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.JIIARTINIOHUZZLEWJYIJ-.'
the meadows. ‘I left ’cm at the turnstile to run forward
and tell you they were ‘coming, and they’ll‘be .here,. sir,
in'4iin<less:’than' a minute’s time, I should say,” added
Tom, fetching his breath with difficulty. . 5 "
9 “ N ow who,” said Mr.‘ Pecksniif, pondering, “ who may
tliesepeople be l ” ‘ . . . ,- "
'r'“4Blcss my soul, sir l’.’ cried Tom, “Imeant to men-'
tion that at first, I thought I had. I knew them--her, I
mean-'-directly.’ The gentleman who'was ill at the Dra-
glonjsir,-last winter; and the young lady who attended
am” .. - I
1 u
‘ Tom’s teeth chattered in his head, and he positively
staggered with amazemant,‘ at witnessing the extraordi-
nary effect produced on Mr.-Pecksniif by these simple
woids.r a"I‘lie ‘dread of losing the old man’s favour almost
, as soon as they were reconciled, through the mere fact of
having Jonas in the’ house ; the impossibility of disniiss-
ing Jonas, or shutting him up, or tying him hand and
foot, andputting him in the coal-cellar, without oh'end-
ing him beyond recall ; the horrible discordance prevail-
ing in thecstablishment; and the impossibility of reduc-
ing it to decent harmony, .with Charity in loud liysterics,
Mercy in:the utmost disorder, Jonas in the parlour, and
Martin Chuzzlewit and his young charge upon the very
door-steps ; the total hopelessness of being able to dis-
guise or feasibly explain ‘this state of rampant confusion ;
the sudden accumulation over his devoted head of every
complicated perplexity and entanglement-for his extri-
cation. from which he had trusted: to time, good fortune,
chance, and his own plotting-so filled the entrapped
architect with dismay, that if Tom could have been :1
Gorgon staring at Mr. I-Pecksniti, andiltlr. ‘PecksniE could
have been a. Gorgon staring at Tom, they could not have
horrified eachothcr half - so much as in their own bewil-
dered persons.
“ Dear, dear I’? cried Tom, “what have I done? I
hoped it would be a pleasant surprise, sir. I thought you
would like to know.” - " ' “
But at that moment a loud knocking was heard at'the
hall door.. M i ‘ '
[CHAPTER xxi.
More .3l77zer1'can'E:r1m‘ientes. "llartin takes a Partner. W711 77107568 '1
. l"u7-clmse. Some Account Qf Eden. as it 01’l79‘“'9d 0” 1’“17""' A15"
,-.Qf the Imtisli Lion. Also of the kind of Syrgpgcfliy 137'(Zf&“"V’1 ‘"‘d
3 entertained, by me Watertoast ‘Association of mted burn17atMm‘S-
-"TIIVE knocking at Mr. Pecksniff’s door, though loud '
enouglihbore no resemblance whatever to the noise of
an American-railwavitrain at full speed. It may boiwell
to begin the present? chapter with this frank admission,
lest the reader should ima ine that the sounds now deaf-
ening this history’s ears lave any (30nI‘l8CtlOn'Wltll-i.l10
knocker on Mr. Pecksniff’s door, or with the great amount
Of agitation pretty equall divided between that worthy
man and Mr. Pinch, of which its strong performance was
-tl1ecause.m'n- ' '2!‘ -t I ‘ W ‘ I 1‘
Mr. Pecksniff’s house is more than a thousand leagues
away; andagain-tliis happy chronicle has Liberty: anfi
Moral Sensibility for its high companions.‘ Again. it
breathes the blessed air of Independence: again It 00”‘
templates with pious awe that moral sense wliichrcnders
unto Cmsar nothing that is his ; again inhales that sacred
3-tl'llOSpllel'e.Wlll(3ll.‘V2l.S'l,ll0 life of him-oh noble patri-
arch, with.many followers I-who dreamed of Freedom
in a slave’s embrace, and waking sold her oEspring and
his own in public markets. ' ‘ I '3 ‘
r‘> How thewhecls clanl; andrattle,’ and the tram-road
shakes as the train rushes on ! And now the engine yells.
as it were lashed and tortured like a living labourer, and
writhed in agony.-r A poor fancy ; for steeland iron are
of infinitely greater account, in this commonwealth, than
flesh and blood. If the cunning work-of Inaq be urged
beyond its power of endurance, it has within it the ele-
ments of its own revenge : whereas the wretched ‘mech-
xinismx of the.Divine Hand is’ dangerous. With 110 Such
property, but may be‘ tampered with, and crushed, and
broken, at the driver's pleasure. Look at that engine l It
shall ‘costla man more dollars in the way of penalty
and finefand satisfaction of ‘the outraged-law.‘ i0 deface
in wantonncss that senseless mass of metal,-.tlian to take’
x
(104.5:
the .l'ives.of twenty human creatures! Thus the stars
wink upon the. bloody. stripes ; and Liberty pulls down’
her cap upon her eyes, and owns Oppression in its vilest
aspect.forliei-sister.‘ .v-- ‘ R w t '1! ..
The engine-driver of the train whose noise‘ awoke us
to the present chapter, was certainly troubled with no,
such reflections as these : nor is it very probable that his
mind was disturbed by any reflections at all. . He leaned
with folded arms and crossed legs against the side ofuthe
carriage, smoking ; and, except when he expressed, by.a.
grunt as short as his pipe, his approval of some particu-
larly dexterous aim on the part of his colleague, the
fireman, who beguiled his leisure .by throwing logs of.
wood from the tender at the numerous stray cattle on
the line, he preserved a composure so immovable,rand
an indifference so complete, that if the locomotive had
been a sucking-pig, he could not have been more per-
fectly indifierent to its doings. Notwithstanding the.
tranquil state of this officer, and his unbroken peace of
mind, the train was proceeding with tolerable rapidity;
and the rails being but poorly laid, the jolts andbninps
it met with in its progress were neithersliglit norfew. ‘ .
There were three great caravans or cars attached. The
ladies’ car, the gentlenien’s car, and the car for ncgroes:
the latter painted black, as an appropriate compliment
to its company. Martinsand Mark Tapley were in‘ the
first, as it was V the most comfortable ; and, being far
from full, received other gentlemen who, like 1 thern,j
were nnblessed by the society of ladies of their own.
They were-seatcdusideiby side,‘and were engaged in
earnest conversation. ‘' m e .. < . . a;
“‘ And so, Mark,” said Martin, looking at him with an
anxious expression,-“ and so you are glad we have left
New York far behind us, are you 7” v v
“ Yes, sir,” said Mark. " I am. Precious glad.”
“.VVere you not ‘ jolly’ there ?” asked Martin.
“ On the contrairy, sir,” returned Mark. “ The jolliest
week as" ever I spent in my'life, was that there week a
Pawkins‘s.” ' . . . y i H
“ VVhat do you think of our prospects?” inquired
Martin, with an air that plainly said he had avoided the
question for some time. - . . v: s
“Uncommon bright, sir," returnedtlllark. “ Impossible
for a. place to havelt better name, sir, than the VValley'
of Eden. ’No man couldn't think of settling in a better
place than the ‘Valley of Eden. And I’m told,” added
Mark after a pause, “ as there's lots of serpents there, so
we shall come out, quite complete and rcg’lar.l' . . . t -
So far from dwelling upon this agreeable piece of
information .with the least dismay, ‘Mark's faco grew
radiant as he called it to mind : so very radiant, that a
stranger might have supposed he had all his’ life been
yearning for the society of serpents, and now hailed with
deli1glit- the approaching consummation of his fondest
wis es. )
‘.‘:Who told you tliat?” asked Martin stemly.
“ A military oflicer,” said Mark. , U
" Confound you for a ridiculous fellow I” cried Martin,
laughing heartily in spite of himself. “ VVhat military
officer? ‘on know they spring up in every. field-" z..
“ As t iick as scarecrows in England, sir,” interposed
Mark, “ which is a sort of militia ;themselves, being en-
tirely coat and wescoat, with a stick inside. Ha, ha 1-
Don’t mind me, sir;' it’s my way sometimes. I can't
help being jolly.-’-Why it was one of them inwading
conquerors at.Pawkins’s, as told me. ‘ Am I rightly‘in-
formed,’ he says-not exactly through his nose. but as if
lie’d got a stoppage in it. very high up-‘ that you're -a
going to the ‘Valley of Eden?’ .‘I heard some talk on
it,’. l.told him. ,‘Oh !’ says he, ‘if.you should ever
happen to go to bed there-you may, youknow,' he says,
‘in course of time as civilisation progresses-don't forget
to take an axe with you.’ 1 looks at him tolerable hard.
‘ Fleas?’ says I. ‘ And more,‘ says he. ‘ “’anipires?.’.
says I. " And more,’ says he. ,. ‘ Mosquitoes, perhaps‘? ’
says I. ' And more,’ says he. ‘ iVhat more?’ says I.
‘ Snakes more,’ says he ; ‘ rattlesnakes. ..Xou'rc right to
a certain extent, stranger, there air some czitawampous
chawers inithe small, way too, as graze upon a human
rcttystrong; but don't mind tlzgm-they’re company,
t's snakes,’ he says, ‘ as‘yon’ll object to :'and whenever
you wake and see one. in an upright poster on your-bed,’
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