Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/180

128 128 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

" Strange practices, these," said Mr. Pickwick ; half speaking to him- self, and half addressing Sam.

" Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an electioti-tirae, in this wery place, Sir," replied Sam.

" What was that ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick.

" Why he drove a coach down here once," said Sam ; " 'Lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London. Night afore he was a going to drive up, committee on t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in ; — large room — lots of gen'l'm'n — heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. ' Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, 'glad to see you, Sir; how are you? ' — * Werry well, thank'ee, Sir,' says my father ; * I hope you re pretty middlin,' says he — ' Pretty well, thank'ee, Sir,' says the gen'l'm'n ; ' sit down, Mr. Weller — pray sit down, sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks wery hard at each other. * You don't remember me ? * says the gen'l'm'n ? — * Can't say I do,' says my father — ' Oh, I know you,' says the gen'l'm'n ; ' know'd you ven you was a boy,' says he. —

the gen'l'm'n — ^ Wery,' says my father — ' You must have a bad mem'ry Mr. Weller/ says the gen'l'm'n — * Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my father — ' I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him out a glass o' wine, and gammons him about his driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humour, and at last shoves a twenty pound note in his hand. ' It's a wery bad road between this and London,' says the gen'l'm'n — * Here and there it u a wery heavy road,' says my father — * 'Specially near the canal, I think,' says the gen'l'm'n — < Nasty bit, that 'ere,' says my father — ' Well, Mr. Weller/ says the gen'l'm'n,
 * Well, I don't remember you,' says my father — * That's wery odd,' says

we know. We're all wery fond o' you, Mr. Weller, so in case you should have an accident when you're a bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em over into the canal vithout hurtin' 'em, this is for yourself,' says he — * Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,* says my father,
 * you're a wery good whip, and can do what you like with your horses,

did, and then buttons up the money, and bows himself out. You vouldn't believe. Sir/' continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence at his master, " that on the wery day as he came down with them woters, his coach was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the canal."
 * and I'll drink your health in another glass of wine,' says he ; vich he

" And got out again ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily.

" Why," replied Sam, very slowly, " I rather think one old gentle- •] man was missin' ; I know his hat was found, but I a'n't quite certain whether his head was in it or not. But what I look at, is the hex-tra- ordinary, and wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n said my father's coach should be upset in that wery place, and on that wery^ day!"

'* It is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed/' said Mr. Pickwick. " But brush my hat, Sam, for I hear Mr. Winkle ■ calling me to breakfast."