THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF
THE PICKWICK CLUB
[Illustration: "_Gentlemen, what does this mean? 'Chops and Tomato
sauce. Yours, Pickwick.'_"]
THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS
OF THE
PICKWICK CLUB
BY
CHARLES DICKENS
ILLUSTRATED BY
CECIL ALDIN
VOLUME THE SECOND
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
31 West Twenty-Third Street
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
+The Story of the Goblins who Stole a Sexton+ 1
CHAPTER II
+How the Pickwickians made and cultivated the
Acquaintance of a couple of Nice Young Men belonging
to one of the Liberal Professions; how they Disported
themselves on the Ice; and how their First Visit came
to a Conclusion+ 12
CHAPTER III
+Which is all about the Law, and sundry great Authorities
learned therein+ 26
CHAPTER IV
+Describes, far more fully than the Court Newsman ever
did, a Bachelor's Party, given by Mr. Bob Sawyer at his
Lodgings in the Borough+ 43
CHAPTER V
+Mr. Weller the Elder delivers some Critical Sentiments
respecting Literary Composition; and, assisted by his
son Samuel, pays a small Instalment of Retaliation to
the Account of the Reverend Gentleman with the Red
Nose+ 59
CHAPTER VI
+Is wholly devoted to a Full and Faithful Report of the
Memorable Trial of Bardell against Pickwick+ 78
CHAPTER VII
+In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath;
and goes accordingly+ 105
CHAPTER VIII
+The Chief Features of which, will be found to be an
Authentic Version of the Legend of Prince Bladud, and
a most extraordinary Calamity that befell Mr. Winkle+ 123
CHAPTER IX
+Honourably accounts for Mr. Weller's Absence, by
describing a Soiree to which he was Invited and went;
also relates how he was entrusted by Mr. Pickwick with
a Private Mission of Delicacy and Importance+ 136
CHAPTER X
+How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan,
walked gently and comfortably into the Fire+ 151
CHAPTER XI
+Mr. Samuel Weller, being entrusted with a Mission of
Love, proceeds to Execute it; with what Success will
hereinafter appear+ 167
CHAPTER XII
+Introduces Mr. Pickwick to a New and not uninteresting
Scene in the great Drama of Life+ 184
CHAPTER XIII
+What befell Mr. Pickwick when he got into the Fleet;
what Prisoners he Saw there; and how he Passed the
Night+ 199
CHAPTER XIV
+Illustrative, like the preceding one, of the old
Proverb, That Adversity brings a Man acquainted with
Strange Bed-fellows. Likewise containing Mr. Pickwick's
extraordinary and startling Announcement to Mr. Samuel
Weller+ 214
CHAPTER XV
+Showing how Mr. Samuel Weller got into Difficulties+ 230
CHAPTER XVI
+Treats of divers little Matters which occurred in the
Fleet, and of Mr. Winkle's Mysterious Behaviour; and
shows how the poor Chancery Prisoner obtained his
Release at last+ 246
CHAPTER XVII
+Descriptive of an Affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel
Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick makes a Tour of
the Diminutive World he inhabits, and resolves to mix
with it, in future, as little as possible+ 261
CHAPTER XVIII
+Records a touching Act of delicate Feeling, not unmixed
With Pleasantry, achieved and performed by Messrs.
Dodson and Fogg+ 280
CHAPTER XIX
+Is chiefly devoted to Matters of Business, and the
Temporal Advantage of Dodson and Fogg. Mr. Winkle
reappears under Extraordinary Circumstances. Mr.
Pickwick's Benevolence proves stronger than his
Obstinacy+ 292
CHAPTER XX
+Relates how Mr. Pickwick, with the assistance of Samuel
Weller, essayed to soften the Heart of Mr. Benjamin
Allen, and to mollify the Wrath of Mr. Robert Sawyer+ 305
CHAPTER XXI
+Containing the Story of the Bagman's Uncle+ 320
CHAPTER XXII
+How Mr. Pickwick sped upon his Mission, and how he
was Reinforced in the Outset by a most unexpected
Auxiliary+ 340
CHAPTER XXIII
+In which Mr. Pickwick encounters an old Acquaintance,
to which fortunate Circumstance the Reader is mainly
indebted for Matter of thrilling Interest herein set
down, concerning two great Public Men of Might and
Power+ 357
CHAPTER XXIV
+Involving a serious Change in the Weller Family, and the
untimely Downfall of the Red-nosed Mr. Stiggins+ 374
CHAPTER XXV
+Comprising the final Exit of Mr. Jingle and Job Trotter;
with a great Morning of Business in Gray's Inn Square.
Concluding with a Double Knock at Mr. Perker's Door+ 387
CHAPTER XXVI
+Containing some Particulars relative to the Double
Knock, and other Matters: among which certain
Interesting Disclosures relative to Mr. Snodgrass and a
Young Lady are by no means irrelevant to this History+ 402
CHAPTER XXVII
+Mr. Solomon Pell, assisted by a Select Committee of
Coachmen, arranges the Affairs of the Elder Mr. Weller+ 420
CHAPTER XXVIII
+An important Conference takes place between Mr. Pickwick
and Samuel Weller, at which his Parent assists.
An old Gentleman in a Snuff-coloured Suit arrives
unexpectedly+ 434
CHAPTER XXIX
+In which the Pickwick Club is finally Dissolved, and
Everything Concluded to the Satisfaction of Everybody+ 449
ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
_"Gentlemen, what does this mean? 'Chops and Tomato
sauce. Yours, Pickwick'"_ _Frontispiece_
_A face, head, and shoulders, emerged from beneath the
water, and disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr.
Pickwick_ _Facing page_ 22
_"A what!" asked Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken
by the word. "A Walentine," replied Sam_ " 64
_Mr. Winkle took to his heels and tore round the
Crescent_ " 134
_And here, to the great horror of Mr. John Smauker, Sam
Weller began to whistle_ " 138
_"Lor', do adun, Mr. Weller!"_ " 170
_The cavalcade gave three tremendous cheers_ " 244
_"I drove the old piebald"_ " 264
_He felled Mr. Benjamin Allen to the ground_ " 310
_It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the
red-nosed man writhing in Mr. Weller's grasp_ " 386
_The admiration of numerous elderly ladies of single
condition_ " 454
IN TEXT
PAGE
_Heading to Chapter I_ 1
_Heading to Chapter II_ 12
_"Now then, sir," said Sam, "off vith you, and show 'em
how to do it"_ 18
_Went slowly and gravely down the slide_ 21
_Heading to Chapter III_ 26
_Heading to Chapter IV_ 43
_"If you'll have the kindness to settle that little bill
of mine I'll thank you"_ 46
_Heading to Chapter V_ 59
_"Is there anybody here, named Sam?"_ 60
_Heading to Chapter VI_ 78
_Heading to Chapter VII_ 105
_"Do you do anything in this way, sir?" inquired the tall
footman_ 117
_Heading to Chapter VIII_ 123
_Heading to Chapter IX_ 136
_Heading to Chapter X_ 151
_"You've been stopping to over all the posts in Bristol"_ 156
_Heading to Chapter XI_ 167
_Heading to Chapter XII_ 184
_"Take your hat off"_ 187
_Heading to Chapter XIII_ 199
_"Come on--both of you"_ 209
_Heading to Chapter XIV_ 214
_Heading to Chapter XV_ 230
_After a violent struggle, released his head and face_ 236
_Heading to Chapter XVI_ 246
_Heading to Chapter XVII_ 261
_Heading to Chapter XVIII_ 280
_A shabby man in black leggings_ 287
_Heading to Chapter XIX_ 292
_Heading to Chapter XX_ 305
_Heading to Chapter XXI_ 320
_"My uncle gave a loud stamp on the boot in the energy of
the moment"_ 338
_Heading to Chapter XXII_ 340
_Mr. Winkle senior_ 352
_Heading to Chapter XXIII_ 357
_Heading to Chapter XXIV_ 374
_Heading to Chapter XXV_ 387
_Heading to Chapter XXVI_ 402
_His jolly red face shining with smiles and health_ 404
_Pointed with his thumb over his shoulder_ 416
_Heading to Chapter XXVII_ 420
_A cold collation of an Abernethy biscuit and a saveloy_ 423
_Heading to Chapter XXVIII_ 434
_A little old gentleman in a suit of snuff-coloured
clothes_ 444
_Dismissed him with a harmless but ceremonious kick_ 448
_Heading to Chapter XXIX_ 449
_"The happiness of young people," said Mr. Pickwick, a
little moved, "has ever been the chief pleasure of my
life"_ 451
_Exchanged his old costume for the ordinary dress of
Englishmen_ 455
_Tailpiece to Chapter XXIX_ 457
CHAPTER I
_The Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton_
[Illustration]
"In an old abbey town, down in this part of the country, a long, long
while ago--so long, that the story must be a true one, because our
great-grandfathers implicitly believed it--there officiated as sexton
and grave-digger in the churchyard, one Gabriel Grub. It by no means
follows that because a man is a sexton, and constantly surrounded
by the emblems of mortality, therefore he should be a morose and
melancholy man; your undertakers are the merriest fellows in the world;
and I once had the honour of being on intimate terms with a mute, who
in private life, and off duty, was as comical and jocose a little
fellow as ever chirped out a devil-may-care song, without a hitch in
his memory, or drained off the contents of a good stiff glass without
stopping for breath. But, notwithstanding these precedents to the
contrary, Gabriel Grub was an ill-conditioned, cross-grained, surly
fellow--a morose and lonely man, who consorted with nobody but himself,
and an old wicker bottle which fitted into his large deep waistcoat
pocket--and who eyed each merry face, as it passed him by, with such
a deep scowl of malice and ill-humour, as it was difficult to meet,
without feeling something the worse for.
"A little before twilight, one Christmas Eve, Gabriel shouldered
his spade, lighted his lantern, and betook himself towards the old
churchyard; for he had got a grave to finish by next morning, and,
feeling very low, he thought it might raise his spirits, perhaps, if
he went on with his work at once. As he went his way, up the ancient
street, he saw the cheerful light of blazing fires gleam through
the old casements, and heard the loud laugh and the cheerful shouts
of those who were assembled around them; he marked the bustling
preparations for next day's cheer, and smelt the numerous savoury
odours consequent thereupon, as they steamed up from the kitchen
windows in clouds. All this was gall and wormwood to the heart of
Gabriel Grub: and when groups of children bounded out of the houses,
tripped across the road, and were met, before they could knock at the
opposite door, by half a dozen curly-headed little rascals who crowded
round them as they flocked up-stairs to spend the evening in their
Christmas games, Gabriel smiled grimly, and clutched the handle of his
spade with a firmer grasp, as he thought of measles, scarlet-fever,
thrush, hooping-cough, and a good many other sources of consolation
besides.
"In this happy frame of mind, Gabriel strode along: returning a short,
sullen growl to the good-humoured greetings of such of his neighbours
as now and then passed him: until he turned into the dark lane which
led to the churchyard. Now, Gabriel had been looking forward to
reaching the dark lane, because it was, generally speaking, a nice,
gloomy, mournful place, into which the townspeople did not much
care to go, except in broad daylight, and when the sun was shining;
consequently, he was not a little indignant to hear a young urchin
roaring out some jolly song about a merry Christmas, in this very
sanctuary, which had been called Coffin Lane ever since the days of the
old abbey, and the time of the shaven-headed monks. As Gabriel walked
on, and the voice drew nearer, he found it proceeded from a small boy,
who was hurrying along, to join one of the little parties in the old
street, and who, partly to keep himself company, and partly to prepare
himself for the occasion, was shouting out the song at the highest
pitch of his lungs. So Gabriel waited until the boy came up, and then
dodged him into a corner, and rapped him over the head with his lantern
five or six times, to teach him to modulate his voice. And as the boy
hurried away with his hand to his head, singing quite a different sort
of tune, Gabriel Grub chuckled very heartily to himself, and entered
the churchyard: locking the gate behind him.
"He took off his coat, put down his lantern, and getting into the
unfinished grave, worked at it for an hour or so, with right good
will. But the earth was hardened with the frost, and it was no very
easy matter to break it up, and shovel it out; and although there
was a moon, it was a very young one, and shed little light upon the
grave, which was in the shadow of the church. At any other time, these
obstacles would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and miserable, but
he was so well pleased with having stopped the small boy's singing,
that he took little heed of the scanty progress he had made, and looked
down into the grave, when he had finished work for the night, with grim
satisfaction: murmuring as he gathered up his things:
'Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one,
A few feet of cold earth, when life is done;
A stone at the head, a stone at the feet,
A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat;
Rank grass over head, and damp clay around,
Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground!'
"'Ho! ho!' laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself down on a flat
tombstone which was a favourite resting-place of his; and drew forth
his wicker bottle. 'A coffin at Christmas! A Christmas Box. Ho! ho! ho!'
"'Ho! ho! ho!' repeated a voice which sounded close behind him.
"Gabriel paused, in some alarm, in the act of raising the wicker bottle
to his lips: and looked round. The bottom of the oldest grave about him
was not more still and quiet than the churchyard in the pale moonlight.
The cold hoar-frost glistened on the tombstones, and sparkled like rows
of gems, among the stone carvings of the old church. The snow lay hard
and crisp upon the ground; and spread over the thickly-strewn mounds of
earth, so white and smooth a cover, that it seemed as if corpses lay
there, hidden only by their winding-sheets. Not the faintest rustle
broke the profound tranquillity of the solemn scene. Sound itself
appeared to be frozen up, all was so cold and still.
"'It was the echoes,' said Gabriel Grub, raising the bottle to his lips
again.
"'It was _not_,' said a deep voice.
"Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with astonishment and
terror; for his eyes rested on a form that made his blood run cold.
"Seated on an upright tombstone, close to him, was a strange unearthly
figure, whom Gabriel felt at once, was no being of this world. His long
fantastic legs, which might have reached the ground, were cocked up,
and crossed after a quaint, fantastic fashion; his sinewy arms were
bare; and his hands rested on his knees. On his short round body, he
wore a close covering, ornamented with small slashes; a short cloak
dangled at his back; the collar was cut into curious peaks, which
served the goblin in lieu of ruff or neckerchief; and his shoes curled
up at his toes into long points. On his head he wore a broad-brimmed
sugar-loaf hat, garnished with a single feather. The hat was covered
with the white frost; and the goblin looked as if he had sat on the
same tombstone, very comfortably, for two or three hundred years. He
was sitting perfectly still; his tongue was put out, as if in derision;
and he was grinning at Gabriel Grub with such a grin as only a goblin
could call up.
"'It was _not_ the echoes,' said the goblin.
"Gabriel Grub was paralysed, and could make no reply.
"'What do you do here on Christmas Eve?' said the goblin, sternly.
"'I came to dig a grave, sir,' stammered Gabriel Grub.
"'What man wanders among graves and churchyards on such a night as
this?' cried the goblin.
"'Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!' screamed a wild chorus of voices that
seemed to fill the churchyard. Gabriel looked fearfully round--nothing
was to be seen.
"'What have you got in that bottle?' said the goblin.
"'Hollands, sir,' replied the sexton, trembling more than ever; for
he had bought it of the smugglers, and he thought that perhaps his
questioner might be in the excise department of the goblins.
"'Who drinks Hollands alone, and in the churchyard, on such a night as
this?' said the goblin.
"'Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!' exclaimed the wild voices again.
"The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified sexton, and then
raising his voice exclaimed:
"'And who, then, is our fair and lawful prize?'
"To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, in a strain that sounded
like the voices of many choristers singing to the mighty swell of the
old church organ--a strain that seemed borne to the sexton's ears upon
a wild wind, and to die away as it passed onward; but the burden of the
reply was still the same, 'Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!'
"The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, as he said, 'Well,
Gabriel, what do you say to this?'
"The sexton gasped for breath.
"'What do you think of this, Gabriel?' said the goblin, kicking up
his feet in the air on either side of the tombstone, and looking
at the turned-up points with as much complacency as if he had been
contemplating the most fashionable pair of Wellingtons in all Bond
Street.
"'It's--it's--very curious, sir,' replied the sexton, half dead with
fright; 'very curious, and very pretty, but I think I'll go back and
finish my work, sir, if you please.'
"'Work!' said the goblin, 'what work?'
"'The grave, sir; making the grave,' stammered the sexton.
"'Oh, the grave, eh?' said the goblin; 'who makes graves at a time when
all other men are merry, and takes a pleasure in it?'
"Again the mysterious voices replied, 'Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!'
"'I'm afraid my friends want you, Gabriel,' said the goblin, thrusting
his tongue further into his cheek than ever--and a most astonishing
tongue it was--'I'm afraid my friends want you, Gabriel,' said the
goblin.
"'Under favour, sir,' replied the horror-stricken sexton, 'I don't
think they can, sir; they don't know me, sir; I don't think the
gentlemen have ever seen me, sir.'
"'Oh yes, they have,' replied the goblin; 'we know the man with the
sulky face and grim scowl, that came down the street to-night, throwing
his evil looks at the children, and grasping his burying-spade the
tighter. We know the man who struck the boy in the envious malice of
his heart, because the boy could be merry, and he could not. We know
him, we know him.'
"Here the goblin gave a loud shrill laugh, which the echoes returned
twenty-fold: and throwing his legs up in the air, stood upon his head,
or rather upon the very point of his sugar-loaf hat, on the narrow
edge of the tombstone: whence he threw a somerset with extraordinary
agility, right to the sexton's feet, at which he planted himself in the
attitude in which tailors generally sit upon the shop-board.
"'I--I--am afraid I must leave you, sir,' said the sexton, making an
effort to move.
"'Leave us!' said the goblin, 'Gabriel Grub going to leave us. Ho! ho!
ho!'
"As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed, for one instant, a
brilliant illumination within the windows of the church, as if the
whole building were lighted up; it disappeared, the organ pealed forth
a lively air, and whole troops of goblins, the very counterpart of the
first one, poured into the churchyard, and began playing at leap-frog
with the tombstones: never stopping for an instant to take breath, but
'overing' the highest among them, one after the other, with the utmost
marvellous dexterity. The first goblin was a most astonishing leaper,
and none of the others could come near him; even in the extremity of
his terror the sexton could not help observing, that while his friends
were content to leap over the common-sized gravestones, the first one
took the family vaults, iron railings and all, with as much ease as if
they had been so many street posts.
"At last the game reached to a most exciting pitch; the organ played
quicker and quicker; and the goblins leaped faster and faster: coiling
themselves up, rolling head over heels upon the ground, and bounding
over the tombstones like footballs. The sexton's brain whirled round
with the rapidity of the motion he beheld, and his legs reeled beneath
him, as the spirits flew before his eyes: when the goblin king,
suddenly darting towards him, laid his hand upon his collar, and sank
with him through the earth.
"When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his breath, which the rapidity
of his descent had for the moment taken away, he found himself in what
appeared to be a huge cavern, surrounded on all sides by crowds of
goblins, ugly and grim; in the centre of the room, on an elevated seat,
was stationed his friend of the churchyard; and close beside him stood
Gabriel Grub himself, without power of motion.
"'Cold to-night,' said the king of the goblins, 'very cold. A glass of
something warm, here!'
"At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, with a perpetual
smile upon their faces, whom Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers, on
that account, hastily disappeared, and presently returned with a goblet
of liquid fire, which they presented to the king.
"'Ah!' cried the goblin, whose cheeks and throat were transparent, as
he tossed down the flame, 'this warms one, indeed! Bring a bumper of
the same for Mr. Grub.'
"It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest that he was not
in the habit of taking anything warm at night; one of the goblins held
him while another poured the blazing liquid down his throat; the whole
assembly screeched with laughter as he coughed and choked, and wiped
away the tears which gushed plentifully from his eyes, after swallowing
the burning draught.
"'And now,' said the king, fantastically poking the taper corner of his
sugar-loaf hat into the sexton's eye, and thereby occasioning him the
most exquisite pain: 'And now, show the man of misery and gloom, a few
of the pictures from our own great storehouse!'
"As the goblin said this, a thick cloud which obscured the remoter
end of the cavern rolled gradually away, and disclosed, apparently at
a great distance, a small and scantily furnished, but neat and clean
apartment. A crowd of little children were gathered round a bright
fire, clinging to their mother's gown, and gambolling around her chair.
The mother occasionally rose, and drew aside the window-curtain, as if
to look for some expected object; a frugal meal was ready spread upon
the table; and an elbow chair was placed near the fire. A knock was
heard at the door: the mother opened it, and the children crowded round
her, and clapped their hands for joy, as their father entered. He was
wet and weary, and shook the snow from his garments, as the children
crowded round him, and seizing his cloak, hat, stick, and gloves,
with busy zeal, ran with them from the room. Then, as he sat down to
his meal before the fire, the children climbed about his knee, and the
mother sat by his side, and all seemed happiness and comfort.
"But a change came upon the view, almost imperceptibly. The scene was
altered to a small bed-room, where the fairest and youngest child lay
dying; the roses had fled from his cheek, and the light from his eye;
and even as the sexton looked upon him with an interest he had never
felt or known before, he died. His young brothers and sisters crowded
round his little bed, and seized his tiny hand, so cold and heavy; but
they shrunk back from its touch, and looked with awe on his infant
face; for calm and tranquil as it was, and sleeping in rest and peace
as the beautiful child seemed to be, they saw that he was dead, and
they knew that he was an Angel looking down upon, and blessing them,
from a bright and happy Heaven.
"Again the light cloud passed across the picture, and again the subject
changed. The father and mother were old and helpless now, and the
number of those about them was diminished more than half; but content
and cheerfulness sat on every face, and beamed in every eye, as they
crowded round the fireside, and told and listened to old stories of
earlier and bygone days. Slowly and peacefully the father sank into
the grave, and, soon after, the sharer of all his cares and troubles
followed him to a place of rest. The few, who yet survived them, knelt
by their tomb, and watered the green turf which covered it, with their
tears; then rose, and turned away: sadly and mournfully, but not with
bitter cries, or despairing lamentations, for they knew that they
should one day meet again; and once more they mixed with the busy
world, and their content and cheerfulness were restored. The cloud
settled upon the picture, and concealed it from the sexton's view.
"'What do you think of _that_?' said the goblin, turning his large face
towards Gabriel Grub.
"Gabriel murmured out something about its being very pretty, and looked
somewhat ashamed, as the goblin bent his fiery eyes upon him.
"'_You_ a miserable man!' said the goblin, in a tone of excessive
contempt. 'You!' He appeared disposed to add more, but indignation
choked his utterance, so he lifted up one of his very pliable legs, and
flourishing it above his head a little, to insure his aim, administered
a good sound kick to Gabriel Grub; immediately after which, all the
goblins in waiting crowded round the wretched sexton, and kicked him
without mercy: according to the established and invariable custom of
courtiers upon earth, who kick whom royalty kicks, and hug whom royalty
hugs.
"'Show him some more!' said the king of the goblins.
"At these words, the cloud was dispelled, and a rich and beautiful
landscape was disclosed to view--there is just such another to this
day, within half a mile of the old abbey town. The sun shone from
out the clear blue sky, the water sparkled beneath his rays, and the
trees looked greener, and the flowers more gay, beneath his cheering
influence. The water rippled on, with a pleasant sound; the trees
rustled in the light wind that murmured among their leaves; the birds
sang upon the boughs; and the lark carolled on high, her welcome to the
morning. Yes, it was morning: the bright, balmy morning of summer; the
minutest leaf, the smallest blade of grass, was instinct with life.
The ant crept forth to her daily toil, the butterfly fluttered and
basked in the warm rays of the sun; myriads of insects spread their
transparent wings, and revelled in their brief but happy existence.
Man walked forth, elated with the scene; and all was brightness and
splendour.
"'_You_ a miserable man!' said the king of the goblins, in a more
contemptuous tone than before. And again the king of the goblins gave
his leg a flourish; again it descended on the shoulders of the sexton;
and again the attendant goblins imitated the example of their chief.
"Many a time the cloud went and came, and many a lesson it taught to
Gabriel Grub, who, although his shoulders smarted with pain from the
frequent applications of the goblins' feet, looked on with an interest
that nothing could diminish. He saw that men who worked hard, and
earned their scanty bread with lives of labour, were cheerful and
happy; and that to the most ignorant, the sweet face of nature was a
never-failing source of cheerfulness and joy. He saw those who had
been delicately nurtured, and tenderly brought up, cheerful under
privations, and superior to suffering, that would have crushed many
of a rougher grain, because they bore within their own bosoms the
materials of happiness, contentment, and peace. He saw that women, the
tenderest and most fragile of all God's creatures, were the oftenest
superior to sorrow, adversity, and distress; and he saw that it was
because they bore in their own hearts, an inexhaustible well-spring of
affection and devotion. Above all, he saw that men like himself, who
snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness of others, were the foulest weeds
on the fair face of the earth; and setting all the good of the world
against the evil, he came to the conclusion that it was a very decent
and respectable sort of world after all. No sooner had he formed it,
than the cloud which closed over the last picture, seemed to settle on
his senses, and lull him to repose. One by one the goblins faded from
his sight; and as the last one disappeared, he sunk to sleep.
"The day had broken when Gabriel Grub awoke, and found himself lying,
at full length, on the flat grave-stone in the churchyard with the
wicker bottle lying empty by his side, and his coat, spade, and
lantern, all well whitened by the last night's frost, scattered on
the ground. The stone on which he had first seen the goblin seated,
stood bolt upright before him, and the grave at which he had worked,
the night before, was not far off. At first, he began to doubt the
reality of his adventures, but the acute pain in his shoulders when
he attempted to rise, assured him that the kicking of the goblins was
certainly not ideal. He was staggered again, by observing no traces of
footsteps in the snow, on which the goblins had played at leap-frog
with the grave-stones, but he speedily accounted for this circumstance
when he remembered that, being spirits, they would leave no visible
impression behind them. So, Gabriel Grub got on his feet as well as he
could, for the pain in his back; and brushing the frost off his coat,
put it on, and turned his face towards the town.
"But he was an altered man, and he could not bear the thought of
returning to a place where his repentance would be scoffed at, and his
reformation disbelieved. He hesitated for a few moments; and then
turned away to wander where he might, and seek his bread elsewhere.
"The lantern, the spade, and the wicker bottle, were found, that day,
in the churchyard. There were a great many speculations about the
sexton's fate, at first, but it was speedily determined that he had
been carried away by the goblins; and there were not wanting some
very credible witnesses who had distinctly seen him whisked through
the air on the back of a chestnut horse blind of one eye, with the
hind-quarters of a lion, and the tail of a bear. At length all this was
devoutly believed; and the new sexton used to exhibit to the curious,
for a trifling emolument, a good-sized piece of the church weathercock
which had been accidentally kicked off by the aforesaid horse in his
aërial flight, and picked up by himself in the churchyard, a year or
two afterwards.
"Unfortunately, these stories were somewhat disturbed by the
unlooked-for reappearance of Gabriel Grub himself, some ten years
afterwards, a ragged, contented, rheumatic old man. He told his story
to the clergyman, and also to the mayor; and in course of time it began
to be received as a matter of history, in which form it has continued
down to this very day. The believers in the weathercock tale, having
misplaced their confidence once, were not easily prevailed upon to
part with it again, so they looked as wise as they could, shrugged
their shoulders, touched their foreheads, and murmured something about
Gabriel Grub having drunk all the Hollands, and then fallen asleep
on the flat tombstone; and they affected to explain what he supposed
he had witnessed in the goblins' cavern, by saying that he had seen
the world, and grown wiser. But this opinion, which was by no means a
popular one at any time, gradually died off; and be the matter how it
may, as Gabriel Grub was afflicted with rheumatism to the end of his
days, this story has at least one moral, if it teach no better one--and
that is, that if a man turn sulky and drink by himself at Christmas
time, he may make up his mind to be not a bit the better for it: let
the spirits be never so good, or let them be even as many degrees
beyond proof, as those which Gabriel Grub saw in the goblins' cavern."