Chapter 39 Chapter 38

Mr. Winkle climbed out of the frying pan, but stepped freely and cheerfully into the fire pit It was the misfortune of that unlucky gentleman to cause a disturbance not simple, and disturb the inhabitants of Crescent Street in the manner described above.And he spent the night in great fear and anxiety, so he left the room where his friends were still sleeping, and he didn't know where he was going.The goodness and prudence which prompted Mr. Winkel to take this step can never be overvalued or appreciated too warmly. "Suppose," Mr. Winkle mused, "if this Dora really wants (and I believe he will) to carry out his threats of violence against me, then theoretically I am obliged to call him out. He has a wife; that wife belongs to him, and depends on him. Good God! If I had killed him in my furious rampage, would I have been in the same mood for the rest of my life!" This painful consideration was in the kindly youth's mind. Man's emotions play such a strong role that his knees knock against each other, and his face shows the expression of inner emotional terror.Beguiled by such considerations, he seized his luggage, crept down the stairs, closed the obnoxious door as softly as he could, and went away.Walking towards the Royal Hotel, he saw a carriage going to Brestol; he felt that it would be the same for him in Brestol or elsewhere, so he climbed into the throne and let every horse-drawn carriage go to Brestol. The horses, which make two round trips a day on this route, brought him to his destination.

He took a room at the Bush Hotel; intending to withhold Mr. Pickwick's correspondence till Mr. Dowra's anger might have somewhat dissipated; so he wanted to go out and see the city, but he was not impressed by it. It was the filthiest place he had ever seen.He observed the docks and ships, saw the cathedral, asked the way to Clifton, and followed directions.But just as Brest's sidewalks are not the widest and cleanest in the world, so its streets are not at all the straightest or the best curvy; Mr. Winkel is confused by their innumerable roundabouts , looking around to find a suitable shop to inquire about the road.

His eye fell on a freshly painted house, recently remodeled, which was part shop part house; The lack of "SURGICAL" in gold on the top of the windows on the wainscots was sufficient proof that it was the residence of a medical practitioner.Mr. Winkle thought it a more appropriate place to ask directions, and stepped into the shop where the drawers and bottles with gold labels were; The lettering—this is the white color of the paint so as not to look monotonous—so he concluded that it was a bedroom, or someone was in it, so he tapped a half-gram silver coin on the counter to attract everyone's attention.

After knocking for the first time, there was a sound like someone fighting with tongs and chopsticks that could be clearly heard before, and suddenly stopped; after knocking for the second time, a man wearing green glasses and holding a large A hard-working young man with a thick book slid into the shop quietly, and went behind the counter to ask the visitors what they were doing. "I'm sorry to trouble you, sir," said Mr. Winkle, "may I ask you to advise—" "Ha! Ha! Ha!" The diligent young gentleman laughed, threw the big book in his hand into the sky, and caught it skillfully when it fell and was about to smash all the bottles on the counter. "Weird!"

Strange, no doubt; Mr. Winkle, surprised at the abrupt behavior of the medical gentleman, backed away involuntarily towards the door, bewildered by the strange reception. "Why, don't you know me?" said the medical gentleman. Mr. Winkle replied curtly that he had not met him. "Well," said the medical gentleman, "I've got hope; half the old women in Brestol will probably see me, if I'm lucky. Go away, you boring old rascal, go away." !” The last stern order of the medical gentleman was addressed to the large book, which he kicked very nimbly behind the back end of the shop, took off his green spectacles, and grinned with teeth; Mr. Robert Sawyer of Lant Street, who used to be at Guy's Hospital in Poirot.

"Aren't you here to attack me?" said Mr. Bob Sawyer, shaking Mr. Winkle's hand very warmly. "I'm not," replied Mr. Winkle, returning the pressure. "I don't know why you didn't see the name," said Bob Sawyer, drawing his friend's attention to the words painted in white on the gate, "Sawyer, Ex-Nokmov." "They certainly did not attract my attention," replied Mr. Winkle. "God, if I knew it was you, I'd come out and hug you," Bob Sawyer said. "But on my life, I thought it was the tax collector."

"Really!" said Mr. Winkle. "I really think so," replied Bob Sawyer, "I was going to say I wasn't home, and if you want to leave a message, I can certainly pass it on to myself; for he doesn't know me: gas and The road company didn't know me either. I think the church collectors could guess which one I belonged to, and I know the water company knew me because I pulled one for him when I first got here. a tooth.—but come in, come in!" so muttering Mr. Bob Sawyer, he drew Mr. Winkle into a back room, where sat a gentleman with a red-hot The poker for fun poking holes in the mantelpiece was none other than Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"Well," said Mr. Winkle, "this is a delight I hadn't thought of. What a place you have!" "Crow, croak," Bob Sawyer replied. "I came in soon after that precious party. My friends scraped me together the necessities for my opening; so I put on a black suit and a pair of spectacles, and all I had to do to get here was to pretend A dignified look will do." "And you're doing very well, no doubt?" said Mr. Winkle, remarkably. "Very well," Bob Sawyer replied. "That's good, and after a few years you can put all your profits in a bottle, and seal them with a raspberry leaf."

"You're telling the truth, aren't you?" said Mr. Buckle. "The goods are—" "Empty plan, my good friend," said Bob Sawyer, "half the drawers are empty, and the other half won't open." "nonsense!" "Facts—Take credit 2," replied Bob Sawyer, stepping out into the shop, and to confirm the veracity of his statement, tugged hard several times on the gilded knobs of the pretend drawers. "What's really in the shop is pretty much just water frogs, and they're second-hand." "I really didn't think of that!" exclaimed Mr. Winkle in the utmost astonishment.

"I hope so," replied Bob Sawyer, "otherwise what's the use of pretense, eh? But what'd you drink? The same as we do?—Yes. Ben, my good man, Reach into the cupboard and get out the brandy." Mr. Benjamin Allen nodded his assent with a smile, and took a black bottle half full of brandy from a closet at his elbow. "You don't flush, do you?" Bob Sawyer said. "Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle. "It's still early, I'd be happy to tone it down a bit, if you have no disagreement." "No objection at all, so long as you're comfortable with it," replied Bob Sawyer; and drank a glass with great relish. "Ban, little pot!"

From the same secret place, Mr. Benjamin Allen produced a small brass kettle; Bob Sawyer was seen to be proud of it, especially because it seemed to suit the style of his business.Then Mr. Bob Sawyer shoveled out a few spadefuls of coal from a useful window seat labeled "Soda Water," and in a short time boiled the water in the copper pot of business. Afterwards, Mr. Winkle rushed his brandy; and as the conversation developed rapidly among the three, it was suddenly interrupted by the entry of a boy in a sober gray uniform and a gold-brimmed hat, with arms crooked. There was a little basket with a lid in it; and when Mr. Bob Sawyer saw him, he called out, "Tom, you have nothing to do, come." The child is coming here. "You lean on all the lampposts in Brestol, you lazy little rascal!" said Bob Sawyer. "No, sir, I haven't," answered the boy. "You shouldn't!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with an air of menace. "People see a medical practitioner whose buddy is always playing billiards in the gutter or skipping rope on the road. No one will come to consult such a medical practitioner. Don't you have any affection for your profession? You despicable thing? You put the medicine Did you send them all away?" "Send it, sir." "Powders for children are sent to the mansion where the new family lives, and pills for four meals a day are sent to a grumpy old gentleman with a gouty leg, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "Then close the door and go to the shop." "Well," said Mr. Winkle after the boy was out, "it's not as bad as you want me to think it is. There's some medicine going out." Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced into the shop, saw that they were all acquaintances, and leaned over to Mr. Winkle and whispered: "He sent all the medicine to the wrong people." Mr. Winkle was puzzled, and Bob Sawyer and his friends laughed. "Don't you understand?" Bob said. "He went to a house, rang the bell, put a packet of medicine without a name and address in the servant's hand, and left. The servant took the medicine to the dining room, and the master opened it to read the sign, 'The medicine is taken at bedtime. —Pills as before—washing detergent as usual—powder. Dr. Sawyer made up the recipe,’ and so on. He showed it to his wife—she read the slip; passed it to the servants—they read it too The next day the kid came to the door: 'I'm sorry—his mistake—business is too busy—lots of medicine to deliver—Mr. Sawyer's compliments.' And the name spread; Way, my friend; God, old friend, that's the best advertisement in the world. We've got a four-ounce bottle that's gone to half the homes in Brestol, and it's not finished yet. "Oh, I see," said Mr. Winkle. "What a plan!" "Well, Ben and I figured out a lot of that," replied Bob Sawyer, triumphantly. "The lamplighter gets eighteenpence a week and rings the night bell for ten minutes every time he comes here on the night watch. My clerk keeps coming to church with a frightened look to call me out, singing Before the Psalm, because then people had nothing to do but look around. 'Oh,' everybody said, 'somebody's got sick? Come get Sawyer. What a good business that young man is doing!'" So many secrets of the medical world were revealed that Mr. Bob Sawyer and his friend Ben Ellen each threw back their chairs and laughed wildly.When they had had their fill of laughing, the conversation turned to matters of greater interest to Mr. Winkle. Remember we have hinted elsewhere that Mr. Benjamin Allen had a very sentimental habit of drinking brandy.It's not unique to him, as we can attest to ourselves, as we have occasionally dealt with people who fall into the same trap.Mr. Benjamin Allen at this period, perhaps, was more prone to drunkenness than before; the reason for this trouble is very simple: he has lived with Mr. Bob Sawyer for about three weeks; Mr. Sawyer was not very temperate, and Mr. Benjamin Allen was not very sane, so throughout the whole period mentioned above, Mr. Benjamin Allen was only oscillating between drunk and drunk. That's all. "My dear friend," said Mr. Ben Allen, while Bob Sawyer was briefly behind the counter to give away some of the used water frogs mentioned above, "my dear friend, I am very poor Ah." Mr Winkel said he felt sorry for him, and asked if there was anything he could do to lessen the grief of the distressed student. "There's nothing you can do, my good friend—impossible," Ben said. "Do you remember Alabella, Winkle—my sister Alabella—the dark-eyed girl—we were at the Wardles then I don't know if you noticed her—yes A lovely girl, Winkle, perhaps my face will remind you of hers?" Mr. Winkle did not need anything to remind him of the pretty Alabella; and that was fortunate for him, for the looks of her brother Benjamin were not necessarily a desirable restorative to his memory. Woolen cloth.He replied, with as much affect of composure as he could, that he remembered the lady well, and believed her to be as healthy as ever. "Our friend Bob is a jolly fellow, Winkle," was Ben Allen's only reply. "Happy," said Mr. Winkle; not very fond of hearing those two names joined together. "I intended them to be a couple; they were made for each other, and they were a match, Winkle," said Mr. Ben Allen, putting down his glass with great effort. "There's a special determinism in that, my good sir; there's a difference of five years between them, and both have an August birthday." Winkle was too eager to hear the rest of the story to express much surprise at the unusual coincidence, though interesting; Inexplicably and unfriendlyly, Arabella expressed a steadfast abhorrence for his friend. "I think," concluded Mr. Ben Ellen, "I think it's an antecedental love." "Do you know who it is?" asked Mr. Winkle, worried. Mr. Ben Ellen seized the torch, swung it in a fighting stance, and slapped an imaginary head viciously over his head, and said, emphatically, that he wished he could Guess who it is - that's good. "I'll let him know what I've done to him," said Mr. Ben Ellen, swinging the poker back, more viciously than ever. All this, of course, was very comforting to Mr. Winkle's feelings; he was silent for some minutes; "No, no," said Mr. Ben Ellen, putting the poker aside with an air of certainty: "I don't think Wardle's is a place for a stubborn girl; therefore, Since I was her natural protector after the death of her parents, I will bring her here, to spend a few months in the comfort and isolation of an old aunt. If that does not work, I will take her abroad. Give it a try sometime.” "Oh, is this aunt in Brestol?" said Mr. Winkle hesitantly. "No, no—not at Brestol," replied Mr. Ben Ellen, pointing suddenly over his right shoulder with his thumb: "over there—that side. But don't say it, Bob." Not a word, my good friend: not a word." The conversation, short as it was, aroused Mr. Winkle's excitement and uneasiness.That so-called prior love made his heart ache.Could he be the object of this love?Could it be for him that the beautiful Arabella dismissed the vivacious Bob Sawyer, or did he have another rival?He resolved to see her, at any cost; but here came an insurmountable obstacle, where was Mr. Ben Ellen's so-called "over there" and "that side," three miles, thirty miles, It's still three hundred miles, he can't guess at all. But at this time he had no time to think of his love, for Bob Sawyer's return was the immediate cause of a patty from the baker, and the gentleman insisted on keeping him to share.The tablecloth was laid by a maid, whose job it was to be Mr. Bob Sawyer's housekeeper; a third set of knives and forks was also borrowed from the mother of the boy in the gray uniform (for Mr. limited), so they sat down to dinner; the beer, as Mr. Sawyer said, was served "in cans". After dinner, Mr. Bob Sawyer borrowed the largest mortar in the shop, and made a mug of steaming mulled wine in it: The nipples and those materials.Mr. Sawyer was a bachelor, and had only a large wine glass in the house, which he gave to Mr. Winkle, as a token of respect for his guests; and Mr. Ben Allen, who used a funnel with a cork in the bottom; Bob Sawyer himself used an open glass vessel, which was engraved with many mysterious symbols, and was originally used by apothecaries to measure liquid medicines when dispensing medicines.After these preparations were completed, I tasted the five-flavored wine and said it was called Baibai.So it was agreed that Mr. Winkle would have a drink, and Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen could have two drinks at will, and everyone drank happily and friendly. No singing, because Mr. Bob Sawyer said it was unsuitable for his calling, was disgraceful, and to make up for the loss, there was as much laughter as possible, which could and would have reached the End of another street.Their conversation lightened the hours, and benefited Mr. Bob Sawyer's little boy, who usually spent that part of the evening by writing his name on the counter, writing it and erasing it, today But he kept looking in through the glass door, watching and listening at the same time. Mr. Bob Sawyer's merriment soon turned to fury; Mr. Ben Allen's sentimentality soon; Mr. Ye went to see a doctor right away, at a house two streets away.This interrupted their extravaganza.After repeating it about twenty times Mr. Bob Sawyer heard the news, put a wet cloth on his head to keep himself awake, and after some success put on his green glasses and set off.Mr. Winkle was willing to make him wait for all the demands of his return, and finding it quite impossible to have any mutually intelligible conversation with Mr. Ben Ellen, whether on his most concerned subject or otherwise, he turned and took his leave, Go back to Bush. He was restless, and Alabella was arousing all kinds of thoughts in his mind, which prevented him from realizing the unexpected effect of sharing the five flavors in the glass under other circumstances.So he drank a glass of brandy mixed with soda water in the bar and then went into the coffee room. Instead of improving his spirits, what happened in the evening made him even more depressed and helpless. Sitting before the fire, with his back turned to him, was a tall gentleman in a gray coat; he was the only person in the room.It was a rather cold night, as far as the season was concerned, so the gentleman moved the chair a little so that the newcomer could see the fire.However, in this way, how did Mr. Winkle feel about the change? When he saw that familiar face and that body were none other than the vengeful and bloody Dolla! Mr. Winkle's first thought was to tug at the handle of the nearest bell, but it was very unfortunate that the handle was just behind Mr. Dowley's head.He restrained himself after taking a step in that direction.And when he walked over, Mr. Dowra had hurried away. "Mr. Winkle. Calm down, please. Don't hit me, I won't take it. Hit! Absolutely not!" said Mr. Dowra, more than Mr. Winkle imagined the fierce gentleman to be. Be soft. "Hit, sir?" said Winkle hesitantly. "Hit, sir," replied Dowley. "Calm down. Sit down. Listen to me slowly." "Sir," said Mr. Winkle, trembling all over, "if I agree to sit next to you or across from you without a waiter present, it will take some further understanding. You treated me last night. A threat was made, sir—a dreadful threat, sir." Here Mr Winkle grew very pale, and stopped short. "Yes," replied Dowlar, almost as pale as Mr. Winkle. "The situation is suspicious. I have explained it, and I admire your courage and integrity. Your conscience is innocent. My hand is outstretched. Shake it." "Really, sir," said Mr. Winkle, hesitating as to whether to hold out his hand, and almost afraid that the request might trick him into reaching out and grabbing him, "really, sir, I— " "I see what you mean," put in Dora. "You feel violated. Of course. Even I would. I was wrong, please forgive me. Be kind. Forgive me." Having said this, Dora held Winkle openly shook his hand very violently, and said that he was a man of the most noble spirit, and he respected him more than before. "Then," said Dowra, "sit down. Tell me all about it. How did you find me? When did you come after me? Tell me frankly." "It was quite accidental," replied Mr. Winkle, very bewildered by the unexpected nature of the meeting. "Quite by chance." "Very well," said Dolla. "I woke up this morning. I've forgotten about my threats. I laughed it off. I felt safe. I said so." "To whom?" asked Mr. Winkle. "To Mrs. Dowra. 'You did swear,' she said. 'Yes,' I said. That was a very bold thing to say.' She said. 'That's right,' I said.' I apologize. where is he?'" "Who is it?" asked Mr. Winkle. "You," replied Dowley. "I went downstairs. Couldn't find you. Pickwick looked sad. Shakes his head. Hope there's no murder. I get it all. You feel insulted. You go, maybe to get an appointment." Friend. To get a pistol, perhaps. 'What a noble spirit,' I said. 'I admire him.'" Mr. Winkle coughed, began to see the situation, and put on a stern look. "I left a note for you," Dowra went on, "I said I was sorry. I did. Something urgent called me here. He wasn't satisfied. Followed. You need verbal He's right. It's over now. My business is over. I'll go back tomorrow. Let's go together." Mr. Winkle looked increasingly ugly as Dowra explained.The mystery of the beginning of their conversation is explained; Mr. Dowra shared his profound distaste for duels; Understanding Mr. Winkle's departure in terms of his own fears, he took the same approach, hiding carefully until all the anger subsided. When Mr. Winkle saw the truth of the matter in his mind, he said with a most terrible expression that he was completely satisfied; but at the same time he showed such an attitude that Mr. Dowley had no choice but to believe him. If there is no satisfaction, then something of the most terrible and destructive nature must inevitably occur.Mr. Dowra seemed to have been deeply impressed by Mr. Winkle's magnanimous ideas; and the two belligerents separated to bed, with many pledges of everlasting friendship. About half-past twelve, Mr. Winkle had been enjoying his first bout of sleep for about twenty minutes, when he was awakened suddenly by a loud knock on the door, repeated with increasing ferocity. , he jumped up from the bed and asked who and what. "Excuse me, sir, but a young man says he wants to see you soon," replied the chambermaid. "Young man!" cried Mr. Winkle. "There is nothing wrong with that, sir," answered another voice through the keyhole; "if this interesting young man is not brought into the room at once, his legs will probably be worse than his face." Come in first." After the young man said this hint.Just kicked lightly on the lower part of the door, as if to increase the weight of this sentence. "Is that you, Sam?" asked Mr Winkle, jumping out of bed. "It's quite impossible, sir, to know with satisfaction who he is without seeing him," the voice answered, in a decided tone. Mr. Winkle, without much doubt as to who the young man was, opened the door; the instant it was opened, Mr. Samuel Weller rushed in, locked it carefully from the inside, and placed the key discreetly in his Vest pocket: Then, after looking Mr. Winkle from head to toe, he said: "You are a very funny young gentleman, sir!" "What do you mean by this behavior, Sam?" asked Mr. Winkle indignantly. "Get out, sir, at once. What do you mean, sir?" "What do I mean," retorted Sam, "come, sir, it's too tasty, as the lady said when she argued with the baker, because the pork pie he sold her was full of fat What do I mean! Fright, that ain't bad, that ain't bad." "The door is open, leave at once, sir," said Mr. Winkle. "When I left this room, sir, at exactly the time you were leaving," replied Sam in a forceful tone, and sat down solemnly, "if I should feel it necessary to carry you out, of course I shall Leaving this room a little earlier than you; but allow me to express my one hope, and don't drive me to extremes, to make bad decisions: I say this only to quote a nobleman to a stubborn snail. , it refused to follow a needle out of its shell, so he began to feel that he might have to chase it and crush it in the crack of the door." Mr. Weller said this passage, which was rarely so long for him, and said: Putting his hands on his knees, he looked into Mr. Winkle's face, with an expression on his own that showed that he was not joking at all. "You're a lovely young man, sir," continued Mr. Weller, in a tone of righteous reproach, "then I hope you won't put our dear old When he resolves to do everything on principle. You are much worse than Dawson, sir; and as for Fogg, I think he's a natural angel compared to you!" Mr. Weller clapped on each knee. After emphatically expressing this feeling, he folded his arms with a very contemptuous expression, and leaned back in the chair, as if waiting for the criminal's defense. "My dear fellow," said Mr. Winkle, holding out a hand; his teeth chattered as he spoke, for he had been standing in his pajamas during Mr. Wheeler's rant, "I Good man, I respect your devotion to my fine friend, and I am very sorry to have increased my uneasiness for him. Shake my hand, Sam, shake!" "Well," said Sam, a little sullenly, but shaking Mr. Winkle's outstretched hand respectfully at the same time: "well, you should be like that. I'm glad to see you like that; because , as long as I have a way, I don't want him to be bullied by anyone, that's all." "Of course, Sam," said Mr. Winkle. "Shake hands! Go to bed now, Sam, and we'll talk in the morning." "I'm so sorry," Sam said, "but I can't go to bed right now." "Don't go to bed!" Mr. Winkle repeated Sam's words. "No," said Sam, shaking his head, "can't go to sleep." "Didn't you say you were going back tonight, Sam?" asked Mr. Winkle, startled. "No, unless you are willing to go back," Sam replied, "but I must not leave this room for half a step, and my master's orders must be obeyed." "Nonsense, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, "I must stay here for two or three days; and, Sam, you must stay, and help me find a way to meet a lady—Miss Ellen, Sam; you remember her—I must see her before I leave Brestol." But Sam's answer to these ideas was only to shake his head with great determination, and to reply emphatically, "No." However, after Mr. Winkle's vigorous arguments, and the details of his encounter with Dolla, Sam began to waver; and at last an agreement was reached, the principal terms of which were as follows: Sam could withdraw and leave Mr. Winkle undisturbed and have his room to himself, but he would have Sam lock the door from the outside and take the key; so that in case of fire or accident the door could be opened at once .A letter was to be written to Mr. Pickwick early next morning, to be forwarded by Dowra, requesting his consent to Sam and Mr. Winkle remaining in Brestol on the matter which had been discussed, and to reply immediately. Send it by the next train; if it is agreed, the two gentlemen will stay; if not, start back to Bath as soon as the reply is received.In the end, Mr. Winkle, for his own sake, vowed not to jump out of a window.Escape by climbing a fireplace or something.Having concluded these terms, Sam locked the door and went away. When he was about to go downstairs, he stopped suddenly and took out the key from his pocket. "I totally forgot about knocking down the floor," said Sam; turning half away. "The boss says it's going to be done; I'm a dead fool! Never mind," added Sam, cheering up. "Anyway, it'll be done to-morrow." Mr. Weller was obviously much relieved by this thought, so he put the key in his pocket again, went down the stairs without thinking about anything, and soon fell asleep like everyone else who lived here.