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For two days after the DEJEUNE at Mrs. Hunter's, the Pickwickiansremained at Eatanswill, anxiously awaiting the arrival of someintelligence from their revered leader. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrasswere once again left to their own means of amusement; for Mr. Winkle, incompliance with a most pressing invitation, continued to reside at Mr.Pott's house, and to devote his time to the companionship of his amiablelady. Nor was the occasional society of Mr. Pott himself wantingto complete their felicity. Deeply immersed in the intensity of hisspeculations for the public weal and the destruction of the INDEPENDENT,it was not the habit of that great man to descend from his mentalpinnacle to the humble level of ordinary minds. On this occasion,however, and as if expressly in compliment to any follower of Mr.Pickwick's, he unbent, relaxed, stepped down from his pedestal,and walked upon the ground, benignly adapting his remarks to thecomprehension of the herd, and seeming in outward form, if not inspirit, to be one of them.

Such having been the demeanour of this celebrated public charactertowards Mr. Winkle, it will be readily imagined that considerablesurprise was depicted on the countenance of the latter gentleman, when,as he was sitting alone in the breakfast-room, the door was hastilythrown open, and as hastily closed, on the entrance of Mr. Pott, who,stalking majestically towards him, and thrusting aside his profferedhand, ground his teeth, as if to put a sharper edge on what he was aboutto utter, and exclaimed, in a saw-like voice--

'Serpent!'

'Sir!' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, starting from his chair.

'Serpent, Sir,' repeated Mr. Pott, raising his voice, and then suddenlydepressing it: 'I said, serpent, sir--make the most of it.'

When you have parted with a man at two o'clock in the morning, on termsof the utmost good-fellowship, and he meets you again, at half-pastnine, and greets you as a serpent, it is not unreasonable to concludethat something of an unpleasant nature has occurred meanwhile. So Mr.Winkle thought. He returned Mr. Pott's gaze of stone, and in compliancewith that gentleman's request, proceeded to make the most he couldof the 'serpent.' The most, however, was nothing at all; so, after aprofound silence of some minutes' duration, he said,--

'Serpent, Sir! Serpent, Mr. Pott! What can you mean, Sir?--this ispleasantry.'

'Pleasantry, sir!' exclaimed Pott, with a motion of the hand, indicativeof a strong desire to hurl the Britannia metal teapot at the head ofthe visitor. 'Pleasantry, sir!--But--no, I will be calm; I will be calm,Sir;' in proof of his calmness, Mr. Pott flung himself into a chair, andfoamed at the mouth.

'My dear sir,' interposed Mr. Winkle.

'DEAR Sir!' replied Pott. 'How dare you address me, as dear Sir, Sir?How dare you look me in the face and do it, sir?'

'Well, Sir, if you come to that,' responded Mr. Winkle, 'how dare youlook me in the face, and call me a serpent, sir?'

'Because you are one,' replied Mr. Pott.

'Prove it, Sir,' said Mr. Winkle warmly. 'Prove it.'

A malignant scowl passed over the profound face of the editor, as hedrew from his pocket the INDEPENDENT of that morning; and laying hisfinger on a particular paragraph, threw the journal across the table toMr. Winkle.

That gentleman took it up, and read as follows:--

'Our obscure and filthy contemporary, in some disgusting observationson the recent election for this borough, has presumed to violate thehallowed sanctity of private life, and to refer in a manner not to bemisunderstood, to the personal affairs of our late candidate--aye, andnotwithstanding his base defeat, we will add, our future member, Mr.Fizkin. What does our dastardly contemporary mean? What would theruffian say, if we, setting at naught, like him, the decencies ofsocial intercourse, were to raise the curtain which happily conceals Hisprivate life from general ridicule, not to say from general execration?What, if we were even to point out, and comment on, facts andcircumstances, which are publicly notorious, and beheld by every onebut our mole-eyed contemporary--what if we were to print the followingeffusion, which we received while we were writing the commencement ofthis article, from a talented fellow-townsman and correspondent?

'"LINES TO A BRASS POT

'"Oh Pott! if you'd known How false she'd have grown, When you heard the marriage bells tinkle; You'd have done then, I vow, What you cannot help now, And handed her over to W*****"'

'What,' said Mr. Pott solemnly--'what rhymes to "tinkle," villain?'

'What rhymes to tinkle?' said Mrs. Pott, whose entrance at the momentforestalled the reply. 'What rhymes to tinkle? Why, Winkle, I shouldconceive.' Saying this, Mrs. Pott smiled sweetly on the disturbedPickwickian, and extended her hand towards him. The agitated youngman would have accepted it, in his confusion, had not Pott indignantlyinterposed.

'Back, ma'am--back!' said the editor. 'Take his hand before my veryface!'

'Mr. P.!' said his astonished lady.

'Wretched woman, look here,' exclaimed the husband. 'Look here,ma'am--"Lines to a Brass Pot." "Brass Pot"; that's me, ma'am. "FalseSHE'D have grown"; that's you, ma'am--you.' With this ebullition ofrage, which was not unaccompanied with something like a tremble, at theexpression of his wife's face, Mr. Pott dashed the current number of theEatanswill INDEPENDENT at her feet.

'Upon my word, Sir,' said the astonished Mrs. Pott, stooping to pick upthe paper. 'Upon my word, Sir!'

Mr. Pott winced beneath the contemptuous gaze of his wife. He had madea desperate struggle to screw up his courage, but it was fast comingunscrewed again.

There appears nothing very tremendous in this little sentence, 'Upon myword, sir,' when it comes to be read; but the tone of voice in which itwas delivered, and the look that accompanied it, both seeming to bearreference to some revenge to be thereafter visited upon the head ofPott, produced their effect upon him. The most unskilful observer couldhave detected in his troubled countenance, a readiness to resign hisWellington boots to any efficient substitute who would have consented tostand in them at that moment.

Mrs. Pott read the paragraph, uttered a loud shriek, and threw herselfat full length on the hearth-rug, screaming, and tapping it with theheels of her shoes, in a manner which could leave no doubt of thepropriety of her feelings on the occasion.

'My dear,' said the terrified Pott, 'I didn't say I believed it;--I--'but the unfortunate man's voice was drowned in the screaming of hispartner.

'Mrs. Pott, let me entreat you, my dear ma'am, to compose yourself,'said Mr. Winkle; but the shrieks and tappings were louder, and morefrequent than ever.

'My dear,' said Mr. Pott, 'I'm very sorry. If you won't consider yourown health, consider me, my dear. We shall have a crowd round thehouse.' But the more strenuously Mr. Pott entreated, the more vehementlythe screams poured forth.

Very fortunately, however, attached to Mrs. Pott's person was abodyguard of one, a young lady whose ostensible employment was topreside over her toilet, but who rendered herself useful in a varietyof ways, and in none more so than in the particular departmentof constantly aiding and abetting her mistress in every wish andinclination opposed to the desires of the unhappy Pott. The screamsreached this young lady's ears in due course, and brought her into theroom with a speed which threatened to derange, materially, the veryexquisite arrangement of her cap and ringlets.

'Oh, my dear, dear mistress!' exclaimed the bodyguard, kneelingfrantically by the side of the prostrate Mrs. Pott. 'Oh, my dearmistress, what is the matter?'

'Your master--your brutal master,' murmured the patient.

Pott was evidently giving way.

'It's a shame,' said the bodyguard reproachfully. 'I know he'll be thedeath on you, ma'am. Poor dear thing!'

He gave way more. The opposite party followed up the attack.

'Oh, don't leave me--don't leave me, Goodwin,' murmured Mrs. Pott,clutching at the wrist of the said Goodwin with an hysteric jerk.'You're the only person that's kind to me, Goodwin.'

At this affecting appeal, Goodwin got up a little domestic tragedy ofher own, and shed tears copiously.

'Never, ma'am--never,' said Goodwin.'Oh, sir, you should be careful--youshould indeed; you don't know what harm you may do missis; you'll besorry for it one day, I know--I've always said so.'

The unlucky Pott looked timidly on, but said nothing.

'Goodwin,' said Mrs. Pott, in a soft voice.

'Ma'am,' said Goodwin.

'If you only knew how I have loved that man--' 'Don't distress yourselfby recollecting it, ma'am,' said the bodyguard.

Pott looked very frightened. It was time to finish him.

'And now,' sobbed Mrs. Pott, 'now, after all, to be treated in this way;to be reproached and insulted in the presence of a third party, andthat party almost a stranger. But I will not submit to it! Goodwin,'continued Mrs. Pott, raising herself in the arms of her attendant, 'mybrother, the lieutenant, shall interfere. I'll be separated, Goodwin!'

'It would certainly serve him right, ma'am,' said Goodwin.

Whatever thoughts the threat of a separation might have awakened in Mr.Pott's mind, he forbore to give utterance to them, and contented himselfby saying, with great humility:--

'My dear, will you hear me?'

A fresh train of sobs was the only reply, as Mrs. Pott grew morehysterical, requested to be informed why she was ever born, and requiredsundry other pieces of information of a similar description.

'My dear,' remonstrated Mr. Pott, 'do not give way to these sensitivefeelings. I never believed that the paragraph had any foundation, mydear--impossible. I was only angry, my dear--I may say outrageous--withthe INDEPENDENT people for daring to insert it; that's all.' Mr. Pottcast an imploring look at the innocent cause of the mischief, as if toentreat him to say nothing about the serpent.

'And what steps, sir, do you mean to take to obtain redress?' inquiredMr. Winkle, gaining courage as he saw Pott losing it.

'Oh, Goodwin,' observed Mrs. Pott, 'does he mean to horsewhip the editorof the INDEPENDENT--does he, Goodwin?'

'Hush, hush, ma'am; pray keep yourself quiet,' replied the bodyguard. 'Idare say he will, if you wish it, ma'am.'

'Certainly,' said Pott, as his wife evinced decided symptoms of goingoff again. 'Of course I shall.'

'When, Goodwin--when?' said Mrs. Pott, still undecided about the goingoff.

'Immediately, of course,' said Mr. Pott; 'before the day is out.'

'Oh, Goodwin,' resumed Mrs. Pott, 'it's the only way of meeting theslander, and setting me right with the world.'

'Certainly, ma'am,' replied Goodwin. 'No man as is a man, ma'am, couldrefuse to do it.'

So, as the hysterics were still hovering about, Mr. Pott said once morethat he would do it; but Mrs. Pott was so overcome at the bare idea ofhaving ever been suspected, that she was half a dozen times on the veryverge of a relapse, and most unquestionably would have gone off, hadit not been for the indefatigable efforts of the assiduous Goodwin, andrepeated entreaties for pardon from the conquered Pott; and finally,when that unhappy individual had been frightened and snubbed down to hisproper level, Mrs. Pott recovered, and they went to breakfast.

'You will not allow this base newspaper slander to shorten your stayhere, Mr. Winkle?' said Mrs. Pott, smiling through the traces of hertears.

'I hope not,' said Mr. Pott, actuated, as he spoke, by a wish that hisvisitor would choke himself with the morsel of dry toast which hewas raising to his lips at the moment, and so terminate his stayeffectually.

'I hope not.'

'You are very good,' said Mr. Winkle; 'but a letter has been receivedfrom Mr. Pickwick--so I learn by a note from Mr. Tupman, which wasbrought up to my bedroom door, this morning--in which he requests us tojoin him at Bury to-day; and we are to leave by the coach at noon.'

'But you will come back?' said Mrs. Pott.

'Oh, certainly,' replied Mr. Winkle.

'You are quite sure?' said Mrs. Pott, stealing a tender look at hervisitor.

'Quite,' responded Mr. Winkle.

The breakfast passed off in silence, for each of the party was broodingover his, or her, own personal grievances. Mrs. Pott was regretting theloss of a beau; Mr. Pott his rash pledge to horsewhip the INDEPENDENT;Mr. Winkle his having innocently placed himself in so awkward asituation. Noon approached, and after many adieux and promises toreturn, he tore himself away.

'If he ever comes back, I'll poison him,' thought Mr. Pott, as he turnedinto the little back office where he prepared his thunderbolts.

'If I ever do come back, and mix myself up with these peopleagain,'thought Mr. Winkle, as he wended his way to the Peacock, 'I shalldeserve to be horsewhipped myself--that's all.'

His friends were ready, the coach was nearly so, and in half an hourthey were proceeding on their journey, along the road over which Mr.Pickwick and Sam had so recently travelled, and of which, as we havealready said something, we do not feel called upon to extract Mr.Snodgrass's poetical and beautiful description.

Mr. Weller was standing at the door of the Angel, ready to receivethem, and by that gentleman they were ushered to the apartment ofMr. Pickwick, where, to the no small surprise of Mr. Winkle and Mr.Snodgrass, and the no small embarrassment of Mr. Tupman, they found oldWardle and Trundle.

'How are you?' said the old man, grasping Mr. Tupman's hand. 'Don't hangback, or look sentimental about it; it can't be helped, old fellow. Forher sake, I wish you'd had her; for your own, I'm very glad you havenot. A young fellow like you will do better one of these days, eh?'With this conclusion, Wardle slapped Mr. Tupman on the back, and laughedheartily.

'Well, and how are you, my fine fellows?' said the old gentleman,shaking hands with Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass at the same time.'I have just been telling Pickwick that we must have you all down atChristmas. We're going to have a wedding--a real wedding this time.'

'A wedding!' exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, turning very pale.

'Yes, a wedding. But don't be frightened,' said the good-humoured oldman; 'it's only Trundle there, and Bella.'

'Oh, is that all?' said Mr. Snodgrass, relieved from a painful doubtwhich had fallen heavily on his breast. 'Give you joy, Sir. How is Joe?'

'Very well,' replied the old gentleman. 'Sleepy as ever.'

'And your mother, and the clergyman, and all of 'em?'

'Quite well.'

'Where,' said Mr. Tupman, with an effort--'where is--SHE, Sir?' and heturned away his head, and covered his eyes with his hand. 'SHE!' saidthe old gentleman, with a knowing shake of the head. 'Do you mean mysingle relative--eh?'

Mr. Tupman, by a nod, intimated that his question applied to thedisappointed Rachael.

'Oh, she's gone away,' said the old gentleman. 'She's living at arelation's, far enough off. She couldn't bear to see the girls, so I lether go. But come! Here's the dinner. You must be hungry after your ride.I am, without any ride at all; so let us fall to.'

Ample justice was done to the meal; and when they were seated roundthe table, after it had been disposed of, Mr. Pickwick, to the intensehorror and indignation of his followers, related the adventure he hadundergone, and the success which had attended the base artifices of thediabolical Jingle. 'And the attack of rheumatism which I caught in thatgarden,' said Mr. Pickwick, in conclusion, 'renders me lame at thismoment.'

'I, too, have had something of an adventure,' said Mr. Winkle, with asmile; and, at the request of Mr. Pickwick, he detailed the maliciouslibel of the Eatanswill INDEPENDENT, and the consequent excitement oftheir friend, the editor.

Mr. Pickwick's brow darkened during the recital. His friends observedit, and, when Mr. Winkle had concluded, maintained a profound silence.Mr. Pickwick struck the table emphatically with his clenched fist, andspoke as follows:--

'Is it not a wonderful circumstance,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that we seemdestined to enter no man's house without involving him in some degreeof trouble? Does it not, I ask, bespeak the indiscretion, or, worse thanthat, the blackness of heart--that I should say so!--of my followers,that, beneath whatever roof they locate, they disturb the peace of mindand happiness of some confiding female? Is it not, I say--'

Mr. Pickwick would in all probability have gone on for some time, hadnot the entrance of Sam, with a letter, caused him to break off in hiseloquent discourse. He passed his handkerchief across his forehead, tookoff his spectacles, wiped them, and put them on again; and his voice hadrecovered its wonted softness of tone when he said--

'What have you there, Sam?'

'Called at the post-office just now, and found this here letter, as haslaid there for two days,' replied Mr. Weller. 'It's sealed vith a vafer,and directed in round hand.'

'I don't know this hand,' said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. 'Mercyon us! what's this? It must be a jest; it--it--can't be true.'

'What's the matter?' was the general inquiry.

'Nobody dead, is there?' said Wardle, alarmed at the horror in Mr.Pickwick's countenance.

Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but, pushing the letter across the table,and desiring Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his chair with alook of vacant astonishment quite alarming to behold.

Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of which thefollowing is a copy:--

Freeman's Court, Cornhill, August 28th, 1827.

Bardell against Pickwick.

Sir,

Having been instructed by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence an actionagainst you for a breach of promise of marriage, for which the plaintifflays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to inform you thata writ has been issued against you in this suit in the Court of CommonPleas; and request to know, by return of post, the name of your attorneyin London, who will accept service thereof.

We are, Sir, Your obedient servants, Dodson & Fogg.

Mr. Samuel Pickwick.

There was something so impressive in the mute astonishment with whicheach man regarded his neighbour, and every man regarded Mr. Pickwick,that all seemed afraid to speak. The silence was at length broken by Mr.Tupman.

'Dodson and Fogg,' he repeated mechanically.

'Bardell and Pickwick,' said Mr. Snodgrass, musing.

'Peace of mind and happiness of confiding females,' murmured Mr. Winkle,with an air of abstraction.

'It's a conspiracy,' said Mr. Pickwick, at length recovering the powerof speech; 'a base conspiracy between these two grasping attorneys,Dodson and Fogg. Mrs. Bardell would never do it;--she hasn't the heartto do it;--she hasn't the case to do it. Ridiculous--ridiculous.' 'Ofher heart,' said Wardle, with a smile, 'you should certainly be the bestjudge. I don't wish to discourage you, but I should certainly say that,of her case, Dodson and Fogg are far better judges than any of us canbe.'

'It's a vile attempt to extort money,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'I hope it is,' said Wardle, with a short, dry cough.

'Who ever heard me address her in any way but that in which a lodgerwould address his landlady?' continued Mr. Pickwick, with greatvehemence. 'Who ever saw me with her? Not even my friends here--'

'Except on one occasion,' said Mr. Tupman.

Mr. Pickwick changed colour. 'Ah,' said Mr. Wardle. 'Well, that'simportant. There was nothing suspicious then, I suppose?'

Mr. Tupman glanced timidly at his leader. 'Why,' said he, 'therewas nothing suspicious; but--I don't know how it happened, mind--shecertainly was reclining in his arms.'

'Gracious powers!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, as the recollection of thescene in question struck forcibly upon him; 'what a dreadful instance ofthe force of circumstances! So she was--so she was.'

'And our friend was soothing her anguish,' said Mr. Winkle, rathermaliciously.

'So I was,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I don't deny it. So I was.'

'Hollo!' said Wardle; 'for a case in which there's nothing suspicious,this looks rather queer--eh, Pickwick? Ah, sly dog--sly dog!' and helaughed till the glasses on the sideboard rang again.

'What a dreadful conjunction of appearances!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick,resting his chin upon his hands. 'Winkle--Tupman--I beg your pardonfor the observations I made just now. We are all the victims ofcircumstances, and I the greatest.' With this apology Mr. Pickwickburied his head in his hands, and ruminated; while Wardle measured out aregular circle of nods and winks, addressed to the other members of thecompany.

'I'll have it explained, though,' said Mr. Pickwick, raising his headand hammering the table. 'I'll see this Dodson and Fogg! I'll go toLondon to-morrow.'

'Not to-morrow,' said Wardle; 'you're too lame.'

'Well, then, next day.'

'Next day is the first of September, and you're pledged to ride out withus, as far as Sir Geoffrey Manning's grounds at all events, and to meetus at lunch, if you don't take the field.'

'Well, then, the day after,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'Thursday.--Sam!'

'Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'Take two places outside to London, on Thursday morning, for yourselfand me.'

'Wery well, Sir.'

Mr. Weller left the room, and departed slowly on his errand, with hishands in his pocket and his eyes fixed on the ground.

'Rum feller, the hemperor,' said Mr. Weller, as he walked slowly up thestreet. 'Think o' his makin' up to that 'ere Mrs. Bardell--vith a littleboy, too! Always the vay vith these here old 'uns howsoever, as is suchsteady goers to look at. I didn't think he'd ha' done it, though--Ididn't think he'd ha' done it!' Moralising in this strain, Mr. SamuelWeller bent his steps towards the booking-office.