Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/454

372 372 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

There were just two places to be had inside, and just three to he had out ; so Sam Weller booked for them all, and having- exchanged a few compliments with the booking--office clerk on the subject of a pewter half-crown which was tendered him as a portion of his " chang-e," walked back to the George and Vulture, where he was pretty busily employed till bed-time in reducing- clothes and linen into the smallest possible compass, and exerting his mechanical genius in constructing a variety of ingenious devices for keeping the lids on boxes which had neither locks nor hinges.

The next was a very unpropitious morning for a journey — muggy, damp, and drizzly. The horses in the stages that were going out, and had come through the city, were smoking so, that the outside passen- gers were invisible. The newspaper-sellers looked moist and smelt mouldy ; the wet ran off the hats of the orange- venders as they thrust their heads into the coach windows, and diluted the insides in a refresh- ing manner. The Jews with the fifty-bladed penknifes shut them up in despair ; and the men with the pocket-books made pocket-books of them. Watch-guards and toasting-forks were alike at a discount, and pencil-cases and sponge were a drug in the market.

Leaving Sam Weller to rescue the luggage from the seven or eight porters who flung themselves savagely upon it, the moment the coach stopped, and finding that they were about twenty minutes too early, Mr. Pickwick and his friends went for shelter into the travellers* room — the last resource of human dejection.

The travellers' room at the White Eiorse Cellar is of course uncom-? fortable ; it would be no traveller's room if it were not. It is the right- hand parlour, into which an aspiring kitchen fire-place appears to have walked, accompanied by a rebellious poker, tongs, and shovel. It is divided into boxes for the solitary confinement of travellers, and is fur-^ nished with a clock, a looking-glass, and a live waiter, which latter article is kept in a small kennel for washing glasses, in a corner of the apart- ment.

One of these boxes was occupied on this particular occasion by a stern-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had a bald and glossy forehead, with a good deal of black hair at the sides and back of his head, and large black whiskers. He was buttoned up to the chin, in a brown coat ; and had a large seal-skin travelling cap, and a great- coat and cloak lying on the seat beside him. He looked up from his breakfast as Mr. Pickwick entered, with a fierce and peremptory air, which was very dignified; and having scrutinized that gentleman au4 his companions to his entire satisfaction, hummed a tune, in a manr ner which seemed to say that he rather suspected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, but it wouldn't do.

" Waiter," said the gentleman with the whiskers.

" Sir ?" replied a man with a dirty complexion, and a towel of th$ same, emerging from the kennel before mentioned.

'' Some more toast."

« Yes, Sir."

«« Buttered toast, mind/' said the gentleman, fiercely.