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Updated: May 18, 2025
Tomkins, the brewer, who suddenly closed up the footway called Randall's Alley, declaring that there was no right of passage through a certain field at the back of his brewery. Not only the school, but the town was indignant, and the Mays especially so.
In the middle of these wild rants, Tomkins twice or thrice suddenly ran into religious topics, and spoke mysteriously, but with great animation, and a rich eloquence, on the happy and pre-eminent saints, who were saints, as he termed them, indeed Men who had stormed the inner treasure-house of Heaven, and possessed themselves of its choicest jewels.
To which jeu d'esprit Mr Drummond answered with a pencil on a card "Mr and Mrs Drum- Mond intend to come." "Here, give Tomkins that, Jacob; it will please him better than any formal acceptation." Mr and Mrs Turnbull were also asked; the former accepted, but the latter indignantly refused.
It might have been Mr. By them it was proposed, as a test of Mr. Pickwick's sincerity, that he should immediately submit to personal restraint; and that gentleman having consented to hold a conference with Miss Tomkins, from the interior of a closet in which the day boarders hung their bonnets and sandwich-bags, he at once stepped into it, of his own accord, and was securely locked in.
You'll dance upon nothing one day, Tomkins! Here! Halloo! Mary! Susan! Janet! William! Hey! Halloo!" And he began to shout and blaspheme. "Don't you think it's time for bed, Mr. Richard?" one of the men ventured to suggest. "No!" roared the ex-convict, emphatically, "I don't! I've gone to bed at daylight far too long. We'll have 'luminashon! I'm master here. Master everything.
He was still engaged at this task when Mr. Tomkins came to call. "A fine evening," said Mr. Tomkins from the doorway. "Come in, William," cried Mr. Jeminy, "come in. A fine evening, indeed. Well, this is very nice, I must say." Mr. Tomkins was older than Mr. Jeminy.
See August 9th. But before they would come to the question whether they would adjourn, Sir Thomas Tomkins steps up and tells them, that all the country is grieved at this new raised standing army; and that they thought themselves safe enough in their trayn-bands; and that, therefore, he desired the King might be moved to disband them.
"You'll keep the middle watch, then, Mr Smith," said Mr Appleboy, who was not a little put out; "and, Mr Tomkins, let me know as soon as it's daylight. Boy, get my bed made. Salt-water, by all that's blue! However, we'll see to that to-morrow morning."
Are authors affected by their own works? I don't know about other gentlemen, but if I make a joke myself I cry; if I write a pathetic scene I am laughing wildly all the time at least Tomkins thinks so. You know I am such a cynic! But for this veto I should gladly have prattled over half a sheet more, and have discoursed on many heroes and heroines of novels whom fond memory brings back to me.
Time to shingle old man Crabbe's roof again. I'm spry yet." And resting a lean finger alongside his nose, he gave sound to a laugh like a peal of broken bells. In his old age Mr. Tomkins was still agile; he crawled out on a roof, ripped up rotted shingles, and put down new ones in their place. To see him climb to the top of a ladder, filled Mr. Jeminy with anxiety.
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