The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 2 (of 2) Page 13

  CHAPTER XI

  _Mr. Samuel Weller, being entrusted with a Mission of Love, proceeds to execute it; with what Success will hereinafter appear_

  During the whole of the next day, Sam kept Mr. Winkle steadily insight, fully determined not to take his eyes off him for one instant,until he should receive express instructions from the fountain-head.However disagreeable Sam's very close watch and great vigilance were toMr. Winkle, he thought it better to bear with them, than, by any act ofviolent opposition, to hazard being carried away by force, which Mr.Weller more than once strongly hinted was the line of conduct that astrict sense of duty prompted him to pursue. There is little reason todoubt that Sam would very speedily have quieted his scruples by bearingMr. Winkle back to Bath, bound hand and foot, had not Mr. Pickwick'sprompt attention to the note, which Dowler had undertaken to deliver,forestalled any such proceeding. In short, at eight o'clock in theevening, Mr. Pickwick himself walked into the coffee-room of the Bushtavern, and told Sam with a smile, to his very great relief, that hehad done quite right, and it was unnecessary for him to mount guard anylonger.

  "I thought it better to come myself," said Mr. Pickwick, addressingMr. Winkle, as Sam disencumbered him of his great-coat and travellingshawl, "to ascertain, before I gave my consent to Sam's employment inthis matter, that you are quite in earnest and serious, with respect tothis young lady."

  "Serious from my heart--from my soul!" returned Mr. Winkle, with greatenergy.

  "Remember," said Mr. Pickwick, with beaming eyes, "we met her at ourexcellent and hospitable friend's, Winkle. It would be an ill return totamper lightly, and without due consideration, with this young lady'saffections. I'll not allow this, sir. I'll not allow it."

  "I have no such intention, indeed," exclaimed Mr. Winkle, warmly. "Ihave considered the matter well, for a long time, and I feel that myhappiness is bound up in her."

  "That's wot we call tying it up in a small parcel, sir," interposed Mr.Weller, with an agreeable smile.

  Mr. Winkle looked somewhat stern at this interruption, and Mr. Pickwickangrily requested his attendant not to jest with one of the bestfeelings of our nature; to which Sam replied, "That he wouldn't, if hewas aware on it; but there were so many on 'em, that he hardly know'dwhich was the best ones ven he heer'd 'em mentioned."

  Mr. Winkle then recounted what had passed between himself and Mr. BenAllen, relative to Arabella; stated that his object was to gain aninterview with the young lady, and make a formal disclosure of hispassion; and declared his conviction, founded on certain dark hintsand mutterings of the aforesaid Ben, that, wherever she was at presentimmured, it was somewhere near the Downs. And this was his whole stockof knowledge or suspicion on the subject.

  With this very slight clue to guide him, it was determined that Mr.Weller should start next morning on an expedition of discovery; it wasalso arranged that Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle, who were less confidentof their powers, should parade the town meanwhile, and accidentallydrop in upon Mr. Bob Sawyer in the course of the day, in the hope ofseeing or hearing something of the young lady's whereabout.

  Accordingly, next morning, Sam Weller issued forth upon his quest, inno way daunted by the very discouraging prospect before him; and awayhe walked, up one street and down another--we were going to say, upone hill and down another, only it's all uphill at Clifton--withoutmeeting with anything or anybody that tended to throw the faintestlight on the matter in hand. Many were the colloquies into which Samentered with grooms who were airing horses on roads, and nursemaids whowere airing children in lanes; but nothing could Sam elicit from eitherthe first-mentioned or the last, which bore the slightest reference tothe object of his artfully-prosecuted inquiries. There were a greatmany young ladies in a great many houses, the greater part whereof wereere shrewdly suspected by the male and female domestics to be deeplyattached to somebody, or perfectly ready to become so, if opportunityoffered. But as none among these young ladies was Miss Arabella Allen,the information left Sam at exactly the old point of wisdom at which hehad stood before.

  Sam struggled across the Downs against a good high wind, wonderingwhether it was always necessary to hold your hat on with both handsin that part of the country, and came to a shady by-place aboutwhich were sprinkled several little villas of quiet and secludedappearance. Outside a stable-door at the bottom of a long back lanewithout a thoroughfare, a groom in undress was idling about, apparentlypersuading himself that he was doing something with a spade and awheelbarrow. We may remark, in this place, that we have scarcely everseen a groom near a stable, in his lazy moments, who has not been, to agreater or less extent, the victim of this singular delusion.

  Sam thought he might as well talk to this groom as to any one else,especially as he was very tired with walking, and there was a goodlarge stone just opposite the wheelbarrow; so he strolled down thelane, and, seating himself on the stone, opened a conversation with theease and freedom for which he was remarkable.

  "Mornin', old friend," said Sam.

  "Arternoon, you mean," replied the groom, casting a surly look at Sam.

  "You're wery right, old friend," said Sam; "I _do_ mean arternoon. Howare you?"

  "Why, I don't find myself much the better for seeing you," replied theill-tempered groom.

  "That's wery odd--that is," said Sam, "for you look so uncommoncheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it does vun's heart goodto see you."

  The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficientlyso to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately inquired, with acountenance of great anxiety, whether his master's name was not Walker.

  "No, it ain't," said the groom.

  "Nor Brown, I s'pose?" said Sam.

  "No, it ain't."

  "Nor Vilson?"

  "No; nor that neither," said the groom.

  "Vell," replied Sam, "then I'm mistaken, and he hasn't got the honouro' my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don't wait here out o'compliment to me," said Sam, as the groom wheeled in the barrow, andprepared to shut the gate. "Ease afore ceremony, old boy; I'll excuseyou."

  "I'd knock your head off for half-a-crown," said the surly groom,bolting one half of the gate.

  "Couldn't afford to have it done on those terms," rejoined Sam. "It'ud be worth a life's board vages at least, to you, and 'ud be cheapat that. Make my compliments indoors. Tell 'em not to vait dinner forme, and say they needn't mind puttin' any by, for it'll be cold afore Icome in."

  In reply to this the groom, waxing very wroth, muttered a desire todamage somebody's person; but disappeared without carrying it intoexecution, slamming the door angrily after him, and wholly unheedingSam's affectionate request that he would leave him a lock of his hairbefore he went.

  Sam continued to sit on the large stone, meditating upon what was bestto be done, and revolving in his mind a plan for knocking at all thedoors within five miles of Bristol, taking them at a hundred and fiftyor two hundred a day, and endeavouring to find Miss Arabella by thatexpedient, when accident all of a sudden threw in his way what he mighthave sat there for a twelvemonth and yet not found without it.

  Into the lane where he sat, there opened three or four garden-gates,belonging to as many houses, which though detached from eachother, were only separated by their gardens. As these were large andlong, and well planted with trees, the houses were not only at somedistance off, but the greater part of them were nearly concealed fromview. Sam was sitting with his eyes fixed upon the dust-heap outsidethe next gate to that by which the groom had disappeared, profoundlyturning over in his mind the difficulties of his present undertaking,when the gate opened, and a female servant came out into the lane toshake some bed-side carpets.

  Sam was so very busy with his own thoughts, that it is probable hewould have taken no more notice of the young woman than just raisinghis head and remarking that she had a very neat and pretty figure,if his feelings of gallantry had not been most strongly roused byobserving that she had no one to help her, and that the carpets seemedto
o heavy for her single strength. Mr. Weller was a gentleman of greatgallantry in his own way, and he no sooner remarked this circumstancethen he hastily rose from the large stone, and advanced towards her.

  "My dear," said Sam, sliding up with an air of great respect, "you'llspile that wery pretty figure out o' all perportion if you shake themcarpets by yourself. Let me help you."

  The young lady, who had been coyly affecting not to know that agentleman was so near, turned round as Sam spoke--no doubt (indeed shesaid so afterwards) to decline this offer from a perfect stranger--wheninstead of speaking, she started back, and uttered a half-suppressedscream. Sam was scarcely less staggered, for in the countenance ofthe well-shaped female servant, he beheld the very features of hisValentine, the pretty housemaid from Mr. Nupkins's.

  "Vy, Mary, my dear!" said Sam.

  "Lauk, Mr. Weller," said Mary, "how you do frighten one!"

  Sam made no verbal answer to this complaint, nor can we precisely saywhat reply he _did_ make. We merely know that after a short pause Marysaid, "Lor, do adun, Mr. Weller!" and that his hat had fallen off afew moments before--from both of which tokens we should be disposed toinfer that one kiss or more had passed between the parties.

  "_Lor', do adun, Mr. Weller!_"]

  "Why, how did you come here?" said Mary, when the conversation to whichthis interruption had been offered was resumed.

  "O' course I came to look arter you, my darlin'," replied Mr. Weller;for once permitting his passion to get the better of his veracity.

  "And how did you know I was here?" inquired Mary. "Who could have toldyou that I took another service at Ipswich, and that they afterwardsmoved all the way here? Who _could_ have told you that, Mr. Weller?"

  "Ah to be sure," said Sam, with a cunning look, "that's the pint. Whocould ha' told me?"

  "It wasn't Mr. Muzzle, was it?" inquired Mary.

  "Oh no," replied Sam, with a solemn shake of the head, "it warn't him."

  "It must have been the cook," said Mary.

  "O' course it must," said Sam.

  "Well, I never heard the like of that!" exclaimed Mary.

  "No more did I," said Sam. "But Mary, my dear:" here Sam's manner grewextremely affectionate: "Mary, my dear, I've got another affair in handas is wery pressin'. There's one o' my governor's friends--Mr. Winkle,you remember him?"

  "Him in the green coat?" said Mary. "Oh yes, I remember him."

  "Well," said Sam, "he's in a horrid state o' love; reg'larlycomfoozled, and done over with it."

  "Lor!" interposed Mary.

  "Yes," said Sam: "but that's nothing if we could find out the young'ooman;" and here Sam, with many digressions upon the personal beautyof Mary, and the unspeakable tortures he had experienced since he lastsaw her, gave a faithful account of Mr. Winkle's present predicament.

  "Well," said Mary, "I never did!"

  "O' course not," said Sam, "nobody never did, nor never vill neither;and here am I a walkin' about like the Wandering Jew--a sportin'character you have perhaps heerd on, Mary, my dear, as wos alvays doin'a match agin' time, and never vent to sleep--looking arter this hereMiss Arabella Allen."

  "Miss who?" said Mary, in great astonishment.

  "Miss Arabella Allen," said Sam.

  "Goodness gracious!" said Mary, pointing the garden door which thesulky groom had locked after him. "Why, it's that very house; she'sbeen living there these six weeks. Their upper housemaid, which islady's maid too, told me all about it over the wash-house palin'sbefore the family was out of bed one mornin'."

  "Wot, the wery next door to you?" said Sam.

  "The very next," replied Mary.

  Mr. Weller was so deeply overcome on receiving this intelligence thathe found it absolutely necessary to cling to his fair informant forsupport; and divers little love passages had passed between them,before he was sufficiently collected to return to the subject.

  "Vell," said Sam at length, "if this don't beat cock-fightin', nothin'never vill, as the Lord Mayor said, ven the chief secretary o' stateproposed his missis's health arter dinner. That wery next house! Wy,I've got a message to her as I've been a tryin' all day to deliver."

  "Ah," said Mary, "but you can't deliver it now, because she only walksin the garden in the evening, and then only for a very little time; shenever goes out, without the old lady."

  Sam ruminated for a few moments, and finally hit upon the followingplan of operations; that he should return just at dusk--the time atwhich Arabella invariably took her walk--and, being admitted by Maryinto the garden of the house to which she belonged, would contriveto scramble up the wall, beneath the overhanging boughs of a largepear-tree, which would effectually screen him from observation; wouldthere deliver his message, and arrange, if possible, an interview onbehalf of Mr. Winkle for the ensuing evening at the same hour. Havingmade this arrangement with great despatch, he assisted Mary in thelong-deferred occupation of shaking the carpets.

  It is not half as innocent a thing as it looks, that shaking littlepieces of carpet--at least, there may be no great harm in the shaking,but the folding is a very insidious process. So long as the shakinglasts, and the two parties are kept the carpet's length apart, it isas innocent an amusement as can well be devised; but when the foldingbegins, and the distance between them get gradually lessened from onehalf its former length to a quarter, and then to an eighth, and then toa sixteenth, and then to a thirty-second, if the carpet be long enough:it becomes dangerous. We do not know, to a nicety, how many pieces ofcarpet were folded in this instance, but we can venture to state thatas many pieces as there were, so many times did Sam kiss the prettyhousemaid.

  Mr. Weller regaled himself with moderation at the nearest tavernuntil it was nearly dusk, and then returned to the lane without thethoroughfare. Having been admitted into the garden by Mary, and havingreceived from that lady sundry admonitions concerning the safety of hislimbs and neck, Sam mounted into the pear-tree, to wait until Arabellashould come in sight.

  He waited so long without this anxiously expected event occurring, thathe began to think it was not going to take place at all, when he heardlight footsteps upon the gravel, and immediately afterwards beheldArabella walking pensively down the garden. As soon as she came nearlybelow the tree, Sam began, by way of gently indicating his presence,to make sundry diabolical noises similar to those which would probablybe natural to a person of middle age who had been afflicted with acombination of inflammatory sore throat, croup, and hooping-cough, fromhis earliest infancy.

  Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards the spot fromwhence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previous alarm being notat all diminished when she saw a man among the branches, she wouldmost certainly have decamped, and alarmed the house, had not fearfortunately deprived her of the power of moving, and caused her to sinkdown on a garden-seat; which happened by good luck to be near at hand.

  "She's a goin' off," soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. "Wot a thingit is, as these here young creeturs _will_ go a faintin' avay justven they oughtn't to. Here, young 'ooman, Miss Sawbones, Mrs. Vinkle,don't!"

  Whether it was the magic of Mr. Winkle's name, or the coolness of theopen air, or some recollection of Mr. Weller's voice, that revivedArabella, matters not. She raised her head and languidly inquired,"Who's that, and what do you want?"

  "Hush!" said Sam, swinging himself on to the wall, and crouching therein as small a compass as he could reduce himself to; "only me, miss,only me."

  "Mr. Pickwick's servant?" said Arabella, earnestly.

  "The wery same, miss," replied Sam. "Here's Mr. Vinkle reg'larly sewedup vith desperation, miss."

  "Ah!" said Arabella, drawing nearer the wall.

  "Ah, indeed," said Sam. "Ve thought ve should ha' been obliged tostraight-veskit him last night; he's been a ravin' all day; and he saysif he can't see you afore to-morrow night's over, he vishes he may besomethin'-unpleasanted if he don't drownd hisself."

  "Oh no, no, Mr. Weller!" said Arabella, clasping her hands.
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  "That's wot he says, miss," replied Sam. "He's a man of his word, andit's my opinion he'll do it, miss. He's heerd all about you from theSawbones in barnacles."

  "From my brother!" said Arabella, having some faint recognition ofSam's description.

  "I don't rightly know which is your brother, miss," replied Sam. "Is itthe dirtiest vun o' the two?"

  "Yes, yes, Mr. Weller," returned Arabella, "go on. Make haste, pray."

  "Well miss," said Sam, "he's heerd all about it from him; and it's thegov'nor's opinion that if you don't see him wery quick, the Sawbones aswe've been a speaking on, 'ull get as much extra lead in his head as'lldamage the dewelopment o' the orgins if they ever put it in spiritsartervards."

  "Oh, what can I do to prevent these dreadful quarrels!" exclaimedArabella.

  "It's the suspicion of a priory 'tachment as is the cause of it all,"replied Sam. "You'd better see him, miss."

  "But how?--where?" cried Arabella. "I dare not leave the house alone.My brother is so unkind, so unreasonable! I know how strange my talkingthus to you must appear, Mr. Weller, but I am very, very unhappy--" andhere poor Arabella wept so bitterly, that Sam grew chivalrous.

  "It may seem wery strange talkin' to me about these here affairs,miss," said Sam with great vehemence: "but all I can say is, that I'mnot only ready but villin' to do anythin' as'll make matters agreeable;and if chuckin' either o' them Sawboneses out o' winder 'ull do it, I'mthe man." As Sam Weller said his, he tucked up his wristbands, at theimminent hazard of falling off the wall in so doing, to intimate hisreadiness to set to work immediately.

  Flattering as these professions of good feeling were, Arabellaresolutely declined (most unaccountably, as Sam thought) to availherself of them. For some time she strenuously refused to grant Mr.Winkle the interview Sam had so pathetically requested; but at length,when the conversation threatened to be interrupted by the unwelcomearrival of a third party, she hurriedly gave him to understand, withmany professions of gratitude, that it was barely possible she mightbe in the garden an hour later, next evening. Sam understood thisperfectly well; and Arabella, bestowing upon him one of her sweetestsmiles, tripped gracefully away, leaving Mr. Weller in a state of verygreat admiration of her charms, both personal and mental.

  Having descended in safety from the wall, and not forgotten to devotea few moments to his own particular business in the same department,Mr. Weller then made the best of his way back to the Bush, where hisprolonged absence had occasioned much speculation and some alarm.

  "We must be careful," said Mr. Pickwick, after listening attentively toSam's tale, "not for our own sakes, but for that of the young lady. Wemust be very cautious."

  "_We!_" said Mr. Winkle, with marked emphasis.

  Mr. Pickwick's momentary look of indignation at the tone of this remarksubsided into his characteristic expression of benevolence, as hereplied:

  "_We_, sir! I shall accompany you."

  "You!" said Mr. Winkle.

  "I," replied Mr. Pickwick, mildly. "In affording you this interview,the young lady has taken a natural, perhaps, but still a very imprudentstep. If I am present at the meeting, a mutual friend, who is oldenough to be the father of both parties, the voice of calumny can neverbe raised against her hereafter."

  Mr. Pickwick's eyes lightened with honest exultation at his ownforesight, as he spoke thus. Mr. Winkle was touched by this littletrait of his delicate respect for the young _prot?g?e_ of his friend,and took his hand with a feeling of regard, akin to veneration.

  "You _shall_ go," said Mr. Winkle.

  "I will," said Mr. Pickwick. "Sam, have my great-coat and shawl ready,and order a conveyance to be at the door to-morrow evening, ratherearlier than is absolutely necessary, in order that we may be in goodtime."

  Mr. Weller touched his hat, as an earnest of his obedience, andwithdrew to make all needful preparations for the expedition.

  The coach was punctual to the time appointed; and Mr. Weller, afterduly installing Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle inside, took his seat onthe box by the driver. They alighted, as had been agreed on, abouta quarter of a mile from the place of rendezvous, and desiring thecoachman to await their return, proceeded the remaining distance onfoot.

  It was at this stage of the undertaking that Mr. Pickwick, with manysmiles and various other indications of great self-satisfaction,produced from one of his coat pockets a dark lantern, with which he hadspecially provided himself for the occasion, and the great mechanicalbeauty of which he proceeded to explain to Mr. Winkle as they walkedalong, to the no small surprise of the few stragglers they met.

  "I should have been the better for something of this kind in my lastgarden expedition, at night; eh, Sam?" said Mr. Pickwick, lookinggood-humouredly round at his follower, who was trudging behind.

  "Wery nice things if they're managed properly, sir," replied Mr.Weller; "but when you don't want to be seen, I think they're moreuseful arter the candle's gone out, than ven it's alight."

  Mr. Pickwick appeared struck with Sam's remarks, for he put the lanterninto his pocket again, and they walked on in silence.

  "Down here, sir," said Sam. "Let me lead the way. This is the lane,sir."

  Down the lane they went, and dark enough it was. Mr. Pickwick broughtout the lantern, once or twice, as they groped their way along, andthrew a very brilliant little tunnel of light before them, about a footin diameter. It was very pretty to look at, but seemed to have theeffect of rendering surrounding objects rather darker than before.

  At length they arrived at the large stone. Here Sam recommended hismaster and Mr. Winkle to seat themselves, while he reconnoitred, andascertained whether Mary was yet in waiting.

  After an absence of five or ten minutes, Sam returned, to say that thegate was opened, and all quiet. Following him with stealthy tread,Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle soon found themselves in the garden. Hereeverybody said "Hush!" a good many times; and that being done, no oneseemed to have any very distinct apprehension of what was to be donenext.

  "Is Miss Allen in the garden yet, Mary?" inquired Mr. Winkle, muchagitated.

  "I don't know, sir," replied the pretty housemaid. "The best thingto be done, sir, will be for Mr. Weller to give you a hoist up intothe tree, and perhaps Mr. Pickwick will have the goodness to see thatnobody comes up the lane, while I watch at the other end of the garden.Goodness gracious, what's that!"

  "That 'ere blessed lantern 'ull be the death on us all," exclaimed Sam,peevishly. "Take care wot you're a doin' on, sir; you're a sendin' ablaze o' light, right into the back parlour winder."

  "Dear me!" said Mr. Pickwick, turning hastily aside, "I didn't mean todo that."

  "Now, it's in the next house, sir," remonstrated Sam.

  "Bless my heart!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning round again.

  "Now, it's in the stable, and they'll think the place is afire," saidSam. "Shut it up, sir, can't you?"

  "It's the most extraordinary lantern I ever met with, in all my life!"exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, greatly bewildered by the effects he had sounintentionally produced. "I never saw such a powerful reflector."

  "It'll be vun too powerful for us, if you keep blazin' avay in thatmanner, sir," replied Sam, as Mr. Pickwick, after various unsuccessfulefforts, managed to close the slide. "There's the young lady'sfootsteps. Now, Mr. Vinkle, sir, up vith you."

  "Stop, stop!" said Mr. Pickwick, "I must speak to her first. Help meup, Sam."

  "Gently, sir," said Sam, planting his head against the wall, and makinga platform of his back. "Step a top o' that 'ere flower-pot, sir. Nowthen, up vith you."

  "I'm afraid I shall hurt you, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick.

  "Never mind me, sir," replied Sam. "Lend him a hand, Mr. Vinkle, sir.Steady, sir, steady. That's the time o' day!"

  As Sam spoke, Mr. Pickwick, by exertions almost supernatural in agentleman of his years and weight, contrived to get upon Sam's back;and Sam gently raising himself up, and Mr. Pickwick holding on fast bythe top of the wall, while Mr. Winkle clasped him tight
by the legs,they contrived by these means to bring his spectacles just above thelevel of the coping.

  "My dear," said Mr. Pickwick, looking over the wall, and catching sightof Arabella, on the other side. "Don't be frightened, my dear, it'sonly me."

  "Oh pray go away, Mr. Pickwick," said Arabella. "Tell them all to goaway. I am so dreadfully frightened. Dear, dear Mr. Pickwick, don'tstop there. You'll fall down and kill yourself, I know you will."

  "Now, pray don't alarm yourself, my dear," said Mr. Pickwicksoothingly. "There is not the least cause for fear, I assure you. Standfirm, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, looking down.

  "All right, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Don't be longer than you canconweniently help, sir. You're rayther heavy."

  "Only another moment, Sam," replied Mr. Pickwick. "I merely wished youto know, my dear, that I should not have allowed my young friend to seeyou in this clandestine way, if the situation in which you are placedhad left him any alternative; and lest the impropriety of this stepshould cause you any uneasiness, my love, it may be a satisfaction toyou, to know that I am present. That's all, my dear."

  "Indeed, Mr. Pickwick, I am very much obliged to you for your kindnessand consideration," replied Arabella, drying her tears with herhandkerchief. She would probably have said much more, had not Mr.Pickwick's head disappeared with great swiftness, in consequence of afalse step on Sam's shoulder, which brought him suddenly to the ground.He was up again in an instant, however, and bidding Mr. Winkle makehaste and get the interview over, ran out into the lane to keep watch,with all the courage and ardour of youth. Mr. Winkle himself, inspiredby the occasion, was on the wall in a moment, merely pausing to requestSam to be careful of his master.

  "I'll take care on him, sir," replied Sam. "Leave him to me."

  "Where is he? What's he doing, Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle.

  "Bless his old gaiters!" rejoined Sam, looking out at the garden door,"he's a keepin' guard in the lane vith that 'ere dark lantern, like aamiable Guy Fawkes! I never see such a fine creetur in my days. Blessedif I don't think his heart must ha' been born five-and-twenty yeararter his body, at least!"

  Mr. Winkle stayed not to hear the encomium upon his friend. He haddropped from the wall; thrown himself at Arabella's feet; and by thistime was pleading the sincerity of his passion with an eloquence worthyeven of Mr. Pickwick himself.

  While these things were going on in the open air, an elderly gentlemanof scientific attainments was seated in his library, two or threehouses off, writing a philosophical treatise, and ever and anonmoistening his clay and his labours with a glass of claret from avenerable-looking bottle which stood by his side. In the agonies ofcomposition, the elderly gentleman looked sometimes at the carpet,sometimes at the ceiling, and sometimes at the wall; and whenneither carpet, ceiling, nor wall, afforded the requisite degree ofinspiration, he looked out of the window.

  In one of these pauses of invention, the scientific gentleman wasgazing abstractedly on the thick darkness outside, when he was verymuch surprised by observing a most brilliant light glide through theair at a short distance above the ground, and almost instantaneouslyvanish. After a short time the phenomenon was repeated, not once ortwice, but several times: at last the scientific gentleman, laying downhis pen, began to consider to what natural causes these appearanceswere to be assigned.

  They were not meteors; they were too low. They were not glow-worms;they were too high. They were not will-o'-the-wisps; they were notfire-flies; they were not fire-works. What could they be? Someextraordinary and wonderful phenomenon of nature, which no philosopherhad ever seen before; something which it had been reserved for himalone to discover, and which he should immortalise his name bychronicling for the benefit of posterity. Full of this idea, thescientific gentleman seized his pen again, and committed to papersundry notes of these unparalleled appearances, with the date, day,hour, minute, and precise second at which they were visible: all ofwhich were to form the data of a voluminous treatise of great researchand deep learning, which should astonish all the atmospherical sagesthat ever drew breath in any part of the civilised globe.

  He threw himself back in his easy chair, wrapped in contemplations ofhis future greatness. The mysterious light appeared more brilliantlythan before: dancing, to all appearances, up and down the lane,crossing from side to side, and moving in an orbit as eccentric ascomets themselves.

  The scientific gentleman was a bachelor. He had no wife to call in andastonish, so he rang the bell for his servant.

  "Pruffle," said the scientific gentleman, "there is something veryextraordinary in the air to-night. Did you see that?" said thescientific gentleman, pointing out of the window, as the light againbecame visible.

  "Yes, I did, sir."

  "What do you think of it, Pruffle?"

  "Think of it, sir?"

  "Yes. You have been bred up in this country. What should you say wasthe cause of those lights, now?"

  The scientific gentleman smilingly anticipated Pruffle's reply that hecould assign no cause for them at all. Pruffle meditated.

  "I should say it was thieves, sir," said Pruffle at length.

  "You're a fool, and may go down-stairs," said the scientific gentleman.

  "Thank you, sir," said Pruffle. And down he went.

  But the scientific gentleman could not rest under the idea of theingenious treatise he had projected being lost to the world, which mustinevitably be the case if the speculation of the ingenious Mr. Prufflewere not stifled in its birth. He put on his hat and walked quicklydown the garden, determined to investigate the matter to the verybottom.

  Now, shortly before the scientific gentleman walked out into thegarden, Mr. Pickwick had run down the lane as fast as he could, toconvey a false alarm that somebody was coming that way; occasionallydrawing back the slide of the dark lantern to keep himself from theditch. The alarm was no sooner given, than Mr. Winkle scrambled backover the wall, and Arabella ran into the house; the garden-gate wasshut, and the three adventurers were making the best of their way downthe lane, when they were startled by the scientific old gentlemanunlocking his garden-gate.

  "Hold hard," whispered Sam, who was, of course, the first of the party."Show a light for just vun second, sir."

  Mr. Pickwick did as he was desired, and Sam, seeing a man's headpeeping out very cautiously within half a yard of his own, gaveit a gentle tap with his clenched fist, which knocked it, with ahollow sound, against the gate. Having performed this feat withgreat suddenness and dexterity, Mr. Weller caught Mr. Pickwick upon his back, and followed Mr. Winkle down the lane at a pace which,considering the burden he carried, was perfectly astonishing.

  "Have you got your vind back agin, sir," inquired Sam, when they hadreached the end.

  "Quite. Quite, now," replied Mr. Pickwick.

  "Then come along, sir," said Sam, setting his master on his feet again."Come between us, sir. Not half a mile to run. Think you're vinnin' acup, sir. Now for it."

  Thus encouraged, Mr. Pickwick made the very best use of his legs. Itmay be confidently stated that a pair of black gaiters never got overthe ground in better style than did those of Mr. Pickwick on thismemorable occasion.

  The coach was waiting, the horses were fresh, the roads were good, andthe driver was willing. The whole party arrived in safety at the Bushbefore Mr. Pickwick had recovered his breath.

  "In with you at once, sir," said Sam, as he helped his master out."Don't stop a second in the street, arter that 'ere exercise. Beg yourpardon, sir," continued Sam, touching his hat as Mr. Winkle descended."Hope there warn't a priory 'tachment, sir?"

  Mr. Winkle grasped his humble friend by the hand, and whispered inhis ear, "It's all right, Sam; quite right." Upon which Mr. Wellerstruck three distinct blows upon his nose in token of intelligence,smiled, winked, and proceeded to put the steps up, with a countenanceexpressive of lively satisfaction.

  As to the scientific gentleman, he demonstrated, in a masterlytreatise, that these wonderful lights were the effect of electricity;and c
learly proved the same by detailing how a flash of fire dancedbefore his eyes when he put his head out of the gate, and how hereceived a shock which stunned him for a quarter of an hour afterwards;which demonstration delighted all the Scientific Associations beyondmeasure, and caused him to be considered a light of science everafterwards.