He furthermore conjured him to avoid, above all things, the vice of intoxication, which he likened unto the filthy habits of swine, and to those poisonous and baleful drugs which being chewed in the mouth, are said to filch away the memory.At this point of his discourse, the reverend and red-nosed gentleman became singularly incoherent, and staggering to and fro in the excitement of his eloquence, was fain to catch at the back of a chair to preserve his perpendicular.
Mr.Stiggins did not desire his hearers to be upon their guard against those false prophets and wretched mockers of religion, who, without sense to expound its first doctrines, or hearts to feel its first principles, are more dangerous members of society than the common criminal; imposing, as they necessarily do, upon the weakest and worst informed, casting scorn and contempt on what should be held most sacred, and bringing into partial disrepute large bodies of virtuous and well-conducted persons of many excellent sects and persuasions.But as he leant over the back of the chair for a considerable time, and closing one eye, winked a good deal with the other, it is presumed that he thought all this, but kept it to himself.
During the delivery of the oration, Mrs.Weller sobbed and wept at the end of the paragraphs: while Sam, sitting cross-legged on a chair and resting his arms on the top-rail, regarded the speaker with great suavity and blandness of demeanour; occasionally bestowing a look of recognition on the old gentleman, who was delighted at the beginning, and went to sleep about half-way.
"Brayvo; wery pretty!" said Sam, when the red-nosed man having finished, pulled his worn gloves on: thereby thrusting his fingers through the broken tops till the knuckles were disclosed to view."Wery pretty.""I hope it may do you good, Samuel," said Mrs.Weller solemnly.
"I think it vill, mum," replied Sam.
"I wish I could hope that it would do your father good," said Mrs.Weller.
"Thank'ee, my dear," said Mr.Weller, senior."How do you find yourself arter it, my love?""Scoffer!" exclaimed Mrs.Weller.
"Benighted man!" said the reverend Mr.Stiggins.
"If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o' yourn, my worthy creetur," said the elder Mr.Weller, "it's wery likely as I shall continey to be a night coach till I'm took off the road altogether.Now, Mrs.We, if the piebald stands at livery much longer, he'll stand at nothin'
as we go back, and p'raps that 'ere harm cheer 'ull be tipped over into some hedge or another, with the shepherd in it."At this supposition, the reverend Mr.Stiggins, in evident consternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella, and proposed an immediate departure, to which Mrs.Weller assented.Sam walked with them to the lodge-gate, and took a dutiful leave.
"A-do, Samivel," said the old gentleman.
"Wot's a-do?" inquired Sammy.
"Well, good-bye, then," said the old gentleman.
"Oh, that's wot you're a aimin' at, is it?" said Sam."Good-bye!""Sammy," whispered Mr.Weller, looking cautiously round; "my duty to your gov'ner, and tell him if he thinks better o' this here bis'ness, to commoonicate vith me.Me and a cab'net-maker has dewised a plan for gettin'
him out.A pianner, Samivel, a pianner!" said Mr.Weller, striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand, and falling back a step or two.
"Wot do you mean?" said Sam.
"A pianner forty, Samivel," rejoined Mr.Weller, in a still more mysterious manner, "as he can have on hire; vun as von't play, Sammy.""And wot'ud be the good o' that?" said Sam.
"Let him send to my friend, the cab'net-maker, to fetch it back, Sammy,"replied Mr.Weller."Are you avake, now?""No," rejoined Sam.
"There ain't no vurks in it," whispered his father."It 'ull hold him easy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs, vich his holler.Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker.The 'Merrikin gov'ment will never give him up, ven they find as he's got money to spend, Sammy.
Let the gov'ner stop there, till Mrs.Bardell's dead, or Mr.Dodson and Fogg's hung (wich last ewent I think is the most likely to happen first, Sammy), and then let him come back and write a book about the 'Merrikins as'll pay all his expenses and more, if he blows 'em up enough."Mr.Weller delivered this hurried abstract of his plot with great vehemence of whisper; then, as if fearful of weakening the effect of the tremendous communication, by any further dialogue, he gave the coachman's salute, and vanished.
Sam had scarcely recovered his usual composure of countenance, which had been greatly disturbed by the secret communication of his respected relative, when Mr.Pickwick accosted him.
"Sam," said that gentleman.
"Sir," replied Mr.Weller.
"I am going for a walk round the prison, and I wish you to attend me.
I see a prisoner we know coming this way, Sam," said Mr.Pickwick, smiling.
"Wich, sir?" inquired Mr.Weller; "the gen'l'm'n vith the head o' hair, or the interestin' captive in the stockin's?""Neither," rejoined Mr.Pickwick."He is an older friend of yours, Sam.""O' mine, sir?" exclaimed Mr.Weller.
"You recollect the gentleman very well, I daresay, Sam," replied Mr.
Pickwick, "or else you are more unmindful of your old acquaintances than I think you are.Hush! not a word, Sam; not a syllable.Here he is."As Mr.Pickwick spoke, Jingle walked up.He looked less miserable than before, being clad in a half-worn suit of clothes, which, with Mr.Pickwick's assistance, had been released from the pawnbroker's.He wore clean linen too, and had had his hair cut.He was very pale and thin, however; and as he crept slowly up, leaning on a stick, it was easy to see that he had suffered severely from illness and want, and was still very weak.He took off his hat as Mr.Pickwick saluted him, and seemed much humbled and abashed at sight of Sam Weller.
