IN WHICH Mr. SAMUEL WELLER BEGINS TO DEVOTE HIS ENERGIES TO THE RETURN MATCH BETWEEN HIMSELF AND Mr. TROTTERn a small room in the vicinity of the stableyard, betimes in themorning, which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick’s adventurewith the middle-aged lady in the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr.

　　Weller, senior, preparing himself for his journey to London. Hewas sitting in an excellent attitude for having his portrait taken;and here it is.

　　It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr.

　　Weller’s profile might have presented a bold and determinedoutline. His face, however, had expanded under the influence ofgood living, and a disposition remarkable for resignation; and itsbold, fleshy curves had so far extended beyond the limitsoriginally assigned them, that unless you took a full view of hiscountenance in front, it was difficult to distinguish more than theextreme tip of a very rubicund nose. His chin, from the samecause, had acquired the grave and imposing form which isgenerally described by prefixing the word ‘double’ to thatexpressive feature; and his complexion exhibited that peculiarlymottled combination of colours which is only to be seen ingentlemen of his profession, and in underdone roast beef. Roundhis neck he wore a crimson travelling-shawl, which merged intohis chin by such imperceptible gradations, that it was difficult todistinguish the folds of the one, from the folds of the other. Overthis, he mounted a long waistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern,and over that again, a wide-skirted green coat, ornamented withlarge brass buttons, whereof the two which garnished the waist,were so far apart, that no man had ever beheld them both at thesame time. His hair, which was short, sleek, and black, was justvisible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crowned brown hat.

　　His legs were encased in knee-cord breeches, and painted top-boots; and a copper watch-chain, terminating in one seal, and akey of the same material, dangled loosely from his capaciouswaistband.

　　We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for hisjourney to London―he was taking sustenance, in fact. On thetable before him, stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and avery respectable-looking loaf, to each of which he distributed hisfavours in turn, with the most rigid impartiality. He had just cut amighty slice from the latter, when the footsteps of somebodyentering the room, caused him to raise his head; and he beheld hisson.

　　‘Mornin’, Sammy!’ said the father.

　　The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantlyto his parent, took a long draught by way of reply.

　　‘Wery good power o’ suction, Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller theelder, looking into the pot, when his first-born had set it down halfempty. ‘You’d ha’ made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, ifyou’d been born in that station o’ life.’

　　‘Yes, I des-say, I should ha’ managed to pick up a respectablelivin’,’ replied Sam applying himself to the cold beef, withconsiderable vigour.

　　‘I’m wery sorry, Sammy,’ said the elder Mr. Weller, shaking upthe ale, by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory todrinking. ‘I’m wery sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as youlet yourself be gammoned by that ’ere mulberry man. I alwaysthought, up to three days ago, that the names of Veller andgammon could never come into contract, Sammy, never.’

　　‘Always exceptin’ the case of a widder, of course,’ said Sam.

　　‘Widders, Sammy,’ replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour.

　　‘Widders are ’ceptions to ev’ry rule. I have heerd how manyordinary women one widder’s equal to in pint o’ comin’ over you. Ithink it’s five-and-twenty, but I don’t rightly know vether it ain’tmore.’

　　‘Well; that’s pretty well,’ said Sam.

　　‘Besides,’ continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption,‘that’s a wery different thing. You know what the counsel said,Sammy, as defended the gen’l’m’n as beat his wife with the poker,venever he got jolly. “And arter all, my Lord,” says he, “it’s aamiable weakness.” So I says respectin’ widders, Sammy, and soyou’ll say, ven you gets as old as me.’

　　‘I ought to ha’ know’d better, I know,’ said Sam.

　　‘Ought to ha’ know’d better!’ repeated Mr. Weller, striking thetable with his fist. ‘Ought to ha’ know’d better! why, I know ayoung ’un as hasn’t had half nor quarter your eddication―ashasn’t slept about the markets, no, not six months―who’d ha’

　　scorned to be let in, in such a vay; scorned it, Sammy.’ In theexcitement of feeling produced by this agonising reflection, Mr.

　　Weller rang the bell, and ordered an additional pint of ale.

　　‘Well, it’s no use talking about it now,’ said Sam. ‘It’s over, andcan’t be helped, and that’s one consolation, as they always says inTurkey, ven they cuts the wrong man’s head off. It’s my inningsnow, gov’nor, and as soon as I catches hold o’ this ’ere Trotter, I’llhave a good ’un .’

　　‘I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will,’ returned Mr. Weller.

　　‘Here’s your health, Sammy, and may you speedily vipe off thedisgrace as you’ve inflicted on the family name.’ In honour of thistoast Mr. Weller imbibed at a draught, at least two-thirds of anewly-arrived pint, and handed it over to his son, to dispose of theremainder, which he instantaneously did.

　　‘And now, Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, consulting a large double-faced silver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. ‘Nowit’s time I was up at the office to get my vay-bill and see the coachloaded; for coaches, Sammy, is like guns―they requires to beloaded with wery great care, afore they go off.’

　　At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller, junior,smiled a filial smile. His revered parent continued in a solemntone―‘I’m a-goin’ to leave you, Samivel, my boy, and there’s no tellingven I shall see you again. Your mother-in-law may ha’ been toomuch for me, or a thousand things may have happened by thetime you next hears any news o’ the celebrated Mr. Veller o’ theBell Savage. The family name depends wery much upon you,Samivel, and I hope you’ll do wot’s right by it. Upon all little pintso’ breedin’, I know I may trust you as vell as if it was my own self.

　　So I’ve only this here one little bit of adwice to give you. If everyou gets to up’ards o’ fifty, and feels disposed to go a-marryin’

　　anybody―no matter who―jist you shut yourself up in your ownroom, if you’ve got one, and pison yourself off hand. Hangin’swulgar, so don’t you have nothin’ to say to that. Pison yourself,Samivel, my boy, pison yourself, and you’ll be glad on itarterwards.’ With these affecting words, Mr. Weller lookedsteadfastly on his son, and turning slowly upon his heel,disappeared from his sight.

　　In the contemplative mood which these words had awakened,Mr. Samuel Weller walked forth from the Great White Horse whenhis father had left him; and bending his steps towards St.

　　Clement’s Church, endeavoured to dissipate his melancholy, bystrolling among its ancient precincts. He had loitered about, forsome time, when he found himself in a retired spot―a kind ofcourtyard of venerable appearance―which he discovered had noother outlet than the turning by which he had entered. He wasabout retracing his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to thespot by a sudden appearance; and the mode and manner of thisappearance, we now proceed to relate.

　　Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up at the old brick housesnow and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink uponsome healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threwopen a bedroom window, when the green gate of a garden at thebottom of the yard opened, and a man having emerged therefrom,closed the green gate very carefully after him, and walked brisklytowards the very spot where Mr. Weller was standing.

　　Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by anyattendant circumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary init; because in many parts of the world men do come out ofgardens, close green gates after them, and even walk briskly away,without attracting any particular share of public observation. It isclear, therefore, that there must have been something in the man,or in his manner, or both, to attract Mr. Weller’s particular notice.

　　Whether there was, or not, we must leave the reader to determine,when we have faithfully recorded the behaviour of the individualin question.

　　When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, aswe have said twice already, with a brisk pace up the courtyard; buthe no sooner caught sight of Mr. Weller than he faltered, andstopped, as if uncertain, for the moment, what course to adopt. Asthe green gate was closed behind him, and there was no otheroutlet but the one in front, however, he was not long in perceivingthat he must pass Mr. Samuel Weller to get away. He thereforeresumed his brisk pace, and advanced, staring straight before him.

　　The most extraordinary thing about the man was, that he wascontorting his face into the most fearful and astonishing grimacesthat ever were beheld. Nature’s handiwork never was disguisedwith such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had overlaidhis countenance with in one moment.

　　‘Well!’ said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. ‘Thisis wery odd. I could ha’ swore it was him.’

　　Up came the man, and his face became more frightfullydistorted than ever, as he drew nearer.

　　‘I could take my oath to that ’ere black hair an............