SAMUEL WELLER MAKES A PILGRIMAGETO DORKING, AND BEHOLDS HISMOTHER-IN-LAWhere still remaining an interval of two days before the timeagreed upon for the departure of the Pickwickians toDingley Dell, Mr. Weller sat himself down in a back roomat the George and Vulture, after eating an early dinner, to muse onthe best way of disposing of his time. It was a remarkably fine day;and he had not turned the matter over in his mind ten minutes,when he was suddenly stricken filial and affectionate; and itoccurred to him so strongly that he ought to go down and see hisfather, and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lost inastonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of thismoral obligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglectwithout another hour’s delay, he straightway walked upstairs toMr. Pickwick, and requested leave of absence for this laudablepurpose.

　　‘Certainly, Sam, certainly,’ said Mr. Pickwick, his eyesglistening with delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on thepart of his attendant; ‘certainly, Sam.’

　　Mr. Weller made a grateful bow.

　　‘I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of yourduties as a son, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘I always had, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller.

　　‘That’s a very gratifying reflection, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwickapprovingly.

　　‘Wery, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘if ever I wanted anythin’ o’ myfather, I always asked for it in a wery ’spectful and obligin’

　　manner. If he didn’t give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led todo anythin’ wrong, through not havin’ it. I saved him a world o’

　　trouble this vay, sir.’

　　‘That’s not precisely what I meant, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick,shaking his head, with a slight smile.

　　‘All good feelin’, sir―the wery best intentions, as the gen’l’m’nsaid ven he run away from his wife ’cos she seemed unhappy withhim,’ replied Mr. Weller.

　　‘You may go, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Thank’ee, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller; and having made his bestbow, and put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the topof the Arundel coach, and journeyed on to Dorking.

　　The Marquis of Granby, in Mrs. Weller’s time, was quite amodel of a roadside public-house of the better class―just largeenough to be convenient, and small enough to be snug. On theopposite side of the road was a large sign-board on a high post,representing the head and shoulders of a gentleman with anapoplectic countenance, in a red coat with deep blue facings, and atouch of the same blue over his three-cornered hat, for a sky. Overthat again were a pair of flags; beneath the last button of his coatwere a couple of cannon; and the whole formed an expressive andundoubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of glorious memory.

　　The bar window displayed a choice collection of geraniumplants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shuttersbore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds andneat wines; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlerslounging about the stable door and horse-trough, affordedpresumptive proof of the excellent quality of the ale and spiritswhich were sold within. Sam Weller paused, when he dismountedfrom the coach, to note all these little indications of a thrivingbusiness, with the eye of an experienced traveller; and havingdone so, stepped in at once, highly satisfied with everything hehad observed.

　　‘Now, then!’ said a shrill female voice the instant Sam thrust hishead in at the door, ‘what do you want, young man?’

　　Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded.

　　It came from a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, whowas seated beside the fireplace in the bar, blowing the fire to makethe kettle boil for tea. She was not alone; for on the other side ofthe fireplace, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was aman in threadbare black clothes, with a back almost as long andstiff as that of the chair itself, who caught Sam’s most particularand especial attention at once.

　　He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thincountenance, and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye―rather sharp, butdecidedly bad. He wore very short trousers, and black cottonstockings, which, like the rest of his apparel, were particularlyrusty. His looks were starched, but his white neckerchief was not,and its long limp ends straggled over his closely-buttonedwaistcoat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion. A pair ofold, worn, beaver gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a faded greenumbrella, with plenty of whalebone sticking through the bottom,as if to counterbalance the want of a handle at the top, lay on achair beside him; and, being disposed in a very tidy and carefulmanner, seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever hewas, had no intention of going away in a hurry.

　　To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very farfrom wise if he had entertained any such intention; for, to judgefrom all appearances, he must have been possessed of a mostdesirable circle of acquaintance, if he could have reasonablyexpected to be more comfortable anywhere else. The fire wasblazing brightly under the influence of the bellows, and the kettlewas singing gaily under the influence of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table; a plate of hot buttered toast wasgently simmering before the fire; and the red-nosed man himselfwas busily engaged in converting a large slice of bread into thesame agreeable edible, through the instrumentality of a long brasstoasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hot pine-applerum-and-water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye, with theview of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two of thehot pine-apple rum-and-water, and smiled upon the rather stoutlady, as she blew the fire.

　　Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene,that he suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to passunheeded. It was not until it had been twice repeated, each time ina shriller tone, that he became conscious of the impropriety of hisbehaviour.

　　‘Governor in?’ inquired Sam, in reply to the question.

　　‘No, he isn’t,’ replied Mrs. Weller; for the rather stout lady wasno other than the quondam relict and sole executrix of the dead-and-gone Mr. Clarke; ‘no, he isn’t, and I don’t expect him, either.’

　　‘I suppose he’s drivin’ up to-day?’ said Sam.

　　‘He may be, or he may not,’ replied Mrs. Weller, buttering theround of toast which the red-nosed man had just finished. ‘I don’tknow, and, what’s more, I don’t care.―Ask a blessin’, Mr.

　　Stiggins.’

　　The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantlycommenced on the toast with fierce voracity.

　　The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at firstsight, to more than half suspect that he was the deputy-shepherdof whom his estimable parent had spoken. The moment he sawhim eat, all doubt on the subject was removed, and he perceived atonce that if he purposed to take up his temporary quarters wherehe was, he must make his footing good without delay. He thereforecommenced proceedings by putting his arm over the half-door ofthe bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurely walking in.

　　‘Mother-in-law,’ said Sam, ‘how are you?’

　　‘Why, I do believe he is a Weller!’ said Mrs. W., raising her eyesto Sam’s face, with no very gratified expression of countenance.

　　‘I rayther think he is,’ said the imperturbable Sam; ‘and I hopethis here reverend gen’l’m’n ‘ll excuse me saying that I wish I wasthe Weller as owns you, mother-in-law.’

　　This was a double-barrelled compliment. It implied that Mrs.

　　Weller was a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stigginshad a clerical appearance. It made a visible impression at once;and Sam followed up his advantage by kissing his mother-in-law.

　　‘Get along with you!’ said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. ‘Forshame, young man!’ said the gentleman with the red nose.

　　‘No offence, sir, no offence,’ replied Sam; ‘you’re wery right,though; it ain’t the right sort o’ thing, ven mothers-in-law is youngand good-looking, is it, sir?’

　　‘It’s all vanity,’ said Mr. Stiggins.

　　‘Ah, so it is,’ said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights.

　　Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace.

　　The deputy-shepherd seemed by no means best pleased withSam’s arrival; and when the first effervescence of the complimenthad subsided, even Mrs. Weller looked as if she could have sparedhim without the smallest inconvenience. However, there he was;and as he couldn’t be decently turned out, they all three sat downto tea.

　　‘And how’s father?’ said Sam.

　　At this inquiry, Mrs. Weller raised her hands, and turned up hereyes, as if the subject were too painful to be alluded to.

　　Mr. Stiggins groaned.

　　‘What’s the matter with that ’ere gen’l’m’n?’ inquired Sam.

　　‘He’s shocked at the way your father goes on in,’ replied Mrs.

　　Weller.

　　‘Oh, he is, is he?’ said Sam.

　　‘And with too good reason,’ added Mrs. Weller gravely.

　　Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily.

　　‘He is a dreadful reprobate,’ said Mrs. Weller.

　　‘A man of wrath!’ exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large semi-circular bite out of the toast, and groaned again.

　　Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr.

　　Stiggins something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination,and merely asked, ‘What’s the old ’un up to now?’

　　‘Up to, indeed!’ said Mrs. Weller, ‘Oh, he has a hard heart.

　　Night after night does this excellent man―don’t frown, Mr.

　　Stiggins; I will say you are an excellent man―come and sit here,for hours together, and it has not the least effect upon him.’

　　‘Well, that is odd,’ said Sam; ‘it ’ud have a wery considerableeffect upon me, if I wos in his place; I know that.’

　　‘The fact is, my young friend,’ said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, ‘hehas an obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else couldhave resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, andwithstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society forproviding the infant negroes in the West Indies with flannelwaistcoats and moral pocket-handkerchiefs?’

　　‘What’s a moral pocket-ankercher?’ said Sam; ‘I never see oneo’ them articles o’ furniter.’

　　‘Those which combine amusement With instruction, my youngfriend,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, ‘blending select tales with wood-cuts.’

　　‘Oh, I know,’ said Sam; ‘them as hangs up in the linen-drapers’

　　shops, with beggars’ petitions and all that ’ere upon ‘em?’

　　Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nodded assent.

　　‘And he wouldn’t be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn’t he?’ saidSam.

　　‘Sat and s............