"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had
been done ample justice to, "what say you to an
hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time."
"Capital," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"Prime," ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 5
"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
"Ye--yes; oh, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am
rather out of practice."
"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to
see it so much." 10
"Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady.
A third young lady said it was "elegant," and a fourth expressed
her opinion that it was "swanlike."
"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle,
reddening; "but I have no skates." 15
This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a
couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were
half a dozen more in the house; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed
exquisite delight and looked exquisitely uncomfortable. 5
Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
forced a gimlet into the soles of his feet, put his skates on
with the points behind, and got the straps into a very
complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of
Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a 10
Hindu. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr.
Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and
buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.
"Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off
with you, and show 'em how to do it." 15
"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently
and clutching hold of Sam's arm with the grasp of a drowning
man. "How slippery it is, Sam."
"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr.
Weller. "Hold up, sir." 20
This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a
demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic
desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the back of his
head on the ice.
"These--these--are very awkward skates, ain't they, 25
Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.
"I'm afraid there's an awkward gentleman in 'em, sir,"
replied Sam.
"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious
that there was anything the matter. "Come, the ladies 30
are all anxiety."
"Yes, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle with a ghastly smile.
"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage
himself. "Now, sir, start off."
"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging
most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a
couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may 5
have them, Sam."
"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle
hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to do that.
I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a 10
Christmas box, Sam; I'll give it to you this afternoon,
Sam."
"You're very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
"Just hold me at first, Sam, will you?" said Mr. Winkle.
"There--that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, 15
Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast."
Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled
up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller in a very
singular and unswanlike manner when Mr. Pickwick most
innocently shouted from the opposite bank, 20
"Sam!"
"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.
"Here. I want you."
"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor
a callin'? Let go, sir." 25
With a violent effort Mr. Weller disengaged himself from
the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian; and in so doing
administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr.
Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or
practice could have insured, that gentleman bore swiftly 30
down into the center of a group at the very moment when
Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled
beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a
wild crash they fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the
spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle
was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He
was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile; 5
but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.
Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned
to Mr. Weller and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates
off." 10
"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated
Mr. Winkle.
"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.
The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle
allowed Sam to obey it in silence. 15
"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him
to rise.
Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders,
and beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a
searching look upon him and uttered in a low but distinct 20
and emphatic tone these remarkable words:
"You're a humbug, sir."
"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer if you wish it.
An impostor, sir." 25
With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his
heel and rejoined his friends.
While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment
just recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by
their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were exercising themselves 30
thereupon in a very masterly and brilliant manner.
Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying that beautiful
feat of fancy sliding which is currently denominated "knocking
at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming
over the ice on one foot and occasionally giving a two-penny
postman's knock upon it with the other. It was
a good long slide, and there was something in the motion 5
which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still,
could not help envying.
"It looks a nice warm exercise, that, doesn't it?" he
inquired of Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly
out of breath by reason of the indefatigable manner in 10
which he had converted his legs into a pair of compasses
and drawn complicated problems on the ice.
"Ah, it does, indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"
"I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy,"
replied Mr. Pickwick. 15
"Try it now," said Wardle.
Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves
and put them in his hat, took two or three short runs,
balked himself as often, and at last took another run and
went slowly and gravely down the slide with his feet about 20
a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of
all the spectators.
It was the most intensely interesting thing to observe
the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share
in the ceremony; to watch the torture of anxiety with 25
which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon him at
the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him
gradually expend the painful force which he had put on
at first and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face
towards the point from which he had started; to contemplate 30
the playful smile which mantled on his face when he had
accomplished the distance and the eagerness with which he
turned round when he had done so and ran after his predecessor,
his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through
the snow and his eyes beaming cheerfulness and gladness
through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down
(which happened upon the average every third round), 5
it was the most invigorating sight that can possibly be
imagined to behold him gather up his hat, gloves, and
handkerchief with a glowing countenance, and resume
his station in the rank with an ardor and enthusiasm which
nothing could abate. 10
The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest,
the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp, smart
crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards the bank,
a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman.
A large mass of ice disappeared, the water bubbled 15
up over it, and Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief
were floating on the surface; and this was all of Mr.
Pickwick that anybody could see.
Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance;
the males turned pale, and the females fainted; Mr. Snodgrass 20
and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by the hand and
gazed at the spot where their leader had gone down, with
frenzied eagerness; while Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering
the promptest assistance and at the same time conveying
to any persons who might be within hearing the clearest 25
possible notion of the catastrophe, ran off across the country
at his utmost speed, screaming "Fire!" with all his
might and main.
It was at this very moment--when old Wardle and Sam
Weller were approaching the hole with cautious steps and 30
Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a hurried consultation
with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding the
company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
practice--it was at this very moment that a head, face,
and shoulders emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed
the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick.
"Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said Wardle. 5
"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the
water from his head and face and gasping for breath. "I
fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first."
The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet
visible bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement; 10
and as the fears of the spectators were still further relieved
by the fat boy's suddenly recollecting that the water was
nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies of valor were
performed to get him out. After a vast quantity of splashing,
and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at 15
length fairly extricated from his unpleasant position and
once more stood on dry land.
--_Pickwick Papers._
1. The members of the Pickwick Club herein
presented are Mr. Pickwick, a heavy, pompous,
dignified gentleman, and three friends, Messrs.
Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman. Characterize each.
Weller is a guide-valet. _Pickwick Papers_ records
the experiences of the Club during a series of
tours.