The Pickwick Papers

  CHAPTER XXX. HOW THE PICKWICKIANS MADE AND CULTIVATED THE ACQUAINTANCEOF A COUPLE OF NICE YOUNG MEN BELONGING TO ONE OF THE LIBERALPROFESSIONS; HOW THEY DISPORTED THEMSELVES ON THE ICE; AND HOW THEIRVISIT CAME TO A CONCLUSION

  Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as that favoured servitor entered hisbed-chamber, with his warm water, on the morning of Christmas Day,'still frosty?'

  'Water in the wash-hand basin's a mask o' ice, Sir,' responded Sam.

  'Severe weather, Sam,' observed Mr. Pickwick.

  'Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as the Polar bear said tohimself, ven he was practising his skating,' replied Mr. Weller.

  'I shall be down in a quarter of an hour, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick,untying his nightcap.

  'Wery good, sir,' replied Sam. 'There's a couple o' sawbonesdownstairs.'

  'A couple of what!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sitting up in bed.

  'A couple o' sawbones,' said Sam.

  'What's a sawbones?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, not quite certain whether itwas a live animal, or something to eat.

  'What! Don't you know what a sawbones is, sir?' inquired Mr. Weller. 'Ithought everybody know'd as a sawbones was a surgeon.'

  'Oh, a surgeon, eh?' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile.

  'Just that, sir,' replied Sam. 'These here ones as is below, though,ain't reg'lar thoroughbred sawbones; they're only in trainin'.'

  In other words they're medical students, I suppose?' said Mr. Pickwick.

  Sam Weller nodded assent.

  'I am glad of it,' said Mr. Pickwick, casting his nightcap energeticallyon the counterpane. 'They are fine fellows--very fine fellows; withjudgments matured by observation and reflection; and tastes refined byreading and study. I am very glad of it.'

  'They're a-smokin' cigars by the kitchen fire,' said Sam.

  'Ah!' observed Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands, 'overflowing with kindlyfeelings and animal spirits. Just what I like to see.'

  And one on 'em,' said Sam, not noticing his master's interruption, 'oneon 'em's got his legs on the table, and is a-drinking brandy neat, vilethe t'other one--him in the barnacles--has got a barrel o' oystersatween his knees, which he's a-openin' like steam, and as fast as heeats 'em, he takes a aim vith the shells at young dropsy, who's asittin' down fast asleep, in the chimbley corner.'

  'Eccentricities of genius, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'You may retire.'

  Sam did retire accordingly. Mr. Pickwick at the expiration of thequarter of an hour, went down to breakfast.

  'Here he is at last!' said old Mr. Wardle. 'Pickwick, this is MissAllen's brother, Mr. Benjamin Allen. Ben we call him, and so may you, ifyou like. This gentleman is his very particular friend, Mr.--'

  'Mr. Bob Sawyer,' interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen; whereupon Mr. BobSawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen laughed in concert.

  Mr. Pickwick bowed to Bob Sawyer, and Bob Sawyer bowed to Mr. Pickwick.Bob and his very particular friend then applied themselves mostassiduously to the eatables before them; and Mr. Pickwick had anopportunity of glancing at them both.

  Mr. Benjamin Allen was a coarse, stout, thick-set young man, with blackhair cut rather short, and a white face cut rather long. He wasembellished with spectacles, and wore a white neckerchief. Below hissingle-breasted black surtout, which was buttoned up to his chin,appeared the usual number of pepper-and-salt coloured legs, terminatingin a pair of imperfectly polished boots. Although his coat was short inthe sleeves, it disclosed no vestige of a linen wristband; and althoughthere was quite enough of his face to admit of the encroachment of ashirt collar, it was not graced by the smallest approach to thatappendage. He presented, altogether, rather a mildewy appearance, andemitted a fragrant odour of full-flavoured Cubas.

  Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was habited in a coarse, blue coat, which, withoutbeing either a greatcoat or a surtout, partook of the nature andqualities of both, had about him that sort of slovenly smartness, andswaggering gait, which is peculiar to young gentlemen who smoke in thestreets by day, shout and scream in the same by night, call waiters bytheir Christian names, and do various other acts and deeds of an equallyfacetious description. He wore a pair of plaid trousers, and a large,rough, double-breasted waistcoat; out of doors, he carried a thick stickwith a big top. He eschewed gloves, and looked, upon the whole,something like a dissipated Robinson Crusoe.

  Such were the two worthies to whom Mr. Pickwick was introduced, as hetook his seat at the breakfast-table on Christmas morning.

  'Splendid morning, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  Mr. Bob Sawyer slightly nodded his assent to the proposition, and askedMr. Benjamin Allen for the mustard.

  'Have you come far this morning, gentlemen?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

  'Blue Lion at Muggleton,' briefly responded Mr. Allen.

  'You should have joined us last night,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  'So we should,' replied Bob Sawyer, 'but the brandy was too good toleave in a hurry; wasn't it, Ben?'

  'Certainly,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen; 'and the cigars were not bad, orthe pork-chops either; were they, Bob?'

  'Decidedly not,' said Bob. The particular friends resumed their attackupon the breakfast, more freely than before, as if the recollection oflast night's supper had imparted a new relish to the meal.

  'Peg away, Bob,' said Mr. Allen, to his companion, encouragingly.

  'So I do,' replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do him justice, he did.

  'Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appetite,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer,looking round the table.

  Mr. Pickwick slightly shuddered.

  'By the bye, Bob,' said Mr. Allen, 'have you finished that leg yet?'

  'Nearly,' replied Sawyer, helping himself to half a fowl as he spoke.'It's a very muscular one for a child's.'

  Is it?' inquired Mr. Allen carelessly.

  'Very,' said Bob Sawyer, with his mouth full.

  'I've put my name down for an arm at our place,' said Mr. Allen. 'We'reclubbing for a subject, and the list is nearly full, only we can't gethold of any fellow that wants a head. I wish you'd take it.'

  'No,' replied 'Bob Sawyer; 'can't afford expensive luxuries.'

  'Nonsense!' said Allen.

  'Can't, indeed,' rejoined Bob Sawyer, 'I wouldn't mind a brain, but Icouldn't stand a whole head.'

  Hush, hush, gentlemen, pray,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'I hear the ladies.'

  As Mr. Pickwick spoke, the ladies, gallantly escorted by Messrs.Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, returned from an early walk.

  'Why, Ben!' said Arabella, in a tone which expressed more surprise thanpleasure at the sight of her brother.

  'Come to take you home to-morrow,' replied Benjamin.

  Mr. Winkle turned pale.

  'Don't you see Bob Sawyer, Arabella?' inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen,somewhat reproachfully. Arabella gracefully held out her hand, inacknowledgment of Bob Sawyer's presence. A thrill of hatred struck toMr. Winkle's heart, as Bob Sawyer inflicted on the proffered hand aperceptible squeeze.

  'Ben, dear!' said Arabella, blushing; 'have--have--you been introducedto Mr. Winkle?'

  'I have not been, but I shall be very happy to be, Arabella,' repliedher brother gravely. Here Mr. Allen bowed grimly to Mr. Winkle, whileMr. Winkle and Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced mutual distrust out of the cornersof their eyes.

  The arrival of the two new visitors, and the consequent check upon Mr.Winkle and the young lady with the fur round her boots, would in allprobability have proved a very unpleasant interruption to the hilarityof the party, had not the cheerfulness of Mr. Pickwick, and the goodhumour of the host, been exerted to the very utmost for the common weal.Mr. Winkle gradually insinuated himself into the good graces of Mr.Benjamin Allen, and even joined in a friendly conversation with Mr. BobSawyer; who, enlivened with the brandy, and the breakfast, and thetalking, gradually ripened into a state of extreme facetiousness, andrelated with much glee an agreeable anecdote, about the removal of atumour on some gentleman's head, which he illustrated by means of anoyster-knife and a half-quartern loaf, to the gre
at edification of theassembled company. Then the whole train went to church, where Mr.Benjamin Allen fell fast asleep; while Mr. Bob Sawyer abstracted histhoughts from worldly matters, by the ingenious process of carving hisname on the seat of the pew, in corpulent letters of four inches long.

  'Now,' said Wardle, after a substantial lunch, with the agreeable itemsof strong beer and cherry-brandy, had been done ample justice to, 'whatsay you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time.'

  'Capital!' said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

  'Prime!' ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.

  'You skate, of course, Winkle?' said Wardle.

  'Ye-yes; oh, yes,' replied Mr. Winkle. 'I--I--am _rather _out ofpractice.'

  'Oh, _do_ skate, Mr. Winkle,' said Arabella. 'I like to see it so much.'

  'Oh, it is _so_ graceful,' said another young lady.

  A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed heropinion that it was 'swan-like.'

  'I should be very happy, I'm sure,' said Mr. Winkle, reddening; 'but Ihave no skates.'

  This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of pair, andthe fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs;whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitelyuncomfortable.

  Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boyand Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which hadfallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with adexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and describedcircles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed uponthe ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasantand astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positiveenthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by theaforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which theycalled a reel.

  All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,had been forcing a gimlet into the sole of his feet, and putting hisskates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a verycomplicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmlyscrewed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

  'Now, then, Sir,' said Sam, in an encouraging tone; 'off vith you, andshow 'em how to do it.'

  'Stop, Sam, stop!' said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutchinghold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. 'How slippery itis, Sam!'

  'Not an uncommon thing upon ice, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Hold up,Sir!'

  This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstrationMr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet inthe air, and dash the back of his head on the ice.

  'These--these--are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?' inquired Mr.Winkle, staggering.

  'I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, Sir,' replied Sam.

  'Now, Winkle,' cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there wasanything the matter. 'Come; the ladies are all anxiety.'

  'Yes, yes,' replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. 'I'm coming.'

  'Just a-goin' to begin,' said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.'Now, Sir, start off!'

  'Stop an instant, Sam,' gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionatelyto Mr. Weller. 'I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don'twant, Sam. You may have them, Sam.'

  'Thank'ee, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

  'Never mind touching your hat, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle hastily. 'Youneedn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you fiveshillings this morning for a Christmas box, Sam. I'll give it you thisafternoon, Sam.'

  'You're wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

  'Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?' said Mr. Winkle. 'There--that'sright. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; nottoo fast.'

  Mr. Winkle, stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was beingassisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-likemanner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the oppositebank--

  'Sam!'

  'Sir?'

  'Here. I want you.'

  'Let go, Sir,' said Sam. 'Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go,sir.'

  With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp ofthe agonised Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerableimpetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree ofdexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentlemanbore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment whenMr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fellheavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to hisfeet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, inskates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile; butanguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.

  'Are you hurt?' inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.

  'Not much,' said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.

  'I wish you'd let me bleed you,' said Mr. Benjamin, with greateagerness.

  'No, thank you,' replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.

  'I really think you had better,' said Allen.

  'Thank you,' replied Mr. Winkle; 'I'd rather not.'

  'What do _you _think, Mr. Pickwick?' inquired Bob Sawyer.

  Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, andsaid in a stern voice, 'Take his skates off.'

  'No; but really I had scarcely begun,' remonstrated Mr. Winkle.

  'Take his skates off,' repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.

  The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it,in silence.

  'Lift him up,' said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.

  Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and,beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, anduttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkablewords--

  'You're a humbug, sir.'

  A what?' said Mr. Winkle, starting.

  'A humbug, Sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir.'

  With those words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoinedhis friends.

  While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment justrecorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by their joint endeavourscut out a slide, were exercising themselves thereupon, in a verymasterly and brilliant manner. Sam Weller, in particular, was displayingthat beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently denominated'knocking at the cobbler's door,' and which is achieved by skimming overthe ice on one foot, and occasionally giving a postman's knock upon itwith the other. It was a good long slide, and there was something in themotion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still, couldnot help envying.

  'It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it?' he inquired of Wardle,when that gentleman was thoroughly out of breath, by reason of theindefatigable manner in which he had converted his legs into a pair ofcompasses, and drawn complicated problems on the ice.

  'Ah, it does, indeed,' replied Wardle. 'Do you slide?'

  'I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy,' replied Mr.Pickwick.

  'Try it now,' said Wardle.

  'Oh, do, please, Mr. Pickwick!' cried all the ladies.

  'I should be very happy to afford you any amusement,' replied Mr.Pickwick, 'but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years.'

  'Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!' said Wardle, dragging off his skates with theimpetuosity which characterised all his proceedings. 'Here; I'll keepyou company; come along!' And away went the good-tempered old fellowdown the slide, with a rapidity which came very close upon Mr. Weller,and beat the fat boy all to nothing.

  Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves and put them inhis hat; took
two or three short runs, baulked himself as often, and atlast took another run, and went slowly and gravely down the slide, withhis feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shoutsof all the spectators.

  'Keep the pot a-bilin', Sir!' said Sam; and down went Wardle again, andthen Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. BobSawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closelyupon each other's heels, and running after each other with as mucheagerness as if their future prospects in life depended on theirexpedition.

  It was the most intensely interesting thing, to observe the manner inwhich Mr. Pickwick performed his share in the ceremony; to watch thetorture of anxiety with which he viewed the person behind, gaining uponhim at the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him graduallyexpend the painful force he had put on at first, and turn slowly roundon the slide, with his face towards the point from which he had started;to contemplate the playful smile which mantled on his face when he hadaccomplished the distance, and the eagerness with which he turned roundwhen he had done so, and ran after his predecessor, his black gaiterstripping pleasantly through the snow, and his eyes beaming cheerfulnessand gladness through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down (whichhappened upon the average every third round), it was the mostinvigorating sight that can possibly be imagined, to behold him gatherup his hat, gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing countenance, andresume his station in the rank, with an ardour and enthusiasm thatnothing Could abate.

  The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest, thelaughter was at the loudest, when a sharp smart crack was heard. Therewas a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and ashout from Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disappeared; the waterbubbled up over it; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief werefloating on the surface; and this was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybodycould see.

  Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance; the males turnedpale, and the females fainted; Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped eachother by the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had gonedown, with frenzied eagerness; while Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering thepromptest assistance, and at the same time conveying to any persons whomight be within hearing, the clearest possible notion of thecatastrophe, ran off across the country at his utmost speed, screaming'Fire!' with all his might.

  It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam Weller were approachingthe hole with cautious steps, and Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding ahurried consultation with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleedingthe company generally, as an improving little bit of professionalpractice--it was at this very moment, that a face, head, and shoulders,emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed the features andspectacles of Mr. Pickwick.

  'Keep yourself up for an instant--for only one instant!' bawled Mr.Snodgrass.

  'Yes, do; let me implore you--for my sake!' roared Mr. Winkle, deeplyaffected. The adjuration was rather unnecessary; the probability being,that if Mr. Pickwick had declined to keep himself up for anybody else'ssake, it would have occurred to him that he might as well do so, for hisown.

  'Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?' said Wardle.

  'Yes, certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the water from his headand face, and gasping for breath. 'I fell upon my back. I couldn't geton my feet at first.'

  The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet visible, boretestimony to the accuracy of this statement; and as the fears of thespectators were still further relieved by the fat boy's suddenlyrecollecting that the water was nowhere more than five feet deep,prodigies of valour were performed to get him out. After a vast quantityof splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at lengthfairly extricated from his unpleasant position, and once more stood ondry land.

  'Oh, he'll catch his death of cold,' said Emily.

  'Dear old thing!' said Arabella. 'Let me wrap this shawl round you, Mr.Pickwick.'

  'Ah, that's the best thing you can do,' said Wardle; 'and when you'vegot it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump intobed directly.'

  A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of thethickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and startedoff, under the guidance of Mr. Weller; presenting the singularphenomenon of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and without a hat,with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming over the ground, withoutany clearly-defined purpose, at the rate of six good English miles anhour.

  But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such an extreme case, andurged on by Sam Weller, he kept at the very top of his speed until hereached the door of Manor Farm, where Mr. Tupman had arrived some fiveminutes before, and had frightened the old lady into palpitations of theheart by impressing her with the unalterable conviction that the kitchenchimney was on fire--a calamity which always presented itself in glowingcolours to the old lady's mind, when anybody about her evinced thesmallest agitation.

  Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug in bed. Sam Wellerlighted a blazing fire in the room, and took up his dinner; a bowl ofpunch was carried up afterwards, and a grand carouse held in honour ofhis safety. Old Wardle would not hear of his rising, so they made thebed the chair, and Mr. Pickwick presided. A second and a third bowl wereordered in; and when Mr. Pickwick awoke next morning, there was not asymptom of rheumatism about him; which proves, as Mr. Bob Sawyer veryjustly observed, that there is nothing like hot punch in such cases; andthat if ever hot punch did fail to act as a preventive, it was merelybecause the patient fell into the vulgar error of not taking enough ofit.

  The jovial party broke up next morning. Breakings-up are capital thingsin our school-days, but in after life they are painful enough. Death,self-interest, and fortune's changes, are every day breaking up many ahappy group, and scattering them far and wide; and the boys and girlsnever come back again. We do not mean to say that it was exactly thecase in this particular instance; all we wish to inform the reader is,that the different members of the party dispersed to their severalhomes; that Mr. Pickwick and his friends once more took their seats onthe top of the Muggleton coach; and that Arabella Allen repaired to herplace of destination, wherever it might have been--we dare say Mr.Winkle knew, but we confess we don't--under the care and guardianship ofher brother Benjamin, and his most intimate and particular friend, Mr.Bob Sawyer.

  Before they separated, however, that gentleman and Mr. Benjamin Allendrew Mr. Pickwick aside with an air of some mystery; and Mr. Bob Sawyer,thrusting his forefinger between two of Mr. Pickwick's ribs, and therebydisplaying his native drollery, and his knowledge of the anatomy of thehuman frame, at one and the same time, inquired--

  'I say, old boy, where do you hang out?' Mr. Pickwick replied that hewas at present suspended at the George and Vulture.

  'I wish you'd come and see me,' said Bob Sawyer.

  'Nothing would give me greater pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

  'There's my lodgings,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, producing a card. 'LantStreet, Borough; it's near Guy's, and handy for me, you know. Littledistance after you've passed St. George's Church--turns out of the HighStreet on the right hand side the way.'

  'I shall find it,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  'Come on Thursday fortnight, and bring the other chaps with you,' saidMr. Bob Sawyer; 'I'm going to have a few medical fellows that night.'

  Mr. Pickwick expressed the pleasure it would afford him to meet themedical fellows; and after Mr. Bob Sawyer had informed him that he meantto be very cosy, and that his friend Ben was to be one of the party,they shook hands and separated.

  We feel that in this place we lay ourself open to the inquiry whetherMr. Winkle was whispering, during this brief conversation, to ArabellaAllen; and if so, what he said; and furthermore, whether Mr. Snodgrasswas conversing apart with Emily Wardle; and if so, what _he_ said. Tothis, we reply, that whatever they might have said to the ladies, theysaid nothing at all to Mr. Pickwick or Mr. Tupman for eight-and-twentymiles, and that they sighed
very often, refused ale and brandy, andlooked gloomy. If our observant lady readers can deduce any satisfactoryinferences from these facts, we beg them by all means to do so.