myself, not only here, but on every
suitable occasion, whatsoever and wheresoever, to express my
high and grateful sense of my second reception in America,
and to bear my honest testimony to the national generosity
and magnanimity. Also, to declare how astounded I have
been by the amazing changes I have seeji around me on every
side, — changes moral, changes physical, changes in the
amount of land subdued and peopled, changes in the rise of
vast new cities,- changes in the growth of older cities almost
out of recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of life,
changes in the Press, without whose advancement no advance-
ment can take place anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, so
arrogant as to suppose that in five-and-twenty years there
have been no changes in me, and that I had nothing to learn
and no extreme expressions to correct when I was here first.
And this brings me to a point on which I have, ever since I
landed in the United States last November, observed a strict
silence, though sometimes tempted to break it, but in refer-
ence to which I will, with your good leave, take you into my
confidence now. Even the Press, being human, may be some-
times mistaken or misinformed, and I rather think that I have
in one or two rare instances observed its information to be
not strictly accurate with reference to myself. Indeed, I

'833

834 POSTSCRIPT.

have, now and again, been more surprised by printed news
that I have read of myself, than by any printed news that I
have ever read in my present state of existence. Thus, the
vigor and perseverance with which I have for some months past
been collecting miterials for, and hammering away at, a new
book on America has much astonished me ; seeing that all that
time my declaration has been perfectly well known to my pub-
lishers on both sides of the Atlantic, that no consideration on
earth would induce me to write one. But what 1 have in-
tended, what I have resolved upon (and this is the confidence
I seek to place in you) is, on my return to England, in my
own person, in my own Journal, to bear, for the behoof of my
countrymen, such testimony to the gigantic changes in this
country as I have hinted at to-night. Also, to record that
wherever I have been, in the smallest places equally with the
largest, I have been received with unsurpassable politeness,
delicacy, sweet temper, hospitality, consideration, and with
unsurpassable respect for the privacy daily enforced upon me
by the nature of my avocation here, and the state of my
health. This testimony, so long as I live, and so long as my
descendants have any legal right in my books, I shall cause
to be republished, as an appendix to every copy of those two
books of mine in which I have referred to America. And
this I will do and cause to be done, not in mere love and
thankfulness, but because I regard it as an act of plain justice
and honor."

I said these words with the greatest earnestness that I
could lay upon them, and I repeat them in print here with
equal earnestness. So long as this book shall last, I hope
that they will form a part of it, and will be fairly read as in-
separable from my experiences and impressions of America.

Charles Dickens.
May, 1868.

CHARLES DICKENS'

COMPLETE WORKS

The following Index contains the names of all the writings
of Mr. Charles Dickens, the numbers referring to the volume
in which they will be found, in the order mentioned, as fol-
lows : —

1. Pickwick Papers.

2. David Copperfield.

3. Martin Chuzzlewit.

4. Nicholas Nickleby.

5. Bleak House.

6. Little Dorrit.

7. Dombey & Son.

8. Our Mutual Friend.

9. Oliver Twist, Pictures from
Italy, and American Notes.

10. Old Curiosity Shop and
Hard Times.

11. Tale of Two Cities and
Sketches by Boz.

12. Barnaby Rudge and Myst-
ery OF Edwin Drood.

13. Great E.xpectations, Un
commercial Traveller, and
Miscellaneous.

14. Christmas Stories and Re-
printed Pieces.

15. Child's History OF England
AND Miscellaneous.

INDEX.

Aboard Ship 13

AUdit. Christmas Stories 14

Barlow, Mr 13

Barnaby Rudge 12

Battle of Life, The 14

Beadle, The 11

Begging-Letter Writer... 14

Bill-Sticking 14

Birth-Day Celebrations.. 13

A.

American Notes g

Anecdotes, Three Detec-
tive 14

B.

Births 14

Black Veil, The 11

P.leak House 5

Bloomsbury Christmas,

The II

Boarding House, The.. 11

Boiled lieef of N. Engl'd 13

Arcadian London 13

Astleys 11

Bound for the Great Salt

Lake 13

Boy at Mugby, The.. -. 14

Boz, Sketches by 11

Broker's Man, The 11

Brokers' & Marine-Store

Shops II

(835)

836

IN'DEX.

Calais Night Mail, The.. 13

Chambers 13

Characters 11

Chatham Dockyard 13

Child's Dream of a Star. 14
Child's History of Ene-

land 15

Child's Story, The 14

Chimes, The 14

Christmas Carol, A. ... 14
Christmas Dinner, A 11

Dancing Academy, The., n

Detective Anecdotes 14

Detective Police, The.. 14

C.

Christmas Stories 14

Christmas Tree, A 14

Christmas Stories, Addi-
tional 14

Cluizzlewit, Martin 3

City of London Chnrches 13
City of the Absent, The 13
Clock, Master Humph-
rey's 15

Contradictory Couple. ... 13
Cool Couple, The 13

D.

Doctor's Commons 11

Dombev & Son 7

Down vk'ith the Tide ... 14

Copperfield, David ^

Couple who coddle them-
selves. The ^3

Couple who dote upon
their Children, The... 13

Couples, young. Sketches

of 13

Cricket in the Hearth,

The ,4

Crimmal Courts 11

Curate, The 11

Drood,Edwin, Mystery of 12
Drunkard's Death, The. 1 1
Dullborough Town 13

Early Coaches n

Edwin Drood, Mystery of 12
Egotistical Couple, The 13

Fairy Tale, Prince Bull.. 14

First of May, The n

First Omnibus Cad ii

E.

Election for Beadle n

England, History of.
Child's 15

F.

Flight, A 14

Fly-Leaf in a Life, A.... 13
Formal Couple, The ... 13

English Watering Place,

Our 14

Expectations, Great 13

Four Sisters, The 11

French Flemish Country. 13
French Watering Place. 14

Ghost of Art, The 14

Ghost Stories, Two 14

Ghost's Bargains, The . . 14

Hackney Coach Stand.. 11
Hal f- Pay Captain, The . . 11

Hard Times 10

Haunted House, The... 15
Haunted Man, The 14

G.

Gin Shops II

Cnjing into Society 15

Great Expectations 13

H.

His General Line of Bust'
iiess 13

History of England,
Child's 15

Great Tasmania's Cargo 13
Great Winglebury Duel, 11
Greenwich Fair 11

Holiday Romance 15

Holly Tree Inn 10

Horatio Sparkins 11

Hospital Patient, The.. 11
Humphrey, Mast'r, clock 15

I.

Inspector Field, On Duty | Italian Prisoner, The.,
with 14

13 I Italy, Pictures from 9

Ladies' Societies, The..
Last Cab Driver, The..
Lirriper's, Mrs., Lodg-
ings

'4

Lirriper's, Mrs., Legacy 14
Little Dinner in an Hour,

A i3

Little Dorrit 6

London Recreations. . . .

Long Voyage, The

Loving Couple, The

Lying Awake

II

'4
13
14

Making a Night of It 11

Marigold, Dr 14

Master Humphrey's

Clock 15

Midicine Men of Civil-
ization 13

M.

Meditations in Monmouth
Street 11

Meek, Mrs., of a Son... 14

Minns, Mr., and his
cousin II

Mispl.iced Attachment of

Mr. John Dounce 11

Mistaken Milliner, The.. 11
Miss Evans and the Eagle 1 1
Monument of French

Folly. A... _ 14

M udfog Association, The 15

INDEX.

837

New Uncommercial Sam-
ples 13

New Year, Tlic 11

Newgate, A Visit to 11

Old Couple, The 13

Old Curiosity Shop 10

Old Lady, The 11

Old Stage Coaching

House 13

Oliver Twist 9

Omnibuses 11

On an Amateur Beat 13

Parish Engine, The 11

Parish, Our 11

Parliamentary Sketch, A 11

Parlor Orator, The si

Passage in the Life of Mr.

Watkins Tottle 11

Pawnbroker's Shop, The 1 1

Pieces, Reprinted 14

Perils of certain English

Refreshments for Travel-
lers 13

Samples, New Uncom-
mercial 13

Scenes 11

Schoolboy's Story, The 14

Schoolmaster, The 11

Scotland Yard 11

Sentiment 11

Seven Poor Travellers,

The 14

Tale of Two Cities 11

Tales II

Thoughts about People.. 11
Three Detective Anec-
dotes 14

Uncommercial Samj^les,
New 13

Walk in a Workhouse, A 14
Wapping Workhouse .... 13
Workhouse, A Walk in a 14

N

Nice Little Couple, The 13

Nickleby, Nicholas 4

Night Walks 13

Noble Savage, The 14

O.

On duty with Inspector
Field 14

Our Bore 14

Our English Watering
Place 14

Our French Watering
Place 14

P.

Travellers 15

Pickwick Papers i

Pictures from Italy 9

Plated Article, A 14

Plausible Couple, The.. 13
Plea for Total Abstin-
ence 13

Poor Man's Tale of a
Patent 14

R.

Reprinted Pieces 14

River, The 11

S.

Seven Dials 11

Shabby Genteel People.. 11

Shipwreck, The 13

Shops and their Tenants 1 1

Shy Neighborhoods 13

Signal Man, The 14

Silverman's, George, Ex-
planation 15

Sketches by Boz 11

T.

Titbull's ."Mms-houses . . 13
Tom Tiddler's Ground. . 15

Tramps 13

Traveller, Uncommercial 13

Travelling Abroad 13

Trial for Murder, The.. 14

U. V.

Uncommercial Traveller 13
Visit to Newgate ii

Nobody's Story 14

No Thoroughfare 15

Notes, American g

Nurse's Stories 13

Our Honorable Friend.. 14

Our Mutual Friend 8

Our Next Door Neighbor n

Our Parish 11

Our School 14

Our Vestry 14

Out of the Season 14

Out of Town 14

Poor Mercantile Jack... 13
Poor Relation's Story,

The 14

Porter, Mrs, Joseph 11

Prince Bull, a Fairy

Tale 14

Private Theatres 11

Prisoners' Van, The.... 11

Public Dinners 11

I Romance, Holiday 15

I Rudge, Barnaby 12

Sketch esof Young

Couples .... 13

Small Star in the East, A 13

Somebody's Luggage.. .. 14
Some Recollections of

Mortality 13

Steam Excursion, The. . 11

Streets — Morning ir

Streets — Evening 11

Twist, Oliver q

Two Ghost Stories 14

Two Views of a Cheap

Theatre 13

Tugg's at Ramsgate, The 1 1

Wreck of
Mary . . .

W. Y.

the Golden

Vaiixliall Gardens by
Day '. II

Young Couple, The 13

15 I Young Couples, Sketches
I of ij

University of California

SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY

405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388

Return this material to the library

from which it was borrowed.

.•'.-y

\>^

3 1158 00024 0753

~^^H|: '

V

UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY

AA 000 366 402

K