A to Z Classics - Charles Dickens - The Complete Novels (Best Navigation, Active TOC) (A to Z Classics)

‘Not a bit on it, mum,’ replied Sam.—‘Is it, shepherd?’

Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, until the whites—or rather the yellows—were alone visible; but made no reply in words.

‘Is this here gen’l’m’n troubled with any painful complaint?’ said Sam, looking to his mother–in–law for explanation.

‘The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel,’ replied Mrs. Weller.

‘Oh, that’s it, is it?’ said Sam. ‘I was afeerd, from his manner, that he might ha’ forgotten to take pepper vith that ‘ere last cowcumber he eat. Set down, Sir, ve make no extra charge for settin’ down, as the king remarked wen he blowed up his ministers.’

‘Young man,’ said Mr. Stiggins ostentatiously, ‘I fear you are not softened by imprisonment.’

‘Beg your pardon, Sir,’ replied Sam; ‘wot wos you graciously pleased to hobserve?’

‘I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for this chastening,’ said Mr. Stiggins, in a loud voice.

‘Sir,’ replied Sam, ‘you’re wery kind to say so. I hope my natur is not a soft vun, Sir. Wery much obliged to you for your good opinion, Sir.’

At this point of the conversation, a sound, indecorously approaching to a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the elder Mr. Weller was seated; upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty consideration of all the circumstances of the case, considered it her bounden duty to become gradually hysterical.

‘Weller,’ said Mrs. W. (the old gentleman was seated in a corner); ‘Weller! Come forth.’

‘Wery much obleeged to you, my dear,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘but I’m quite comfortable vere I am.’

Upon this, Mrs. Weller burst into tears.

‘Wot’s gone wrong, mum?’ said Sam.

‘Oh, Samuel!’ replied Mrs. Weller, ‘your father makes me wretched. Will nothing do him good?’

‘Do you hear this here?’ said Sam. ‘Lady vants to know vether nothin’ ’ull do you good.’

‘Wery much indebted to Mrs. Weller for her po–lite inquiries, Sammy,’ replied the old gentleman. ‘I think a pipe vould benefit me a good deal. Could I be accommodated, Sammy?’

Here Mrs. Weller let fall some more tears, and Mr. Stiggins groaned.

‘Hollo! Here’s this unfortunate gen’l’m’n took ill agin,’ said Sam, looking round. ‘Vere do you feel it now, sir?’

‘In the same place, young man,’ rejoined Mr. Stiggins, ‘in the same place.’

‘Vere may that be, Sir?’ inquired Sam, with great outward simplicity.

‘In the buzzim, young man,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his umbrella on his waistcoat.

At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to suppress her feelings, sobbed aloud, and stated her conviction that the red–nosed man was a saint; whereupon Mr. Weller, senior, ventured to suggest, in an undertone, that he must be the representative of the united parishes of St. Simon Without and St. Walker Within.

‘I’m afeered, mum,’ said Sam, ‘that this here gen’l’m’n, with the twist in his countenance, feels rather thirsty, with the melancholy spectacle afore him. Is it the case, mum?’

The worthy lady looked at Mr. Stiggins for a reply; that gentleman, with many rollings of the eye, clenched his throat with his right hand, and mimicked the act of swallowing, to intimate that he was athirst.

‘I am afraid, Samuel, that his feelings have made him so indeed,’ said Mrs. Weller mournfully.

‘Wot’s your usual tap, sir?’ replied Sam.

‘Oh, my dear young friend,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, ‘all taps is vanities!’

‘Too true, too true, indeed,’ said Mrs. Weller, murmuring a groan, and shaking her head assentingly.

‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘I des–say they may be, sir; but wich is your partickler wanity? Wich wanity do you like the flavour on best, sir?’

‘Oh, my dear young friend,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, ‘I despise them all. If,’ said Mr. Stiggins—‘if there is any one of them less odious than another, it is the liquor called rum. Warm, my dear young friend, with three lumps of sugar to the tumbler.’

‘Wery sorry to say, sir,’ said Sam, ‘that they don’t allow that particular wanity to be sold in this here establishment.’

‘Oh, the hardness of heart of these inveterate men!’ ejaculated Mr. Stiggins. ‘Oh, the accursed cruelty of these inhuman persecutors!’

With these words, Mr. Stiggins again cast up his eyes, and rapped his breast with his umbrella; and it is but justice to the reverend gentleman to say, that his indignation appeared very real and unfeigned indeed.

After Mrs. Weller and the red–nosed gentleman had commented on this inhuman usage in a very forcible manner, and had vented a variety of pious and holy execrations against its authors, the latter recommended a bottle of port wine, warmed with a little water, spice, and sugar, as being grateful to the stomach, and savouring less of vanity than many other compounds. It was accordingly ordered to be prepared, and pending its preparation the red–nosed man and Mrs. Weller looked at the elder W. and groaned.

‘Well, Sammy,’ said the gentleman, ‘I hope you’ll find your spirits rose by this here lively wisit. Wery cheerful and improvin’ conwersation, ain’t it, Sammy?’

‘You’re a reprobate,’ replied Sam; ‘and I desire you won’t address no more o’ them ungraceful remarks to me.’

So far from being edified by this very proper reply, the elder Mr. Weller at once relapsed into a broad grin; and this inexorable conduct causing the lady and Mr. Stiggins to close their eyes, and rock themselves to and fro on their chairs, in a troubled manner, he furthermore indulged in several acts of pantomime, indicative of a desire to pummel and wring the nose of the aforesaid Stiggins, the performance of which, appeared to afford him great mental relief. The old gentleman very narrowly escaped detection in one instance; for Mr. Stiggins happening to give a start on the arrival of the negus, brought his head in smart contact with the clenched fist with which Mr. Weller had been describing imaginary fireworks in the air, within two inches of his ear, for some minutes.

‘Wot are you a–reachin’ out, your hand for the tumbler in that ‘ere sawage way for?’ said Sam, with great promptitude. ‘Don’t you see you’ve hit the gen’l’m’n?’

‘I didn’t go to do it, Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, in some degree abashed by the very unexpected occurrence of the incident.

‘Try an in’ard application, sir,’ said Sam, as the red–nosed gentleman rubbed his head with a rueful visage. ‘Wot do you think o’ that, for a go o’ wanity, warm, Sir?’

Mr. Stiggins made no verbal answer, but his manner was expressive. He tasted the contents of the glass which Sam had placed in his hand, put his umbrella on the floor, and tasted it again, passing his hand placidly across his stomach twice or thrice; he then drank the whole at a breath, and smacking his lips, held out the tumbler for more.

Nor was Mrs. Weller behind–hand in doing justice to the composition. The good lady began by protesting that she couldn’t touch a drop—then took a small drop—then a large drop—then a great many drops; and her feelings being of the nature of those substances which are powerfully affected by the application of strong waters, she dropped a tear with every drop of negus, and so got on, melting the feelings down, until at length she had arrived at a very pathetic and decent pitch of misery.

The elder Mr. Weller observed these signs and tokens with many manifestations of disgust, and when, after a second jug of the same, Mr. Stiggins began to sigh in a dismal manner, he plainly evinced his disapprobation of the whole proceedings, by sundry incoherent ramblings of speech, among which frequent angry repetitions of the word ‘gammon’ were alone distinguishable to the ear.