"Oh, nonsense, don't talk to me," said Mrs.Pott."Do you play ecarte , sir?""I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition," replied Mr.Winkle.
"Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let me get out of hearing of those prosy politics.""Jane," said Mr.Pott, to the servant who brought in candles, "go down into the office, and bring me up the file of the Gazette for Eighteen Hundred and Twenty Eight.I'll read you--" added the editor, turning to Mr.Pickwick, "I'll just read you a few of the leaders I wrote at that time upon the Buff job of appointing a new tollman to the turnpike here; I rather think they'll amuse you." "I should like to hear them very much, indeed," said Mr.Pickwick."Up came the file, and down sat the editor, with Mr.Pickwick at his side.
We have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr.Pickwick's note-book, in the hope of meeting with a general summary of these beautiful compositions.
We have every reason to believe that he was perfectly enraptured with the vigour and freshness of the style; indeed Mr.Winkle has recorded the fact that his eyes were closed, as if with excess of pleasure, during the whole time of their perusal.
The announcement of supper put a stop to the game at ecarte , and the recapitulation of the beauties of the Eatanswill Gazette.Mrs.
Pott was in the highest spirits and the most agreeable humour.Mr.Winkle had already made considerable progress in her good opinion, and she did not hesitate to inform him, confidentially, that Mr.Pickwick was "a delightful old dear." These terms convey a familiarity of expression, in which few of those who were intimately acquainted with that colossal-minded man, would have presumed to indulge.We have preserved them, nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and a convincing proof of the estimation in which he was held by every class of society, and the ease with which he made his way to their hearts and feelings.
It was a late hour of the night--long after Mr.Tupman and Mr.Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the Peacock--when the two friends retired to rest.Slumber soon fell upon the senses of Mr.Winkle, but his feelings had been excited, and his admiration roused; and for many hours after sleep had rendered him insensible to earthly objects, the face and figure of the agreeable Mrs.Pott presented themselves again and again to his wandering imagination.
The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning, were sufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence, any associations but those which were immediately connected with the rapidly-approaching election.The beating of drums, the blowing of horns and trumpets, the shouting of men, and tramping of horses, echoed and re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of day; and an occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either party at once enlivened the preparations and agreeably diversified their character.
"Well, Sam," said Mr.Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bed-room door, just as he was concluding his toilet; "all alive to-day, I suppose?""Reg'lar game, sir," replied Mr.Weller; "our people's a col-lecting down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves hoarse already.""Ah," said Mr.Pickwick, "do they seem devoted to their party, Sam?""Never see such dewotion in my life, sir.""Energetic, eh?" said Mr.Pickwick.
"Uncommon," replied Sam; "I never see men eat and drink so much afore.
I wonder they a'nt afeer'd o'bustin'."
"That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here," said Mr.Pickwick.
"Wery likely," replied Sam, briefly.
"Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr.Pickwick, glancing from the window.
"Wery fresh," replied Sam; "me, and the two waiters at the Peacock, has been a pumpin' over the independent woters as supped there last night.""Pumping over independent voters!" exclaimed Mr.Pickwick.
"Yes," said his attendant, "every man slept vere he fell down; we dragged 'em out, one by one, this mornin', and put 'em under the pump, and they're in reg'lar fine order, now.Shillin' a head the committee paid for that 'ere job.""Can such things be!" exclaimed the astonished Mr.Pickwick.
"Lord bless your heart, sir," said Sam, "why where was you half baptised?--that's nothin', that a'nt.""Nothing?" said Mr.Pickwick.
"Nothin'at all, sir," replied his attendant."The night afore the last day o' the last election here, the opposite party bribed the bar-maid at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled electors as was a stoppin' in the house.""What do you mean by `hocussing' brandy and water?" inquired Mr.Pickwick.
"Puttin' laud'num in it," replied Sam."Blessed if she did'nt send 'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over.They took one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experiment, but it was no go--they wouldn't poll him; so they brought him back, and put him to bed again.""Strange practices, these," said Mr.Pickwick; half speaking to himself and half addressing Sam.
"Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an election time, in this werry place, sir," replied Sam.
"What was that?" inquired Mr.Pickwick.
"Why he drove a coach down here once," said Sam; "'lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London.Night afore he was a going to drive up, committee on t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in;--large room--lots of gen'l'm'n--heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere.