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Updated: June 16, 2025
Pickwick's hand, with an expression of face in which deep and mighty resolve was fearfully blended with the very concentrated essence of gloom. 'Good-night, my dear Sir! said Mr. Winkle between his set teeth. 'Bless you, my dear fellow! replied the warm-hearted Mr. Pickwick, as he returned the pressure of his young friend's hand. 'Now then! cried Mr. Tupman from the gallery.
'Don't be frightened, said the host. 'What's the matter? screamed the ladies. 'Mr. Tupman has met with a little accident; that's all. The spinster aunt uttered a piercing scream, burst into an hysteric laugh, and fell backwards in the arms of her nieces. 'Throw some cold water over her, said the old gentleman. 'No, no, murmured the spinster aunt; 'I am better now. Bella, Emily a surgeon!
Leo Hunter, starting up, in an affected rapture of surprise. 'Here, said Mr. Pickwick. 'Is it possible that I have really the gratification of beholding Mr. Pickwick himself! ejaculated Mrs. Leo Hunter. 'No other, ma'am, replied Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low. 'Permit me to introduce my friends Mr. Tupman Mr. Winkle Mr.
'What names, sir? said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tupman was stepping forward to announce his own titles, when the stranger prevented him. 'No names at all; and then he whispered Mr.
Till then, good-bye! Remonstrances were useless. Mr. Pickwick was roused, and his mind was made up. Mr. Tupman returned to his companions; and in another hour had drowned all present recollection of Mr. Alfred Jingle, or Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall, in an exhilarating quadrille and a bottle of champagne. By that time, Mr.
Poetic fame was dear to the heart of his friend Snodgrass; the fame of conquest was equally dear to his friend Tupman; and the desire of earning fame in the sports of the field, the air, and the water was uppermost in the breast of his friend Winkle. The praise of mankind was his swing; philanthropy was his insurance office.
'Nothing, said Mr. Winkle. 'Well then, good-night, said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to disengage his hand. 'My friend, my benefactor, my honoured companion, murmured Mr. Winkle, catching at his wrist. 'Do not judge me harshly; do not, when you hear that, driven to extremity by hopeless obstacles, I 'Now then, said Mr. Tupman, reappearing at the door. 'Are you coming, or are we to be locked in?
Poetic fire lights up his eye, He struggles 'gainst his lot. Behold ambition on his brow, And on his nose, a blot. Next our peaceful Tupman comes, So rosy, plump, and sweet, Who chokes with laughter at the puns, And tumbles off his seat. Prim little Winkle too is here, With every hair in place, A model of propriety, Though he hates to wash his face.
'And I'LL take care, said Mr. Jingle internally; and they entered the house. The scene of that afternoon was repeated that evening, and on the three afternoons and evenings next ensuing. On the fourth, the host was in high spirits, for he had satisfied himself that there was no ground for the charge against Mr. Tupman. So was Mr. Tupman, for Mr.
Pickwick and his friends having walked their blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off their greatcoats and play at leap-frog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety; and we firmly believe that had Mr. Tupman at that moment proffered 'a back, Mr.
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