LIX Mr. Jingle tells a traveller's tale "UP with you," said the stranger, assisting Mr. Pickwick on to the roof with so much precipitation as to impair the gravity of that gentleman's deportment very materially. 66 66 Any baggage, sir?" inquired the coachman. "Who-I? Brown paper parcel here, that's all-other luggage gone by water,-packing cases, nailed up—big as houses-heavy, heavy, damned heavy," replied the stranger, as he forced into his pocket as much as he could of the brown paper parcel, which presented most suspicious indications of containing one shirt and a handkerchief. "Heads, heads-take care of your heads!" cried the loquacious stranger, as they came out under the low archway, which in those days formed the entrance to the coachyard. "Terrible place -dangerous work-other day-five childrenmother-tall lady, eating sandwiches-forgot the arch-crash-knock-children look roundmother's head off-sandwich in her hand—no mouth to put it in—head of a family off—shocking, shocking! Looking at Whitehall, sir? — fine place little window-somebody else's head off there, eh, sir?--he didn't keep a sharp look-out enough either-eh, sir, eh?" 66 “I am ruminating," said Mr. Pickwick, “on the strange mutability of human affairs." 66 Ah! I see-in at the palace door one day, out at the window the next. Philosopher, sir?" "An observer of human nature, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 66 Ah, so am I. Most people are when they 've little to do and less to get. Poet, sir?" 66 "My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn," said Mr. Pickwick. "So have I," said the stranger. "Epic poem,ten thousand lines-revolution of July-composed it on the spot-Mars by day, Apollo by night,bang the field-piece, twang the lyre. "You were present at that glorious scene, sir?" said Mr. Snodgrass. "Present! think I was; fired a musket,fired with an idea,-rushed into wine shop-wrote it down-back again-whiz, bang-another idea -wine shop again-pen and ink-back again— cut and slash-noble time, sir. Sportsman, sir?" abruptly turning to Mr. Winkle. 66 66 A little, sir," replied that gentleman. Fine pursuit, sir—fine pursuit.—Dogs, sir? "Not just now," said Mr. Winkle. "Ah! you should keep dogs-fine animals— sagacious creatures-dog of my own once-Pointer -surprising instinct-out shooting one dayentering enclosure-whistled — dog stopped whistled again-Ponto-no go; stock still-called him-Ponto, Ponto-wouldn't move-dog transfixed-staring at a board-looked up, saw an inscription-Gamekeeper has orders to shoot all dogs found in this enclosure '-wouldn't pass itwonderful dog-valuable dog that-very. "Singular circumstance that," said Mr. Pickwick. Will you allow me to make a note of it?" 66 66 Certainly, sir, certainly-hundred more anecdotes of the same animal.—Fine girl, sir (to Mr. Tracy Tupman, who had been bestowing sundry anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the roadside). "Very!" said Mr. Tupman. 66 English girls not so fine as Spanish-noble creatures-jet hair-black eyes-lovely forms— sweet creatures-beautiful." "You have been in Spain, sir?" said Mr. Tracy Tupman. "Lived there-ages." "Many conquests, sir?" inquired Mr. Tup man. 66 Conquests! Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizzgig-Grandee—only daughter-Donna Christina -splendid creature-loved me to distractionjealous father-high-souled daughter-handsome Englishman-Donna Christina in despair-prussic acid-stomach pump in my portmanteau-operation performed-old Bolaro in ecstasies-consent to our union-join hands and floods of tearsromantic story-very." "Is the lady in England now, sir?" inquired Mr. Tupman, on whom the description of her charms had produced a powerful impression. 66 'Dead, sir-dead," said the stranger, applying to his right eye the brief remnant of a very old cambric handkerchief. "Never recovered the stomach pump-undermined constitution-fell a victim." 66 grass. And her father?" inquired the poetic Snod 66 Remorse and misery," replied the stranger. "Sudden disappearance-talk of the whole city— search made everywhere-without success-public fountain in the great square suddenly ceased playing -weeks elapsed-still a stoppage-workmen employed to clean it-water drawn off-father-inlaw discovered sticking head first in the main pipe, with a full confession in his right boot—took him out, and the fountain played away again, as well as ever." 66 66 Will you allow me to note that little romance down, sir," said Mr. Snodgrass, deeply affected. Certainly, sir, certainly,-fifty more if you like to hear 'em-strange life mine-rather curious history—not extraordinary, but singular." 66 LX The Wellers on oysters, pickled salmon UMP up in front, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. 6 Take care o the archway, gen'l'm'n. 'Heads,' as the pieman says. That'll do, Villam. do, Villam. Let 'em alone." And away went the coach up Whitechapel, to the admiration of the whole population of that prettydensely populated quarter. "Not a very nice neighbourhood this, sir," said Sam, with a touch of the hat, which always preceded his entering into conversation with his master. 66 'It is not indeed, Sam," replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the crowded and filthy street through which they were passing. "It's a very remarkable circumstance, sir," said Sam," that poverty and oysters always seem to go together." 66 I don't understand you, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 66 What I mean, sir," said Sam, “is that the poorer a place is, the greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look here, sir; here's a oyster stall to every half-dozen houses. The street's lined with 'em. Blessed if I don't think that ven a man's wery poor, he rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters in reg'lar desperation." "To be sure he does," said Mr. Weller senior ; "and it's just the same with pickled salmon !" "Those are two very remarkable facts, which never occurred to me before," said Mr. Pickwick. 66 The very first place we stop at, I'll make a note of them." By this time they had reached the turnpike at Mile End ; a profound silence prevailed until they had got two or three miles further on, when Mr. Weller senior, turning suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, said: 66 66 Wery queer life is a pike-keeper's, sir." A what?" said Mr. Pickwick. "A pike-keeper." "What do you mean by a pike-keeper?" inquired Mr. Peter Magnus. "The old 'un means a turnpike keeper, gen'l'm'n," observed Mr. Samuel Weller, in explanation. 66 Oh," said Mr. Pickwick, "I see. curious life. Very uncomfortable.” Yes, very |