HONOURABLY ACCOUNTS FOR Mr. WELLER’SABSENCE, BY DESCRIBING A SOIREE TOWHICH HE WAS INVITED AND WENT; ALSORELATES HOW HE WAS ENTRUSTED BY Mr.

　　PICKWICK WITH A PRIVATE MISSION OFDELICACY AND IMPORTANCEr. Weller,’ said Mrs. Craddock, upon the morning ofthis very eventful day, ‘here’s a letter for you.’

　　‘Wery odd that,’ said Sam; ‘I’m afeerd there mustbe somethin’ the matter, for I don’t recollect any gen’l’m’n in mycircle of acquaintance as is capable o’ writin’ one.’

　　‘Perhaps something uncommon has taken place,’ observed Mrs.

　　Craddock.

　　‘It must be somethin’ wery uncommon indeed, as could perducea letter out o’ any friend o’ mine,’ replied Sam, shaking his headdubiously; ‘nothin’ less than a nat’ral conwulsion, as the younggen’l’m’n observed ven he wos took with fits. It can’t be from thegov’ner,’ said Sam, looking at the direction. ‘He always prints, Iknow, ’cos he learnt writin’ from the large bills in the booking-offices. It’s a wery strange thing now, where this here letter canha’ come from.’

　　As Sam said this, he did what a great many people do whenthey are uncertain about the writer of a note―looked at the seal,and then at the front, and then at the back, and then at the sides,and then at the superscription; and, as a last resource, thoughtperhaps he might as well look at the inside, and try to find outfrom that.

　　‘It’s wrote on gilt-edged paper,’ said Sam, as he unfolded it,‘and sealed in bronze vax vith the top of a door key. Now for it.’

　　And, with a very grave face, Mr. Weller slowly read as follows―‘A select company of the Bath footmen presents theircompliments to Mr. Weller, and requests the pleasure of hiscompany this evening, to a friendly swarry, consisting of a boiledleg of mutton with the usual trimmings. The swarry to be on tableat half-past nine o’clock punctually.’

　　This was inclosed in another note, which ran thus―‘Mr. John Smauker, the gentleman who had the pleasure ofmeeting Mr. Weller at the house of their mutual acquaintance, Mr.

　　Bantam, a few days since, begs to inclose Mr. Weller the herewithinvitation. If Mr. Weller will call on Mr. John Smauker at nineo’clock, Mr. John Smauker will have the pleasure of introducingMr. Weller.

　　(Signed) ‘JOHN SMAUKER.’

　　The envelope was directed to blank Weller, Esq., at Mr.

　　Pickwick’s; and in a parenthesis, in the left hand corner, were thewords ‘airy bell,’ as an instruction to the bearer.

　　‘Vell,’ said Sam, ‘this is comin’ it rayther powerful, this is. Inever heerd a biled leg o’ mutton called a swarry afore. I wonderwot they’d call a roast one.’

　　However, without waiting to debate the point, Sam at oncebetook himself into the presence of Mr. Pickwick, and requestedleave of absence for that evening, which was readily granted. Withthis permission and the street-door key, Sam Weller issued forth alittle before the appointed time, and strolled leisurely towardsQueen Square, which he no sooner gained than he had thesatisfaction of beholding Mr. John Smauker leaning his powderedhead against a lamp-post at a short distance off, smoking a cigarthrough an amber tube.

　　‘How do you do, Mr. Weller?’ said Mr. John Smauker, raisinghis hat gracefully with one hand, while he gently waved the otherin a condescending manner. ‘How do you do, sir?’

　　‘Why, reasonably conwalessent,’ replied Sam. ‘How do you findyourself, my dear feller?’

　　‘Only so so,’ said Mr. John Smauker.

　　‘Ah, you’ve been a-workin’ too hard,’ observed Sam. ‘I wasfearful you would; it won’t do, you know; you must not give way tothat ’ere uncompromisin’ spirit o’ yourn.’

　　‘It’s not so much that, Mr. Weller,’ replied Mr. John Smauker,‘as bad wine; I’m afraid I’ve been dissipating.’

　　‘Oh! that’s it, is it?’ said Sam; ‘that’s a wery bad complaint,that.’

　　‘And yet the temptation, you see, Mr. Weller,’ observed Mr.

　　John Smauker.

　　‘Ah, to be sure,’ said Sam.

　　‘Plunged into the very vortex of society, you know, Mr. Weller,’

　　said Mr. John Smauker, with a sigh.

　　‘Dreadful, indeed!’ rejoined Sam.

　　‘But it’s always the way,’ said Mr. John Smauker; ‘if yourdestiny leads you into public life, and public station, you mustexpect to be subjected to temptations which other people is freefrom, Mr. Weller.’

　　‘Precisely what my uncle said, ven he vent into the public line,’

　　remarked Sam, ‘and wery right the old gen’l’m’n wos, for he drankhisself to death in somethin’ less than a quarter.’ Mr. JohnSmauker looked deeply indignant at any parallel being drawnbetween himself and the deceased gentleman in question; but, asSam’s face was in the most immovable state of calmness, hethought better of it, and looked affable again. ‘Perhaps we hadbetter be walking,’ said Mr. Smauker, consulting a coppertimepiece which dwelt at the bottom of a deep watch-pocket, andwas raised to the surface by means of a black string, with a copperkey at the other end.

　　‘P’raps we had,’ replied Sam, ‘or they’ll overdo the swarry, andthat’ll spile it.’

　　‘Have you drank the waters, Mr. Weller?’ inquired hiscompanion, as they walked towards High Street.

　　‘Once,’ replied Sam.

　　‘What did you think of ’em, sir?’

　　‘I thought they was particklery unpleasant,’ replied Sam.

　　‘Ah,’ said Mr. John Smauker, ‘you disliked the killibeate taste,perhaps?’

　　‘I don’t know much about that ’ere,’ said Sam. ‘I thought they’da wery strong flavour o’ warm flat irons.’

　　‘That is the killibeate, Mr. Weller,’ observed Mr. John Smaukercontemptuously.

　　‘Well, if it is, it’s a wery inexpressive word, that’s all,’ said Sam.

　　‘It may be, but I ain’t much in the chimical line myself, so I can’tsay.’ And here, to the great horror of Mr. John Smauker, SamWeller began to whistle.

　　‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Weller,’ said Mr. John Smauker,agonised at the exceeding ungenteel sound, ‘will you take myarm?’

　　‘Thank’ee, you’re wery good, but I won’t deprive you of it,’

　　replied Sam. ‘I’ve rayther a way o’ putting my hands in mypockets, if it’s all the same to you.’ As Sam said this, he suited theaction to the word, and whistled far louder than before.

　　‘This way,’ said his new friend, apparently much relieved asthey turned down a by-street; ‘we shall soon be there.’

　　‘Shall we?’ said Sam, quite unmoved by the announcement ofhis close vicinity to the select footmen of Bath.

　　‘Yes,’ said Mr. John Smauker. ‘Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Weller.’

　　‘Oh, no,’ said Sam.

　　‘You’ll see some very handsome uniforms, Mr. Weller,’

　　continued Mr. John Smauker; ‘and perhaps you’ll find some of thegentlemen rather high at first, you know, but they’ll soon comeround.’

　　‘That’s wery kind on ’em,’ replied Sam. ‘And you know,’

　　resumed Mr. John Smauker, with an air of sublime protection―‘you know, as you’re a stranger, perhaps, they’ll be rather hardupon you at first.’

　　‘They won’t be wery cruel, though, will they?’ inquired Sam.

　　‘No, no,’ replied Mr. John Smauker, pulling forth the fox’s head,and taking a gentlemanly pinch. ‘There are some funny dogsamong us, and they will have their joke, you know; but youmustn’t mind ’em, you mustn’t mind ’em.’

　　‘I’ll try and bear up agin such a reg’lar knock down o’ talent,’

　　replied Sam.

　　‘That’s right,’ said Mr. John Smauker, putting forth his fox’shead, and elevating his own; ‘I’ll stand by you.’

　　By this time they had reached a small greengrocer’s shop,which Mr. John Smauker entered, followed by Sam, who, themoment he got behind him, relapsed into a series of the verybroadest and most unmitigated grins, and manifested otherdemonstrations of being in a highly enviable state of inwardmerriment.

　　Crossing the greengrocer’s shop, and putting their hats on thestairs in the little passage behind it, they walked into a smallparlour; and here the full splendour of the scene burst upon Mr.

　　Weller’s view.

　　A couple of tables were put together in the middle of theparlour, covered with three or four cloths of different ages anddates of washing, arranged to look as much like one as thecircumstances of the case would allow. Upon these were laidknives and forks for six or eight people. Some of the knife handleswere green, others red, and a few yellow; and as all the forks wereblack, the combination of colours was exceedingly striking. Platesfor a corresponding number of guests were warming behind thefender; and the guests themselves were warming before it: thechief and most important of whom appeared to be a stoutishgentleman in a bright crimson coat with long tails, vividly redbreeches, and a cocked hat, who was standing with his back to thefire, and had apparently just entered, for besides retaining hiscocked hat on his head, he carried in his hand a high stick, such asgentlemen of his profession usually elevate in a sloping positionover the roofs of carriages.

　　‘Smauker, my lad, your fin,’ said the gentleman with the cockedhat.

　　Mr. Smauker dovetailed the top joint of his right-hand littlefinger into that of the gentleman with the cocked hat, and said hewas charmed to see him looking so well.

　　‘Well, they tell me I am looking pretty blooming,’ said the manwith the cocked hat, ‘and it’s a wonder, too. I’ve been following ourold woman about, two hours a day, for the last fortnight; and if aconstant contemplation of the manner in which she hooks-and-eyes that infernal lavender-coloured old gown of hers behind, isn’tenough to throw anybody into a low state of despondency for life,stop my quarter’s salary.’

　　At this, the assembled selections laughed very heartily; and onegentleman in a yellow waistcoat, with a coach-trimming border,whispered a neighbour in green-foil smalls, that Tuckle was inspirits to-night.

　　‘By the bye,’ said Mr. Tuckle, ‘Smauker, my boy, you―’ Theremainder of the sentence was forwarded into Mr. JohnSmauker’s ear, by whisper.

　　‘Oh, dear me, I quite forgot,’ said Mr. John Smauker.

　　‘Gentlemen, my friend Mr. Weller.’

　　‘Sorry to keep the fire off you, Weller,’ said Mr. Tuckle, with afamiliar nod. ‘Hope you’re not cold, Weller.’

　　‘Not by no means, Blazes,’ replied Sam. ‘It ’ud be a wery chillysubject as felt cold wen you stood opposite. You’d save coals if theyput you behind the fender in the waitin’-room at a public office,you would.’

　　As this retort appeared to convey rather a personal allusion toMr. Tuckle’s crimson livery, that gentleman looked majestic for afew seconds, but gradually edging away from the fire, broke into aforced smile, and said it wasn’t bad.

　　‘Wery much obliged for your good opinion, sir,’ replied Sam.

　　‘We shall get on by degrees, I des-say. We’ll try a better one by andbye.’

　　At this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival ofa gentleman in orange-coloured plush, accompanied by anotherselection in purple cloth, with a great extent of stocking. The new-comers having been welcomed by the old ones, Mr. Tuckle put thequestion that supper be ordered in, which was carriedunanimously.

　　The greengrocer and his wife then arranged upon the table aboiled leg of mutton, hot, with caper sauce, turnips, and potatoes.

　　Mr. Tuckle took the chair, and was supported at the other end ofthe board by the gentleman in orange plush. The greengrocer puton a pair of wash-leather gloves to hand the plates with, andstationed himself behind Mr. Tuckle’s chair.

　　‘Harris,’ said Mr. Tuckle, in a commanding tone.

　　‘Sir,’ said the greengrocer.

　　‘Have you got your gloves on?’

　　‘Yes, sir.’

　　‘Then take the kiver off.’

　　‘Yes, sir.’

　　The greengrocer did as he was told, with a show of greathumility, and obsequiously handed Mr. Tuckle the carving-knife;in doing which, he accidentally gaped.

　　‘What do you mean by that, sir?’ said Mr. Tuckle, with greatasperity.

　　‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ replied the crestfallen greengrocer, ‘Ididn’t mean to do it, sir; I was up very late last night, sir.’

　　‘I tell you what my opinion of you is, Harris,’ said Mr. Tuckle,with a most impressive air, ‘you’re a wulgar beast.’

　　‘I hope, gentlemen,’ said Harris, ‘that you won’t be severe withme, gentlemen. I am very much obliged to you indeed, gentlemen,for your patronage, and also for your recommendations,gentlemen, whenever additional assistance in waiting is required.

　　I hope, gentlemen, I give satisfaction.’

　　‘No, you don’t, sir,’ said Mr. Tuckle. ‘Very far from it, sir.’

　　‘We consider you an inattentive reskel,’ said the gentleman inthe orange plush.

　　‘And a low thief,’ added the gentleman in the green-foil smalls.

　　‘And an unreclaimable blaygaird,’ added the gentleman inpurple.

　　The poor greengrocer bowed very humbly while these littleepithets were bestowed upon him, in the true spirit of the verysmallest tyranny; and when everybody had said something toshow his superiority, Mr. Tuckle proceeded to carve the leg ofmutton, and to help the company.

　　This important business of the evening had hardly commenced,when the door was thrown briskly open, and another gentleman ina light-blue suit, and leaden buttons, made his appearance.

　　‘Against the rules,’ said Mr. Tuckle. ‘Too late, too late.’

　　‘No, no; positively I couldn’t help it,’ said the gentleman in blue.

　　‘I appeal to the company. An affair of gallantry now, anappointment at the theayter.’

　　‘Oh, that indeed,’ said the gentleman in the orange plush.

　　‘Yes; raly now, honour bright,’ said the man in blue. ‘I made apromese to fetch our youngest daughter at half-past ten, and she issuch an uncauminly fine gal, that I raly hadn’t the ’art to disappinther. No offence to the present company, sir, but a petticut, sir―apetticut, sir, is irrevokeable.’

　　‘I begin to suspect there’s something in that quarter,’ saidTuckle, as the new-comer took his seat next Sam, ‘I’ve remarked,once or twice, that she leans very heavy on your shoulder whenshe gets in and out of the carriage.’

　　‘Oh, raly, raly, Tuckle, you shouldn’t,’ said the man in blue. ‘It’snot fair. I may have said to one or two friends that she wos a verydivine creechure, and had refused one or two offers without anyhobvus cause, but―no, no, no, indeed, Tuckle―before strangers,too―it’s not right―you shouldn’t. Delicacy, my dear friend,delicacy!’ And the man in blue, pulli............