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Having carefully packed his prize, its discovery and the happy meeting were duly celebrated in an evening of festivity and conversation. "It was past 11 o'clock a late hour for the little village of Cobham when Mr. Pickwick retired to the bedroom which had been prepared for his reception.
'Surely, replied Mr. Pickwick. 'Thank you, Sir, said Mary, tripping towards the door again. 'Sam has not been here long, has he? inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Oh, no, Sir, replied Mary eagerly. 'He has only just come home. He is not going to ask you for any more leave, Sir, he says.
Jackson seemed rather puzzled by Sam's proceedings; but, as he had served the subpoenas, and had nothing more to say, he made a feint of putting on the one glove which he usually carried in his hand, for the sake of appearances; and returned to the office to report progress. Mr. Pickwick slept little that night; his memory had received a very disagreeable refresher on the subject of Mrs.
'Never was such cards, said the fat gentleman. A solemn silence; Mr. Pickwick humorous, the old lady serious, the fat gentleman captious, and Mr. Miller timorous. 'Another double, said the old lady, triumphantly making a memorandum of the circumstance, by placing one sixpence and a battered halfpenny under the candlestick. 'A double, sir, said Mr. Pickwick.
Jingle smiled at this sally, but looked rather foolish notwithstanding; so Mr. Pickwick changed the subject by saying 'You don't happen to know, do you, what has become of another friend of yours a more humble one, whom I saw at Rochester? 'Dismal Jemmy? inquired Jingle. 'Yes. Jingle shook his head. 'Clever rascal queer fellow, hoaxing genius Job's brother. 'Job's brother! exclaimed Mr.
Pickwick had some idea of finding other quarters when he said he was "at present suspended" we do not know; at all events he made the tavern his London residence until, at the end of his adventures, he retired to Dulwich. Before, however, he settled down there, many incidents connected with his career took place within the walls of his favourite tavern.
It is called the "Pickwick Room," and this metamorphosis was carried out by a city business firm for the accommodation of its staff at lunch, and its good friendship toward them admirably reflects the Dickens spirit.
By degrees his attention grew more and more attracted by the objects around him; and at last he derived as much enjoyment from the ride, as if it had been undertaken for the pleasantest reason in the world. 'Delightful prospect, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. 'Beats the chimbley-pots, Sir, replied Mr. Weller, touching his hat.
Pickwick, with his portmanteau in his hand, his telescope in his greatcoat pocket, and his note-book in his waistcoat, ready for the reception of any discoveries worthy of being noted down, had arrived at the coach-stand in St. Martin's-le-Grand. 'Cab! said Mr. Pickwick.
It was there, on the 7th of May, 1837, that he lost, at the early age of seventeen, and quite suddenly, a sister-in-law, Mary Hogarth, to whom he was greatly attached. The blow fell so heavily at the time as to incapacitate him from all work, and delayed the publication of one of the numbers of "Pickwick." Nor was the sorrow only sharp and transient.
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