Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/365

295 THE PICKWICK CLUB. 295

o* personal inconwenience as was inflicted on the old gen'l'm'u as wore the pig^-tail."

"What did they do to him?" inquired the fat boy, in a faltering- voice.

" I'm a g^oin' to tell you," replied Mr. Weller ; " he was one o' the ]arg"est patterns as was ever turned out — reg'lar fat man, as hadn't caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty years."

" Lor!" exclaimed Emma.

put an exact model of his own legs on the dinin* table afore him, he wouldn't ha* known 'em. Well, he always walks to his office with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging out, about a foot and a half, and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was worth — I'm afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can be — a large, heavy, round manafacter, as stout for a watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face in proportion. ' You'd better not carry that 'ere watch/ says the old gen'l'ra'n's friends, ' you'll be robbed on it/ says they. * Shall I?' says he. * Yes, will you,' says they. * Veil,' says he, * I should like to see the thief as could get this here watch out, for I'm blessed if / ever can ; it's such a tight fit/ says he, ' and venever I vants to know what's o'clock, I'm obliged to stare into the bakers* shops/ he says. Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a goin* to pieces, and out he walks agin' with his powdered head and pig-tail, and rolls down the Strand vith the chain hangin' out furder than ever, and the great round watch almost bustin' through his grey kersey smalls. There Warn't a pickpocket in all London as didn't take a pull at that chain, but the chain 'ud never break, and the watch 'ud never come out, so they soon got tired o' drag- ging such a heavy old gen'l'm'n along the pavement, and he'd go home and laugh till the pig-tail wibrated like the penderlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old gen'l m'n was a rollin' along, and he sees a pickpocket as he know'd by sight, a-comin' up, arm in arm vith a little boy vith a wery large head. ' Hej-e's a game,' says the old gen'l'm'n to himself, ' they're a-goin' to have another try, but it won't do.* So he begins a chucklin' wery hearty, ven, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves hold of the pickpocket's arm, and rushes headforemost straight into the old gen'l* m'n's stomach, and for a moment doubled him right up vith the pain. 'Murder!' says the old gen'l'm'n. * All right. Sir/ says the pickpocket, a whisperin' in his ear. And ven he come straight agin', the watch and chain was gone, and what's worse than that, the old gen'l'm'n 's digestion was all wrong ever artervards, to the wery last day of his life; so just you look about you, young feller, and take care you don't get too fat."
 * ' No, that he hadn't, my dear," said Mr. Weller, " and if you'd

As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with whi(5h the fat boy appeared much affected, they all three wended their way to the large kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to annual custom on Christmas eve, observed by old Wardle's forefathers from time immemorial.

From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just suspended with his own hands a huge branch of misletoe, and this same