The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 2 (of 2) Read online

  CHAPTER V

  _Mr. Weller the Elder delivers some Critical Sentiments respecting Literary Composition; and, assisted by his son Samuel, pays a small Instalment of Retaliation to the Account of the Reverend Gentleman with the Red Nose_

  The morning of the thirteenth of February, which the readers of thisauthentic narrative know, as well as we do, to have been the dayimmediately preceding that which was appointed for the trial of Mrs.Bardell's action, was a busy time for Mr. Samuel Weller, who wasperpetually engaged in travelling from the George and Vulture to Mr.Perker's chambers and back again, from and between the hours of nineo'clock in the morning and two in the afternoon, both inclusive. Notthat there was anything whatever to be done, for the consultation hadtaken place, and the course of proceeding to be adopted, had beenfinally determined on; but Mr. Pickwick being in a most extreme stateof excitement, persevered in constantly sending small notes to hisattorney, merely containing the inquiry, "Dear Perker. Is all goingon well?" to which Mr. Perker invariably forwarded the reply, "DearPickwick. As well as possible;" the fact being, as we have alreadyhinted, that there was nothing whatever to go on, either well or ill,until the sitting of the court on the following morning.

  But people who go voluntarily to law, or are taken forcibly there,for the first time, may be allowed to labour under some temporaryirritation and anxiety: and Sam, with a due allowance for thefrailties of human nature, obeyed all his master's behests with thatimperturbable good humour and unruffable composure which formed one ofhis most striking and amiable characteristics.

  Sam had solaced himself with a most agreeable little dinner, and waswaiting at the bar for the glass of warm mixture in which Mr. Pickwickhad requested him to drown the fatigues of his morning's walks, when ayoung boy of about three feet high, or thereabouts, in a hairy cap andfustian over-alls, whose garb bespoke a laudable ambition to attain intime the elevation of an hostler, entered the passage of the George andVulture, and looked first up the stairs, and then along the passage,and then into the bar, as if in search of somebody to whom he bore acommission; whereupon the barmaid, conceiving it not improbable thatthe said commission might be directed to the tea or table spoons of theestablishment, accosted the boy with:

  "Now, young man, what do _you_ want?"

  "Is there anybody here, named Sam?" inquired the youth, in a loud voiceof treble quality.

  "_Is there anybody here, named Sam?_"]

  "What's the t'other name?" said Sam Weller, looking round.

  "How should I know?" briskly replied the young gentleman below thehairy cap.

  "You're a sharp boy, you are," said Mr. Weller; "only I wouldn't showthat wery fine edge too much, if I was you, in case anybody took itoff. What do you mean by comin' to a hot-el and asking arter Sam, vithas much politeness as a vild Indian?"

  "'Cos an old gen'l'm'n told me to," replied the boy.

  "What old gen'l'm'n?" inquired Sam, with deep disdain.

  "Him as drives a Ipswich coach, and uses our parlour," rejoined theboy. "He told me yesterday mornin' to come to the George and Wulturthis arternoon, and ask for Sam."

  "It's my father, my dear," said Mr. Weller, turning with an explanatoryair to the young lady in the bar; "blessed if I think he hardly knowswot my other name is. Vell, young brockiley sprout, wot then?"

  "Why, then," said the boy, "you was to come to him at six o'clock toour 'ouse, 'cos he wants to see you--Blue Boar, Leaden'all Markit.Shall I say you're comin'?"

  "You _may_ wenture on that 'ere statement, sir," replied Sam. And thusempowered, the young gentleman walked away, awakening all the echoes inGeorge Yard, as he did so, with several chaste and extremely correctimitations of a drover's whistle, delivered in a tone of peculiarrichness and volume.

  Mr. Weller having obtained leave of absence from Mr. Pickwick, who,in his then state of excitement and worry was by no means displeasedat being left alone, set forth, long before the appointed hour, andhaving plenty of time at his disposal, sauntered down as far as theMansion House, where he paused and contemplated, with a face of greatcalmness and philosophy, the numerous cads and drivers of short stageswho assemble near that famous place of resort, to the great terror andconfusion of the old-lady population of these realms. Having loiteredhere, for half an hour or so, Mr. Weller turned, and began wending hisway towards Leadenhall Market, through a variety of by-streets andcourts. As he was sauntering away his spare time, and stopped to lookat almost every object that met his gaze, it is by no means surprisingthat Mr. Weller should have paused before a small stationer's andprint-seller's window; but without further explanation it does appearsurprising that his eyes should have no sooner rested on certainpictures which were exposed for sale therein, than he gave a suddenstart, smote his right leg with great vehemence, and exclaimed withenergy, "If it hadn't been for this, I should ha' forgot all about it,till it was too late!"

  The particular picture on which Sam Weller's eyes were fixed, as hesaid this, was a highly coloured representation of a couple of humanhearts, skewered together with an arrow, cooking before a cheerfulfire, while a male and female cannibal in modern attire: the gentlemanbeing clad in a blue coat and white trousers, and the lady in a deepred pelisse with a parasol of the same: were approaching the meal withhungry eyes, up a serpentine gravel path leading thereunto. A decidedlyindelicate young gentleman, in a pair of wings and nothing else, wasdepicted as superintending the cooking; a representation of the spireof the church in Langham Place, London, appeared in the distance; andthe whole formed a "valentine," of which, as a written inscription inthe window testified, there was a large assortment within, which theshopkeeper pledged himself to dispose of, to his countrymen generally,at the reduced rate of one and sixpence each.

  "I should ha' forgot it; I should certainly ha' forgot it!" said Sam;so saying, he at once stepped into the stationer's shop, and requestedto be served with a sheet of the best gilt-edged letter-paper, anda hard-nibbed pen which could be warranted not to splutter. Thesearticles having been promptly supplied, he walked on direct towardsLeadenhall Market at a good round pace, very different from his recentlingering one. Looking round him, he there beheld a sign-board onwhich the painter's art had delineated something remotely resemblinga cerulean elephant with an aquiline nose in lieu of trunk. Rightlyconjecturing that this was the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into thehouse, and inquired concerning his parent.

  "He won't be here this three-quarters of an hour or more," said theyoung lady who superintended the domestic arrangements of the Blue Boar.

  "Wery good, my dear," replied Sam. "Let me have nine penn'orth o'brandy and water luke, and the inkstand, will you, miss?"

  The brandy and water luke, and the inkstand, having been carried intothe little parlour, and the young lady having carefully flattened downthe coals to prevent their blazing, and carried away the poker topreclude the possibility of the fire being stirred, without the fullprivity and concurrence of the Blue Boar being first had and obtained,Sam Weller sat himself down in a box near the stove, and pulled out thesheet of gilt-edged letter-paper, and the hard-nibbed pen. Then lookingcarefully at the pen to see that there were no hairs in it, and dustingdown the table, so that there might be no crumbs of bread under thepaper, Sam tucked up the cuffs of his coat, squared his elbows, andcomposed himself to write.

  To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting themselvespractically to the science of penmanship, writing a letter is no veryeasy task; it being always considered necessary in such cases forthe writer to recline his head on his left arm, so as to place hiseyes as nearly as possible on a level with the paper, while glancingsideways at the letters he is constructing, and to form with histongue imaginary characters to correspond. These motions, althoughunquestionably of the greatest assistance to original composition,retard in some degree the progress of the writer; and Sam hadunconsciously been a full hour and a half writing words in small text,smearing out wrong letters with his little finger, and putting in newones which required going
over often to render them visible throughthe old blots, when he was roused by the opening of the door and theentrance of his parent.

  "Vell, Sammy," said the father.

  "Vell, my Prooshan Blue," responded the son, laying down his pen."What's the last bulletin about mother-in-law?"

  "'Mrs. Weller passed a very good night, but is uncommon perwerse andunpleasant this mornin'. Signed upon oath, S. Veller, Esquire, Senior.'That's the last vun as was issued, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, untyinghis shawl.

  "No better yet?" inquired Sam.

  "All the symptoms aggerawated," replied Mr. Weller, shaking hishead. "But wot's that, you're a doin' of? Pursuit of knowledge underdifficulties, Sammy?"

  "I've done now," said Sam, with slight embarrassment; "I've been awritin'."

  "So I see," replied Mr. Weller. "Not to any young 'ooman, I hope,Sammy?"

  "Why it's no use a sayin' it ain't," replied Sam. "It's a walentine."

  "A what!" exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by the word.

  _"A what!" asked Mr. Weller, apparently horror-strickenby the word. "A walentine," replied Sam._]

  "A walentine," replied Sam.

  "Samivel, Samivel," said Mr. Weller, in reproachful accents, "I didn'tthink you'd ha' done it. Arter the warnin' you've had o' your father'swicious propensities; arter all I've said to you upon this here werysubject; arter actiwally seein' and bein' in the company o' your ownmother-in-law, vich I should ha' thought wos a moral lesson as no mancould never ha' forgotten to his dyin' day! I didn't think you'd ha'done it, Sammy, I didn't think you'd ha' done it!" These reflectionswere too much for the good old man. He raised Sam's tumbler to his lipsand drank off its contents.

  "Wot's the matter now?" said Sam.

  "Nev'r mind, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, "it'll be a wery agonizin'trial to me at my time of life, but I'm pretty tough, that's vunconsolation, as the wery old turkey remarked ven the farmer said he wosafeerd he should be obliged to kill him for the London market."

  "Wot'll be a trial?" inquired Sam.

  "To see you married, Sammy--to see you a dilluded wictim, and thinkin'in your innocence that it's all wery capital," replied Mr. Weller."It's a dreadful trial to a father's feelin's, that 'ere, Sammy."

  "Nonsense," said Sam. "I ain't a goin' to get married, don't you fretyourself about that; I know you're a judge of these things. Order inyour pipe, and I'll read you the letter. There!"

  We cannot distinctly say whether it was the prospect of the pipe, orthe consolatory reflection that a fatal disposition to get marriedran in the family and couldn't be helped, which calmed Mr. Weller'sfeelings, and caused his grief to subside. We should be rather disposedto say that the result was attained by combining the two sources ofconsolation, for he repeated the second in a low tone, very frequently;ringing the bell meanwhile, to order in the first. He then divestedhimself of his upper coat; and lighting the pipe and placing himself infront of the fire with his back towards it, so that he could feel itsfull heat, and recline against the mantelpiece at the same time, turnedtowards Sam, and, with a countenance greatly mollified by the softeninginfluence of tobacco, requested him to "fire away."

  Sam dipped his pen into the ink to be ready for any corrections, andbegan with a very theatrical air:

  "'Lovely----'"

  "Stop," said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. "A double glass o' theinwariable, my dear."

  "Very well, sir," replied the girl; who with great quickness appeared,vanished, returned, and disappeared.

  "They seem to know your ways here," observed Sam.

  "Yes," replied his father, "I've been here before, in my time. Go on,Sammy."

  "'Lovely creetur,'" repeated Sam.

  "'Tain't in poetry, is it?" interposed his father.

  "No, no," replied Sam.

  "Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. "Poetry's unnat'ral; no manever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day, or Warren's blackin',or Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fellows; never you let yourselfdown to talk poetry, my boy. Begin agin, Sammy."

  Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity, and Sam once morecommenced, and read as follows:

  "'Lovely creetur i feel myself a damned----'"

  "That ain't proper," said Mr. Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth.

  "No; it ain't 'damned,'" observed Sam, holding the letter up to thelight, "it's 'shamed,' there's a blot there--'I feel myself ashamed.'"

  "Wery good," said Mr. Weller. "Go on."

  "'Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir--' I forget what this hereword is," said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in vain attemptsto remember.

  "Why don't you look at it, then?" inquired Mr. Weller.

  "So I _am_ a lookin' at it," replied Sam, "but there's another blot.Here's a 'c,' and a 'i,' and a 'd.'"

  "Circumwented, p'raps," suggested Mr. Weller.

  "No, it ain't that," said Sam, "circumscribed; that's it."

  "That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy," said Mr. Weller,gravely.

  "Think not?" said Sam.

  "Nothin' like it," replied his father.

  "But don't you think it means more?" inquired Sam.

  "Vell, p'raps it is a more tenderer word," said Mr. Weller, after amoment's reflection. "Go on, Sammy."

  "'Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in a dressin' ofyou, for you _are_ a nice gal and nothin' but it.'"

  "That's a wery pretty sentiment," said the elder Mr. Weller, removinghis pipe to make way for the remark.

  "Yes, I think it is rayther good," observed Sam, highly flattered.

  "Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin'," said the elder Mr. Weller,"is that there ain't no callin' names in it--no Wenuses, nor nothin' o'that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus or a angel,Sammy?"

  "Ah! what, indeed?" replied Sam.

  "You might jist as well call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or a king'sarms at once, which is wery well known to be a col-lection o' fabulousanimals," added Mr. Weller.

  "Just as well," replied Sam.

  "Drive on, Sammy," said Mr. Weller.

  Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows: his fathercontinuing to smoke, with a mixed expression of wisdom and complacency,which was particularly edifying,

  "'Afore I see you, I thought all women was alike.'"

  "So they are," observed the elder Mr. Weller, parenthetically.

  "'But now,' continued Sam, 'now I find what a reg'lar soft-headed,inkred'lous turnip I must ha' been; for there ain't nobody like you,though _I_ like you better than nothin' at all.' I thought it best tomake that rayther strong," said Sam, looking up.

  Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed.

  "'So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary my dear--as the gen'l'm'nin difficulties did, ven he walked out of a Sunday--to tell you thatthe first and only time I see you, your likeness was took on my hartin much quicker time and brighter colours than ever a likeness wastook by the profeel macheen (vich p'raps you may have heerd on Mary mydear) altho it _does_ finish a portrait and put the frame and glasson complete, with a hook at the end to hang it up by, and all in twominutes and a quarter.'"

  "I am afeerd that werges on the poetical, Sammy," said Mr. Weller,dubiously.

  "No it don't," replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to avoidcontesting the point.

  "'Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over what I'vesaid.--My dear Mary I will now conclude.' That's all," said Sam.

  "That's rather a sudden pull up, ain't it, Sammy?" inquired Mr. Weller.

  "Not a bit on it," said Sam; "she'll vish there wos more, and that'sthe great art o' letter writin'."

  "Well," said Mr. Weller, "there's somethin' in that; and I wish yourmother-in-law 'ud only conduct her conwersation on the same gen-teelprinciple. Ain't you a goin' to sign it?"

  "That's the difficulty," said Sam; "I don't know what _to_ sign it."

  "Sign it, Veller," said the oldest surviving proprietor of that
name.

  "Won't do," said Sam. "Never sign a walentine with your own name."

  "Sign it 'Pickvick,' then," said Mr. Weller; "it's a wery good name andan easy one to spell."

  "The wery thing," said Sam. "I _could_ end with a werse; what do youthink?"

  "I don't like it, Sam," rejoined Mr. Weller. "I never know'd arespectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin'copy o' werses the night afore he wos hung for a highway robbery; and_he_ wos only a Cambervell man, so even that's no rule."

  But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the poetical idea that hadoccurred to him, so he signed the letter,

  "Your love-sick Pickwick."

  And having folded it in a very intricate manner, squeezed a down-hilldirection in one corner: "To Mary, Housemaid, at Mr. Nupkins's Mayor's,Ipswich, Suffolk;" and put it into his pocket, wafered, and ready forthe general post. This important business having been transacted, Mr.Weller the elder proceeded to open that on which he had summoned hisson.

  "The first matter relates to your governor, Sammy," said Mr. Weller."He's a goin' to be tried to-morrow, ain't he?"

  "The trial's a comin' on," replied Sam.

  "Vell," said Mr. Weller, "now I s'pose he'll want to call somewitnesses to speak to his character, or p'raps to prove a alleybi. I'vebeen a turnin' the business over in my mind, and he may make his-selfeasy, Sammy. I've got some friends as'll do either for him, but myadwice 'ud be this here--never mind the character, and stick to thealleybi. Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing." Mr. Weller lookedvery profound as he delivered this legal opinion; and burying his nosein his tumbler, winked over the top thereof, at his astonished son.

  "Why, what do you mean?" said Sam; "you don't think he's a goin' to betried at the Old Bailey, do you?"

  "That ain't no part of the present con-sideration, Sammy," replied Mr.Weller. "Verever he's a goin' to be tried, my boy, a alleybi's thething to get him off. Ve got Tom Vildspark off that 'ere manslaughter,with a alleybi, ven all the big vigs to a man said as nothin' couldn'tsave him. And my 'pinion is, Sammy, that if your governor don't provea alleybi, he'll be what the Italians call reg'larly flummoxed, andthat's all about it."

  As the elder Mr. Weller entertained a firm and unalterable convictionthat the Old Bailey was the supreme court of judicature in thiscountry, and that its rules and forms of proceeding regulated andcontrolled the practice of all other courts of justice whatsoever, hetotally disregarded the assurances and arguments of his son, tendingto show that the alibi was inadmissible; and vehemently protested thatMr. Pickwick was being "wictimised." Finding that it was of no use todiscuss the matter further, Sam changed the subject, and inquired whatthe second topic was, on which his revered parent wished to consult him.

  "That's a pint o' domestic policy, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. "This hereStiggins----"

  "Red-nosed man?" inquired Sam.

  "The wery same," replied Mr. Weller. "This here red-nosed man, Sammy,wisits your mother-in-law vith a kindness and constancy as I never seeequalled. He's sitch a friend o' the family, Sammy, that ven he's avayfrom us, he can't be comfortable unless he has somethin' to remember usby."

  "And I'd give him somethin' as 'ud turpentine and bees'-vax his memoryfor the next ten year or so, if I wos you," interposed Sam.

  "Stop a minute," said Mr. Weller; "I wos a going to say, he alwaysbrings now, a flat bottle as holds about a pint and a half and fills itvith the pine-apple rum afore he goes avay."

  "And empties it afore he comes back, I s'pose?" said Sam.

  "Clean!" replied Mr. Weller; "never leaves nothin' in it but the corkand the smell; trust him for that, Sammy. Now, these here fellows,my boy, are a goin' to-night to get up the monthly meetin' o' theBrick Lane Branch o' the United Grand Junction Ebenezer TemperanceAssociation. Your mother-in-law _wos_ a goin', Sammy, but she's gotthe rheumatics, and can't; and I, Sammy--I've got the two tickets aswos sent her." Mr. Weller communicated his secret with great glee, andwinked so indefatigably after doing so, that Sam began to think he musthave got the _tic doloureux_ in his right eye-lid.

  "Well?" said that young gentleman.

  "Well," continued his progenitor, looking round him very cautiously,"you and I'll go, punctival to the time. The deputy shepherd won't,Sammy; the deputy shepherd won't." Here Mr. Weller was seized with aparoxysm of chuckles, which gradually terminated in as near an approachto a choke as an elderly gentleman can, with safety, sustain.

  "Well, I never see sitch an old ghost in all my born days," exclaimedSam, rubbing the old gentleman's back, hard enough to set him on firewith friction. "What are you a laughin' at, corpilence?"

  "Hush! Sammy," said Mr. Weller, looking round him with increasedcaution, and speaking in a whisper: "Two friends o' mine, as worksthe Oxford Road, and is up to all kinds o' games, has got the deputyshepherd safe in tow, Sammy; and ven he does come to the EbenezerJunction (vich he's sure to do: for they'll see him to the door,and shove him in if necessary), he'll be as far gone in rum andwater, as ever he wos at the Markis o' Granby, Dorkin', and that'snot sayin' a little neither." And with this, Mr. Weller once morelaughed immoderately, and once more relapsed into a state of partialsuffocation, in consequence.

  Nothing could have been more in accordance with Sam Weller's feelings,than the projected exposure of the real propensities and qualitiesof the red-nosed man; and it being very near the appointed hour ofmeeting, the father and son took their way at once to Brick Lane: Samnot forgetting to drop his letter into a general post-office as theywalked along.

  The monthly meetings of the Brick Lane Branch of the United GrandJunction Ebenezer Temperance Association were held in a large room,pleasantly and airily situated at the top of a safe and commodiousladder. The president was the straight-walking Mr. Anthony Humm, aconverted fireman, now a schoolmaster, and occasionally an itinerantpreacher; and the secretary was Mr. Jonas Mudge, chandler's-shopkeeper, an enthusiastic and disinterested vessel, who sold tea to themembers. Previous to the commencement of business, the ladies sat uponforms, and drank tea, till such time as they considered it expedient toleave off; and a large wooden money-box was conspicuously placed uponthe green baize cloth of the business table, behind which the secretarystood, and acknowledged, with a gracious smile, every addition to therich vein of copper which lay concealed within.

  On this particular occasion the women drank tea to a most alarmingextent; greatly to the horror of Mr. Weller senior, who, utterlyregardless of all Sam's admonitory nudgings, stared about him in everydirection with the most undisguised astonishment.

  "Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, "if some o' these here people don't wanttappin' to-morrow mornin', I ain't your father, and that's wot it is.Why, this here old lady next me is a drowndin' herself in tea."

  "Be quiet, can't you?" murmured Sam.

  "Sam," whispered Mr. Weller, a moment afterwards, in a tone of deepagitation, "mark my words, my boy. If that 'ere secretary fellow keepson for only five minutes more, he'll blow hisself up with toast andwater."

  "Well, let him, if he likes," replied Sam; "it ain't no bis'ness o'yourn."

  "If this here lasts much longer, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, in the samelow voice, "I shall feel it my duty, as a human bein', to rise andaddress the cheer. There's a young 'ooman on the next form but two, ashas drunk nine breakfast cups and a half; and she's a swellin' wisiblybefore my wery eyes."

  There is little doubt that Mr. Weller would have carried his benevolentintention into immediate execution, if a great noise, occasioned byputting up the cups and saucers, had not very fortunately announcedthat the tea-drinking was over. The crockery having been removed, thetable with the green baize cover was carried out into the centre ofthe room, and the business of the evening was commenced by a littleemphatic man, with a bald head, and drab shorts, who suddenly rushedup the ladder, at the imminent peril of snapping the two little legsencased in the drab shorts, and said:

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I move our excellent brother, Mr. Anthony Humm,into the chair."

>   The ladies waved a choice collection of pocket-handkerchiefs at thisproposition; and the impetuous little man literally moved Mr. Humminto the chair, by taking him by the shoulders and thrusting him intoa mahogany frame which had once represented that article of furniture.The waving of handkerchiefs was renewed; and Mr. Humm, who was a sleek,white-faced man, in a perpetual perspiration, bowed meekly, to thegreat admiration of the females, and formally took his seat. Silencewas then proclaimed by the little man in the drab shorts, and Mr. Hummrose and said--That, with the permission of his Brick Lane Branchbrothers and sisters, then and there present, the secretary would readthe report of the Brick Lane Branch committee; a proposition which wasagain received with a demonstration of pocket-handkerchiefs.

  The secretary having sneezed in a very impressive manner, and the coughwhich always seizes an assembly, when anything particular is going tobe done, having been duly performed, the following document was read:

  "+Report of the Committee of the Brick Lane Branch of the United GrandJunction Ebenezer Temperance Association+

  "Your committee have pursued their grateful labours during the pastmonth, and have the unspeakable pleasure of reporting the followingadditional cases of converts to Temperance.

  "H. Walker, tailor, wife, and two children. When in bettercircumstances, owns to having been in the constant habit of drinkingale and beer; says he is not certain whether he did not twice aweek for twenty years taste 'dog's nose,' which your committee findupon inquiry to be compounded of warm porter, moist sugar, gin, andnutmeg (a groan, and 'So it is!' from an elderly female). Is now outof work and penniless; thinks it must be the porter (cheers) or theloss of the use of his right hand; is not certain which, but thinksit very likely that, if he had drunk nothing but water all his life,his fellow-workman would never have stuck a rusty needle in him, andthereby occasioned his accident (tremendous cheering). Has nothing butcold water to drink, and never feels thirsty (great applause).

  "Betsy Martin, widow, one child and one eye. Goes out charing andwashing, by the day; never had more than one eye, but knows her motherdrank bottled stout, and shouldn't wonder if that caused it (immensecheering). Thinks it not impossible that if she had always abstainedfrom spirits, she might have had two eyes by this time (tremendousapplause). Used, at every place she went to, to have eighteenpence aday, a pint of porter, and a glass of spirits; but since she became amember of the Brick Lane Branch, has always demanded three and sixpenceinstead (the announcement of this most interesting fact was receivedwith deafening enthusiasm).

  "Henry Beller was for many years toast-master at various corporationdinners, during which time he drank a great deal of foreign wine; maysometimes have carried a bottle or two home with him; is not quitecertain of that, but is sure if he did, that he drank the contents.Feels very low and melancholy, is very feverish, and has a constantthirst upon him; thinks it must be the wine he used to drink (cheers).Is out of employ now: and never touches a drop of foreign wine by anychance (tremendous plaudits).

  "Thomas Burton is a purveyor of cats' meat to the Lord Mayor andSheriffs, and several members of the Common Council (the announcementof this gentleman's name was received with breathless interest). Hasa wooden leg; finds a wooden leg expensive, going over the stones;used to wear second-hand wooden legs, and drink a glass of hot gin andwater regularly every night--sometimes two (deep sighs). Found thesecond-hand wooden legs split and rot very quickly; is firmly persuadedthat their constitution was undermined by the gin and water (prolongedcheering). Buys new wooden legs now, and drinks nothing but water andweak tea. The new legs last twice as long as the others used to do, andhe attributes this solely to his temperate habits" (triumphant cheers).

  Anthony Humm now moved that the assembly do regale itself with a song.With a view to their rational and moral enjoyment, Brother Mordlinhad adapted the beautiful words of "Who hasn't heard of a Jolly YoungWaterman?" to the tune of the Old Hundredth which he would request themto join him in singing (great applause). He might take that opportunityof expressing his firm persuasion that the late Mr. Dibdin, seeing theerrors of his former life, had written that song to show the advantagesof abstinence. It was a temperance song (whirlwinds of cheers). Theneatness of the young man's attire, the dexterity of his feathering,the enviable state of mind which enabled him in the beautiful words ofthe poet, to

  "Row along, thinking of nothing at all,"

  all combined to prove that he must have been a water-drinker (cheers).Oh, what a state of virtuous jollity! (rapturous cheering). And whatwas the young man's reward? Let all young men present mark this:

  "The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily."

  (Loud cheers, in which the ladies joined.) What a bright example! Thesisterhood, the maidens, flocking round the young waterman, and urginghim along the stream of duty and of temperance. But, was it the maidensof humble life only, who soothed, consoled, and supported him? No!

  "He was always first oars with the fine city ladies."

  (Immense cheering.) The soft sex to a man--he begged pardon, to afemale--rallied round the young waterman, and turned with disgust fromthe drinker of spirits (cheers). The Brick Lane Branch brothers werewatermen (cheers and laughter). That room was their boat; that audiencewere the maidens; and he (Mr. Anthony Humm), however unworthily, was"first oars" (unbounded applause).

  "Wot does he mean by the soft sex, Sammy?" inquired Mr. Weller, in awhisper.

  "The womin," said Sam, in the same tone.

  "He ain't far out there, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller; "they _must_ be asoft sex,--a wery soft sex, indeed--if they let themselves be gammonedby such fellers as him."

  Any further observations from the indignant old gentleman were cutshort by the announcement of the song, which Mr. Anthony Humm gave out,two lines at a time, for the information of such of his hearers aswere unacquainted with the legend. While it was being sung, the littleman with the drab shorts disappeared; he returned immediately on itsconclusion, and whispered Mr. Anthony Humm, with a face of the deepestimportance.

  "My friends," said Mr. Humm, holding up his hand in a deprecatorymanner, to bespeak the silence of such of the stout old ladies as wereyet a line or two behind; "my friends, a delegate from the DorkingBranch of our Society, Brother Stiggins, attends below."

  Out came the pocket-handkerchiefs again, in greater force than ever;for Mr. Stiggins was excessively popular among the female constituencyof Brick Lane.

  "He may approach, I think," said Mr. Humm, looking round him, with afat smile. "Brother Tadger, let him come forth and greet us."

  The little man in drab shorts who answered to the name of BrotherTadger, bustled down the ladder with great speed, and was immediatelyafterwards heard tumbling up with the Reverend Mr. Stiggins.

  "He's a comin', Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, purple in the countenancewith suppressed laughter.

  "Don't say nothin' to me," replied Sam, "for I can't bear it. He'sclose to the door. I hear him a-knockin' his head again the lath andplaster now."

  As Sam Weller spoke, the little door flew open, and Brother Tadgerappeared, closely followed by the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, who no soonerentered, than there was a great clapping of hands, and stamping offeet, and flourishing of handkerchiefs; to all of which manifestationsof delight, Brother Stiggins returned no other acknowledgment thanstaring with a wild eye, and a fixed smile, at the extreme top ofthe wick of the candle on the table: swaying his body to and fro,meanwhile, in a very unsteady and uncertain manner.

  "Are you unwell, Brother Stiggins?" whispered Mr. Anthony Humm.

  "I am all right, sir," replied Mr. Stiggins, in a tone in whichferocity was blended with an extreme thickness of utterance; "I am allright, sir."

  "Oh, very well," rejoined Mr. Anthony Humm, retreating a few paces.

  "I believe no man here has ventured to say that I am _not_ all right,sir?" said Mr. Stiggins.

  "Oh, certainly not," said Mr. Humm.

  "I should advise him not to, sir; I should advise him no
t," said Mr.Stiggins.

  By this time the audience were perfectly silent, and waited with someanxiety for the resumption of business.

  "Will you address the meeting, brother?" said Mr. Humm, with a smile ofinvitation.

  "No, sir," rejoined Mr. Stiggins; "no, sir. I will not, sir."

  The meeting looked at each other with raised eyelids; and a murmur ofastonishment ran through the room.

  "It's my opinion, sir," said Mr. Stiggins, unbuttoning his coat,and speaking very loudly; "it's my opinion, sir, that this meetingis drunk, sir. Brother Tadger, sir!" said Mr. Stiggins, suddenlyincreasing in ferocity, and turning sharp round on the little man inthe drab shorts, "_you_ are drunk, sir!" With this, Mr. Stiggins,entertaining a praiseworthy desire to promote the sobriety of themeeting, and to exclude therefrom all improper characters, hit BrotherTadger on the summit of the nose with such unerring aim, that the drabshorts disappeared like a flash of lightning. Brother Tadger had beenknocked, head first, down the ladder.

  Upon this, the women set up a loud and dismal screaming; and rushing insmall parties before their favourite brothers, flung their arms aroundthem to preserve them from danger. An instance of affection which hadnearly proved fatal to Humm, who, being extremely popular, was all butsuffocated, by the crowd of female devotees that hung about his neck,and heaped caresses upon him. The greater part of the lights werequickly put out, and nothing but noise and confusion resounded on allsides.

  "Now, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, taking off his great-coat with muchdeliberation, "just you step out, and fetch in a watchman."

  "And wot are you a goin' to do, the while?" inquired Sam.

  "Never you mind me, Sammy," replied the old gentleman; "I shall ockipymyself in havin' a small settlement with that 'ere Stiggins." BeforeSam could interfere to prevent it, his heroic parent had penetratedinto a remote corner of the room, and attacked the Reverend Mr.Stiggins with manual dexterity.

  "Come off!" said Sam.

  "Come on!" cried Mr. Weller; and without further invitation he gave theReverend Mr. Stiggins a preliminary tap on the head, and began dancinground him in a buoyant and cork-like manner, which in a gentleman athis time of life was a perfect marvel to behold.

  Finding all remonstrance unavailing, Sam pulled his hat firmly on,threw his father's coat over his arm, and taking the old man round thewaist, forcibly dragged him down the ladder, and into the street; neverreleasing his hold, or permitting him to stop, until they reached thecorner. As they gained it, they could hear the shouts of the populace,who were witnessing the removal of the Reverend Mr. Stiggins to stronglodgings for the night: and could hear the noise occasioned by thedispersion in various directions of the members of the Brick LaneBranch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association.