vhen I gets on this here grievance, I runs on like a new barrow vith the vheel greased."

To Sam appeared Mr. Perker, a lawyer of Gray's Inn, with Pickwick and Wardle, the three being on the search for Jingle. Sam showed them the way, and they came upon Miss Wardle, just as her Jingle returned. A violent scene followed, which was brought to an end by the diplomacy of the lawyer, who succeeded in getting rid of Jingle by the payment of a round sum out of the pocket of Mr. Wardle; whereupon Wardle, Pickwick, and the disconsolate Rachael returned to Dingley Dell.

Tracy Tupman could not bear his bitter disappointment,

XI and so stole away from Dingley Dell, but left behind him tolerably clear advice as to his whereabouts. So Pickwick and his two companions also took leave openly, and followed Tupman to his retreat at the Leather Bottle, Cobham, Kent. It was here that Pickwick made his notable antiquarian discovery, which caused a great sensation in the Pickwick Club when it was disclosed and discussed; for the party all returned now for a short stay in London.

Mr. Pickwick's lodgings were with a certain widow, Mrs. XII Bardell, and he had conceived the idea that he could greatly increase his comfort by attaching to himself a body servant. Remembering Sam Weller, the boots of the White Hart, he satisfied himself that Sam was the man for him, and despatched a message to him by Mrs. Bardell's small son. While the little boy was gone, he broached the matter to Mrs. Bardell, but so circumspectly that before he could make his meaning absolutely clear, Mrs. Bardell had misinterpreted her lodger's meaning into a proposal of marriage. In her agitation, she fell on Mr. Pickwick's neck and fainted. It was a most inopportune moment, for just then the door opened, and Master Bardell, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle entered, to the embarrassment of the last three. After them came shortly Sam Weller, and arrangements were satisfactorily made, by which he became Mr. Pickwick's man servant.

XIII

The next journey of the Pickwickians was to Eatanswill, whither they had been invited by Mr. Perker, the agent of one of the candidates in an approaching parliamentary election. They found the town torn in two by the opposing parties, with their candidates and their party papers, the Gazette and the Independent. Mr. Pott was the editor of the Gazette, the organ of Mr. Perker's candidate, and acted as host to the Pickwickians, who found themselves involved in the fine fury of an election contest.

XIV

All of the Pickwick party could not be housed at Mr. Pott's, and they made their headquarters at the Peacock,

XV

where they listened to the Bagman's story; but the next day they were the attendants upon a reception given by Mrs. Leo Hunter, whither they went in costume, - Mr. Tupman as a brigand, Mr. Snodgrass as a troubadour, Mr. Winkle as a sportsman, or possibly postman, and Mr. Pickwick in his own classic gaiters and spectacles. Here, to their amazement, they encountered the irrepressible Jingle, figuring as Mr. Charles Fitz Marshall. Jingle, not quite ready for explanation, disappeared, and Pickwick, full of moral ardor, set off for his last known abiding-place, Bury St. Edmunds, accompanied by Sam.

XVI

At the Angel in Bury, Sam managed to fall in with Jingle's servant, one Job Trotter, and to extract from him the information that his master was that night to elope with a young lady from a neighboring boarding-school. Mr. Pickwick at once resolved to thwart this nefarious design, and proceeded in the dark of night to the spot, to act as a private detective. Unhappily, he was found, and not Alfred Jingle, and was released by the incensed mistress of the boarding-school only when Mr. Wardle, who was known to her, turned up and vouched for his friend. The wrath of Mr. Pickwick and Sam when they found they had been cozened by Jingle and Job was profound.

XVII

XVIII

Mr. Pickwick had an attack of rheumatism in consequence of this adventure, and amused himself with editing a story of Sam's entitled The Parish Clerk. He wished his companions to rejoin him, and they came accordingly, but not without first undergoing some mortification of their own, due to Mr. Pott's green jealousy. All these mishaps, however, were thrown into the shade by the reception of a missive addressed to Mr. Pickwick by Messrs. Dodson & Fogg of London, attorneys, in behalf of Mrs. Martha Bardell, who brought an action for breach of promise.

Such serious business could not interfere with pleasure, so XIX the next day they all went off to a shooting-party. Mr. Pickwick, however, was so stiff with rheumatism, that he could not have gone, except by a happy thought which produced a wheelbarrow and made that his vehicle, with Sam to wheel it.

The gamekeeper having been coaxed and feed, and having, moreover, eased his mind by "punching" the head of the inventive youth who had first suggested the use of the machine, Mr. Pickwick was placed in it, and off the party set,- Wardle and the long gamekeeper leading the way; and Mr. Pickwick in the barrow, propelled by Sam, bringing up the rear.

66

Stop, Sam!" said Mr. Pickwick, when they had got half across the first field.

"What's the matter now?" said Wardle.

"I won't suffer this barrow to be moved another step," said Mr. Pickwick resolutely, "unless Winkle carries that gun of his in a different manner."

"How am I to carry it?" said the wretched Winkle.

"Carry it with the muzzle of it to the ground," replied Mr. Pickwick.

"It's so unsportsman-like," reasoned Winkle.

"I don't care whether it's unsportsman-like, or not," replied Mr. Pickwick. "I am not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, for the sake of appearances, to please anybody."

"I know the gentleman'll put that 'ere charge into somebody afore he 's done," growled the long man.

"Well, well, I don't mind," said poor Winkle, turning his gunstock uppermost: "there!"

"Any thin' for a quiet life," said Mr. Weller; and on they went again.

"Stop!" said Mr. Pickwick after they had gone a few yards farther.

"What now?" said Wardle.

"That gun of Tupman's is not safe: I know it is n't!" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Eh? What! not safe?" said Mr. Tupman in a tone of great alarm.

"Not as you are carrying it," said Mr. Pickwick. "I am very sorry to make any further objections; but I cannot consent to go on unless you carry it as Winkle does his."

66

or

"I think you had better, sir," said the long gamekeeper, you're quite as likely to lodge the charge into your own vestcoat as in anybody else's."

Mr. Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece in the position required, and the party moved on again; the two amateurs marching with reversed arms, like a couple of privates at a royal funeral.

The dogs came suddenly to a dead stop; and the party, advancing stealthily a single pace, stopped too.

"What's the matter with the dogs' legs?" whispered Mr. Winkle. "How queer they're standing!"

"Hush! can't you?" replied Wardle softly. "Don't you see they're making a point?"

66

Making a point!" said Mr. Winkle, staring about him, as if he expected to discover some particular beauty in the landscape, which the sagacious animals were calling special attention to, "making a point! What are they pointing at?"

66

Keep your eyes open," said Wardle, not heeding the question in the excitement of the moment. 66 Now, then!"

There was a sharp whirring noise, that made Mr. Winkle start back as if he had been shot himself. Bang, bang, went a couple of guns. The smoke swept quickly away over the field, and curled into the air.

1

"Where are they?" said Mr. Winkle in a state of the highest excitement, turning round and round in all directions, "where are they? Tell me when to fire. Where are they? where are they?"

"Where are they?" said Wardle, taking up a brace of birds which the dogs had deposited at his feet, "where are they? Why, here they are."

"No, no! I mean the others," said the bewildered Winkle.

"Far enough off by this time," replied Wardle, coolly reloading

his gun.

"We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes," said the long gamekeeper. "If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he 'll just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise."

66

66

Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Weller.

Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion and embarrassment.

"Sir."

“Don't laugh.”

66

Certainly not, sir." So, by way of indemnification, Mr. Weller contorted his features from behind the wheelbarrow, for the exclusive amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon burst into a boisterous laugh, and was summarily cuffed by the long gamekeeper, who wanted a pretext for turning round to hide his own merriment.

66

Bravo, old fellow!" said Wardle to Mr. Tupman: "you fired that time, at all events."

"Oh, yes!" replied Mr. Tupman with conscious pride. "I let it off."

"Well done. You'll hit something next time if you look sharp. Very easy; ain't it?”

"Yes, it's very easy," said Mr. Tupman. "How it hurts one's shoulder, though! It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea these small fire-arms kicked so.".

"Ah!" said the old gentleman, smiling. "You'll get used to it in time. Now, then-all ready, all right with the barrow there?"

"All right, sir,” replied Mr. Weller.

"Come along, then."

"Hold hard, sir," said Sam, raising the barrow.

66

Ay, ay!" replied Mr. Pickwick; and on they went as briskly as need be.

66

Keep that barrow back, now," cried Wardle, when it had been hoisted over a stile into another field, and Mr. Pickwick had been deposited in it once more.

"All right, sir,” replied Mr. Weller, pausing.

"Now, Winkle," said the old gentleman, "follow me softly, and don't be too late this time."

"Are they pointing?"

"Never fear," said Mr. Winkle. "No, no! not now. Quietly now, quietly." On they crept, and very quietly they would have advanced, if Mr. Winkle, in the performance of some very intricate evolutions with his gun, had not accidentally fired, at the most critical moment, over the boy's head, exactly in the very spot where the tall man's brain would have been, had he been there instead.

"Why, what on earth did you do that for?" said old Wardle, as the birds flew unharmed away.

"I never saw such a gun in my life!" replied poor Winkle, looking at the lock, as if that would do any good. "It goes off of its own accord. It will do it."

"Will do it!"

echoed Wardle, with something of irritation in his manner. "I wish it would kill something of its own

accord."

"It'll do that afore long, sir," observed the tall man in a low, prophetic voice.

"What do you mean by that observation, sir?" inquired Mr. Winkle angrily.

"Never mind, sir, never mind," replied the long gamekeeper. "I've no family myself, sir; and this here boy's mother will get something handsome from Sir Geoffrey, if he's killed on his land. Load again, sir; load again."

"Take away his gun!" cried Mr. Pickwick from the barrow, horror-stricken at the long man's dark insinuations. "Take away his gun! do you hear, somebody?"

Nobody, however, volunteered to obey the command; and Mr. Winkle, after darting a rebellious glance at Mr. Pickwick, reloaded his gun, and proceeded onwards with the rest.

We are bound, on the authority of Mr. Pickwick, to state that Mr. Tupman's mode of proceeding evinced far more of prudence and deliberation than that adopted by Mr. Winkle.

With the quickness and penetration of a man of genius, he had at once observed that the two great points to be attained, were first to discharge his piece without injury to himself, and, secondly, to do so without danger to the bystanders. Obviously the