Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/562

468 468 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

dually breaking into a smile, in spite of the uneasiness which Sam's obstinacy had given him. " The fame of the gentleman in question never reached my ears."

"No, Sir!" exclaimed Mr. Weller. ''You astonish me. Sir; he wos a clerk in a gov'ment office, Sir."

" Was he?" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Yes, he wos. Sir," rejoined Mr. Weller; ''and a wery pleasant gen'lm'n too — one o' the percise and tidy sort, as puts their feet in little India-rubber fire-buckets ven its vet veather, and never has no other bosom friends but hare-skins ; he saved up his money on princi- ple, vore a clean shirt ev'ry day on principle, never spoke to none of his relations on principle, 'fear they shou'd want to borrow money of him ; and wos altogether, in fact, an uncommon agreeable cha- racter. He had his hair cut on principle vunce a fortnight, and con- tracted for his clothes on the economic principle — three suits a year, and send back the old vuns. Being a wery reg'lar gen'lm'n he din'd ev'ry day at the same place, vere it wos one and ninepence to cut oflf the joint; and a wery good one and ninepence worth he used to cut, as the landlord often said, vith the tears a tricklin* down his face, let alone the vay he used to poke the fire in the vinter time, vich wos a dead loss o' four-pence ha'penny a day, to say nothin' at all o' the aggrawation o' seein' him do it. So uncommon grand vith it too! 'Post arter the next gen'lm'n/ he sings out ev'ry day ven he comes in. ' See arter the Times, Thomas ; let me look at the Mornin' Herald, ven it's out o* hand ; don't forgot to bespeak the Chronicle; and just bring the 'Tizer vill you :' and then he'd set vith his eyes fixed on the clock, and rush out just a quarter of a minit afore the time to vaylay the boy as wos a comin' in vith the evenin' paper, vich he'd read vith sich intense inte- rest and persewerance, as vorked the other customers up to the wery confines o' desperation and insanity, 'specially one i-rascible old gen'l- m'n as the vaiter wos alvays obliged to keep a sharp eye on at sich times, 'fear he should be tempted to commit some rash act vith the carving knife. Veil, Sir, here he'd stop, occupyin' the best place for three hours, and never takin' nothin' arter his dinner but sleep, and then he'd go avay to a coffeehouse a few streets off, and have a small pot o' coffee and four crumpets, arter vich he'd valk home to Kensington and go to bed. One night he wos took very ill; sends for the doctor; doctor comes in a green fly, vith a kind o' Robinson Crusoe set o' steps as he could let down ven he got out, and pull up arter him ven he got in, to perwent the necessity o' the coachman's gettin' down, and thereby undeceivin' the public by lettin' 'em see that it wos only a livery coat he'd got on, and not the trousers to match. ' Wot's the matter.?' says the doctor. ' Wery ill,' says the patient. ' Wot have you been a eatin' of?' says the doctor. 'Roast weal,' says the patient. ' Wot's the last thing you dewoured ? ' says the doctor. ' Crumpets,' says the patient. ' That's it,' says the doctor. ' I '11 send you a box of pills directly, and don't you never take no more o' them,' he says. ' No more o' wot ? ' says the patient — ' Pills ! ' * No ; crumpets,' says the doctor. « Wy ? ' says the patient, starting up in bed ; ' I've eat four crumpets ev'ry night for fifteen year on principle.' ' Veil, then, you'd