There still remaining an interval of two days before the time agreedupon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley Dell, Mr. Wellersat himself down in a back room at the George and Vulture, after eatingan early dinner, to muse on the best way of disposing of his time. Itwas a remarkably fine day; and he had not turned the matter over in hismind ten minutes, when he was suddenly stricken filial and affectionate;and it occurred to him so strongly that he ought to go down and seehis father, and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lostin astonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of this moralobligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglect without anotherhour's delay, he straightway walked upstairs to Mr. Pickwick, andrequested leave of absence for this laudable purpose.

'Certainly, Sam, certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glisteningwith delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on the part of hisattendant; 'certainly, Sam.'

Mr. Weller made a grateful bow.

'I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties as ason, 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 to doanythin' wrong, through not havin' it. I saved him a world o' troublethis vay, Sir.'

'That's not precisely what I meant, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking hishead, with a slight smile.

'All good feelin', sir--the wery best intentions, as the gen'l'm'n saidven he run away from his wife 'cos she seemed unhappy with him,' repliedMr. Weller.

'You may go, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Thank'ee, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller; and having made his best bow, andput on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top of the Arundelcoach, and journeyed on to Dorking.

The Marquis of Granby, in Mrs. Weller's time, was quite a model ofa roadside public-house of the better class--just large enough to beconvenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of theroad was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head andshoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a redcoat with deep blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over histhree-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags;beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and thewhole formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis ofGranby of glorious memory.

The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium plants, and awell-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shutters bore a variety ofgolden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and neat wines; and thechoice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging about the stable doorand horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof of the excellent quality ofthe ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam Weller paused, when hedismounted from the coach, to note all these little indications of athriving business, with the eye of an experienced traveller; and havingdone so, stepped in at once, highly satisfied with everything he hadobserved.

'Now, then!' said a shrill female voice the instant Sam thrust his headin at the door, 'what do you want, young man?'

Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. It camefrom a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who was seatedbeside the fireplace in the bar, blowing the fire to make the kettleboil for tea. She was not alone; for on the other side of the fireplace,sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was a man in threadbareblack clothes, with a back almost as long and stiff as that of the chairitself, who caught Sam's most particular and especial attention at once.

He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin countenance, anda semi-rattlesnake sort of eye--rather sharp, but decidedly bad. He worevery short trousers, and black cotton stockings, which, like the rest ofhis apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were starched, but hiswhite neckerchief was not, and its long limp ends straggled over hisclosely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion.A pair of old, worn, beaver gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a fadedgreen umbrella, with plenty of whalebone sticking through the bottom,as if to counterbalance the want of a handle at the top, lay on a chairbeside him; and, being disposed in a very tidy and careful manner,seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever he was, had no intentionof going away in a hurry.

To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very far fromwise if he had entertained any such intention; for, to judge from allappearances, he must have been possessed of a most desirable circleof acquaintance, if he could have reasonably expected to be morecomfortable anywhere else. The fire was blazing brightly under theinfluence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily under theinfluence of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table;a plate of hot buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire; andthe red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large sliceof bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentalityof a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hotpine-apple rum-and-water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every timethe red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye, withthe view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two of thehot pine-apple rum-and-water, and smiled upon the rather stout lady, asshe blew the fire.

Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene, that hesuffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass unheeded. Itwas not until it had been twice repeated, each time in a shriller tone,that he became conscious of the impropriety of his behaviour.

'Governor in?' inquired Sam, in reply to the question.

'No, he isn't,' replied Mrs. Weller; for the rather stout lady was noother than the quondam relict and sole executrix of the dead-and-goneMr. 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 the roundof toast which the red-nosed man had just finished. 'I don't know, and,what's more, I don't care.--Ask a blessin', Mr. Stiggins.'

The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly commenced on thetoast with fierce voracity.

The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at first sight,to more than half suspect that he was the deputy-shepherd of whom hisestimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw him eat, all doubt onthe subject was removed, and he perceived at once that if he purposedto take up his temporary quarters where he was, he must make his footinggood without delay. He therefore commenced proceedings by putting hisarm over the half-door of the bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurelywalking in.

'Mother-in-law,' said Sam, 'how are you?'

'Why, I do believe he is a Weller!' said Mrs. W., raising her eyes toSam's face, with no very gratified expression of countenance.

'I rayther think he is,' said the imperturbable Sam; 'and I hope thishere reverend gen'l'm'n 'll excuse me saying that I wish I was THEWeller as owns you, mother-in-law.'

This was a double-barrelled compliment. It implied that Mrs. Wellerwas a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clericalappearance. It made a visible impression at once; and Sam followed uphis advantage by kissing his mother-in-law.

'Get along with you!' said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. 'For shame,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 young andgood-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 with Sam's arrival;and when the first effervescence of the compliment had subsided, evenMrs. Weller looked as if she could have spared him without the smallestinconvenience. However, there he was; and as he couldn't be decentlyturned out, they all three sat down to tea.

'And how's father?' said Sam.

At this inquiry, Mrs. Weller raised her hands, and turned up her eyes,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-circularbite out of the toast, and groaned again.

Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr. Stigginssomething to groan for, but he repressed his inclination, and merelyasked, 'What's the old 'un up to now?'

'Up to, indeed!' said Mrs. Weller, 'Oh, he has a hard heart. Night afternight does this excellent man--don't frown, Mr. Stiggins; I WILL say youARE an excellent man--come and sit here, for hours together, and it hasnot the least effect upon him.' 'Well, that is odd,' said Sam; 'it 'udhave a wery considerable effect upon me, if I wos in his place; I knowthat.'

'The fact is, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, 'he has anobderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have resistedthe pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and withstood theirexhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing theinfant negroes in the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moralpocket-handkerchiefs?'

'What's a moral pocket-ankercher?' said Sam; 'I never see one o' themarticles o' furniter.'

'Those which combine amusement With instruction, my young friend,'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 hewouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't he?' said Sam.

'Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant negroes were--what did hesay the infant negroes were?' said Mrs. Weller.

'Little humbugs,' replied Mr. Stiggins, deeply affected.

'Said the infant negroes were little humbugs,' repeated Mrs. Weller. Andthey both groaned at the atrocious conduct of the elder Mr. Weller.

A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have beendisclosed, only the toast being all eaten, the tea having got veryweak, and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, Mr. Stigginssuddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appointment with theshepherd, and took himself off accordingly.

The tea-things had been scarcely put away, and the hearth swept up, whenthe London coach deposited Mr. Weller, senior, at the door; his legsdeposited him in the bar; and his eyes showed him his son.

'What, Sammy!' exclaimed the father.

'What, old Nobs!' ejaculated the son. And they shook hands heartily.

'Wery glad to see you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 'though howyou've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a mystery to me. Ionly vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's all.'

'Hush!' said Sam, 'she's at home, old feller.' 'She ain't vithinhearin',' replied Mr. Weller; 'she always goes and blows up, downstairs,for a couple of hours arter tea; so we'll just give ourselves a damp,Sammy.'

Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits-and-water, andproduced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down oppositeeach other; Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed chair, andMr. Weller, senior, on the other, in an easy ditto, they proceeded toenjoy themselves with all due gravity.

'Anybody been here, Sammy?' asked Mr. Weller, senior, dryly, after along silence.

Sam nodded an expressive assent.

'Red-nosed chap?' inquired Mr. Weller.

Sam nodded again.

'Amiable man that 'ere, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, smoking violently.

'Seems so,' observed Sam.

'Good hand at accounts,' said Mr. Weller. 'Is he?' said Sam.

'Borrows eighteenpence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for a shillin' tomake it up half-a-crown; calls again on Vensday for another half-crownto make it five shillin's; and goes on, doubling, till he gets it up toa five pund note in no time, like them sums in the 'rithmetic book 'boutthe nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy.'

Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded to by hisparent.

'So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskits?' said Sam, afteranother interval of smoking.

'Cert'nly not,' replied Mr. Weller; 'what's the good o' flannel veskitsto the young niggers abroad? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy,' saidMr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across the fireplace; 'I'dcome down wery handsome towards strait veskits for some people at home.'

As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position, andwinked at his first-born, in a profound manner.

'It cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket-'ankerchers topeople as don't know the use on 'em,' observed Sam.

'They're alvays a-doin' some gammon of that sort, Sammy,' replied hisfather. 'T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road, wen who should I see,a-standin' at a chapel door, with a blue soup-plate in her hand, butyour mother-in-law! I werily believe there was change for a couple o'suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all in ha'pence; and as the people comeout, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd ha' thought that nomortal plate as ever was baked, could ha' stood the wear and tear. Whatd'ye think it was all for?'

'For another tea-drinkin', perhaps,' said Sam.

'Not a bit on it,' replied the father; 'for the shepherd's water-rate,Sammy.'

'The shepherd's water-rate!' said Sam.

'Ay,' replied Mr. Weller, 'there was three quarters owin', and theshepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he--perhaps it might be on accountthat the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's wery little o' thattap he drinks, Sammy, wery; he knows a trick worth a good half-dozenof that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and so they cuts the wateroff. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's a persecutedsaint, and says he hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the water off,'ll be softened, and turned in the right vay, but he rayther thinkshe's booked for somethin' uncomfortable. Upon this, the women callsa meetin', sings a hymn, wotes your mother-in-law into the chair,wolunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to theshepherd. And if he ain't got enough out on 'em, Sammy, to make him freeof the water company for life,' said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, 'I'm oneDutchman, and you're another, and that's all about it.'

Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed--

'The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy, that they reg'larly turnsthe heads of all the young ladies, about here. Lord bless their littlehearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better; butthey're the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims o' gammon.'

'I s'pose they are,' said Sam.

'Nothin' else,' said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely; 'and wotaggrawates me, Samivel, is to see 'em a-wastin' all their time andlabour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't want 'em,and taking no notice of flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I'd my vay,Samivel, I'd just stick some o' these here lazy shepherds behind a heavywheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day.That 'ud shake the nonsense out of 'em, if anythin' vould.'

Mr. Weller, having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis,eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied hisglass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe, with nativedignity.

He was engaged in this operation, when a shrill voice was heard in thepassage.

'Here's your dear relation, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller; and Mrs. W. hurriedinto the room.

'Oh, you've come back, have you!' said Mrs. Weller.

'Yes, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe.

'Has Mr. Stiggins been back?' said Mrs. Weller.

'No, my dear, he hasn't,' replied Mr. Weller, lighting the pipe by theingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof, between the tongs, ared-hot coal from the adjacent fire; and what's more, my dear, I shallmanage to surwive it, if he don't come back at all.'

'Ugh, you wretch!' said Mrs. Weller.

'Thank'ee, my love,' said Mr. Weller. 'Come, come, father,' said Sam,'none o' these little lovin's afore strangers. Here's the reverendgen'l'm'n a-comin' in now.' At this announcement, Mrs. Weller hastilywiped off the tears which she had just begun to force on; and Mr. W.drew his chair sullenly into the chimney-corner.

Mr. Stiggins was easily prevailed on to take another glass of the hotpine-apple rum-and-water, and a second, and a third, and then to refreshhimself with a slight supper, previous to beginning again. He sat on thesame side as Mr. Weller, senior; and every time he could contrive to doso, unseen by his wife, that gentleman indicated to his son the hiddenemotions of his bosom, by shaking his fist over the deputy-shepherd'shead; a process which afforded his son the most unmingled delight andsatisfaction, the more especially as Mr. Stiggins went on, quietlydrinking the hot pine-apple rum-and-water, wholly unconscious of whatwas going forward.

The major part of the conversation was confined to Mrs. Weller and thereverend Mr. Stiggins; and the topics principally descanted on, werethe virtues of the shepherd, the worthiness of his flock, and the highcrimes and misdemeanours of everybody beside--dissertations which theelder Mr. Weller occasionally interrupted by half-suppressed referencesto a gentleman of the name of Walker, and other running commentaries ofthe same kind.

At length Mr. Stiggins, with several most indubitable symptoms of havingquite as much pine-apple rum-and-water about him as he could comfortablyaccommodate, took his hat, and his leave; and Sam was, immediatelyafterwards, shown to bed by his father. The respectable old gentlemanwrung his hand fervently, and seemed disposed to address someobservation to his son; but on Mrs. Weller advancing towards him, heappeared to relinquish that intention, and abruptly bade him good-night.

Sam was up betimes next day, and having partaken of a hasty breakfast,prepared to return to London. He had scarcely set foot without thehouse, when his father stood before him.

'Goin', Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller.

'Off at once,' replied Sam.

'I vish you could muffle that 'ere Stiggins, and take him vith you,'said Mr. Weller.

'I am ashamed on you!' said Sam reproachfully; 'what do you let him showhis red nose in the Markis o' Granby at all, for?'

Mr. Weller the elder fixed on his son an earnest look, and replied,''Cause I'm a married man, Samivel,'cause I'm a married man. Ven you'rea married man, Samivel, you'll understand a good many things as youdon't understand now; but vether it's worth while goin' through so much,to learn so little, as the charity-boy said ven he got to the end of thealphabet, is a matter o' taste. I rayther think it isn't.' 'Well,' saidSam, 'good-bye.'

'Tar, tar, Sammy,' replied his father.

'I've only got to say this here,' said Sam, stopping short, 'that if Iwas the properiator o' the Markis o' Granby, and that 'ere Stiggins cameand made toast in my bar, I'd--'

'What?' interposed Mr. Weller, with great anxiety. 'What?'

'Pison his rum-and-water,' said Sam.

'No!' said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand, 'would youraly, Sammy-would you, though?'

'I would,' said Sam. 'I wouldn't be too hard upon him at first. I'ddrop him in the water-butt, and put the lid on; and if I found he wasinsensible to kindness, I'd try the other persvasion.'

The elder Mr. Weller bestowed a look of deep, unspeakable admirationon his son, and, having once more grasped his hand, walked slowly away,revolving in his mind the numerous reflections to which his advice hadgiven rise.

Sam looked after him, until he turned a corner of the road; and then setforward on his walk to London. He meditated at first, on the probableconsequences of his own advice, and the likelihood of his father'sadopting it. He dismissed the subject from his mind, however, withthe consolatory reflection that time alone would show; and this is thereflection we would impress upon the reader.