THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLUB; By Boz. Part V. and Last. Carey, Lea, and Blanchard.

Mr. Charles Dickens has brought his Pickwick labors to a close, leaving the philanthropic old gentleman in the quiet enjoyment of his otium cum dignitate at a pleasant residence within a few miles of London, still retaining the facetious Samivel in his employ. The pretty Mary has become Mrs. Weller, and the elder branch of the family is peaceably disposed of at Newmarket. Mr. Dickens has shown his good sense in bring. ing his work to a close-it was impossible for him, with all his brilliant wit and facility of humor, to carry out the fun of the thing much longer, and the iteration of the peculiarities of the parties became something flat and stale. As they now stand, The Pickwick Papers form a mirth-provoking volume, that will retain its place in the library of every man who knows how to appreciate a hearty laugh. We have before expressed our opinion of the merits of Boz; we part from Pickwick with the best feelings, and earnestly desire a sight of his successor, by the same author.

Messrs. Carey, Lea, and Blanchard announce their intention of immediately issuing a new edition of the above, in one volume, with a variety of illustrations by the best hands.

PICKWICK ABROAD; OR, A TOUR IN FRANCE. A Series of Papers Compiled from the Private Correspondence of Samuel Pickwick, Esq., with Illustrations, by Alfred Crowquill,

Some daring hand has snatched the stump of Boz's pen from the grasp of the gentle Dickens, and with impious audacity, has essayed description of a Pickwickian tour in France. There are some comical sketches in the number before us, and we have no doubt that as the author becomes more acquainted with the persons he assumes to describe, that more perfect portraitures will be produced. Samivel's letter to his wife is well conceived; and the swindler, Crashem, although a little too like Jingle, makes some palpable hits, particularly where he describes the new method of negociating bills, compelling the poor devils to take but a small portion of the value in cash, and foisting upon them unsaleable articles for the balance. "I did a bill about six months ago," says Crashem, "a good bill of one thousand pounds, and what do you think he gave me? Two hundred pounds in ready money-three hundred in Chinese turnpike bonds-four hundred in Persian scrip-and another hundred in Newcastle coals."

Crashem thus describes the wine at a French hotel-"The first day they brought me a bottle of ink and water-the second, vinegar, with a blue-bag steeped in it—the third, cider and log-wood—and all this they were pleased to call claret.

The Pickwickians' first meal in France is well described-we give it in full; saying, en passant, that, the etchings are full of life and humor, and creditable to the talent of Alfred Crowquill, the designer and engraver.

Mr. WELLER, who had disappeared on the entrance of the waiter, now returned to the coffee-room where his masters were seated, and shuffled uneasily round the table, as if he were desirous of unburdening his mind of some oppressive weight.

"What is the matter, Sam?" said Mr. Pickwick, at length, pitying the embarrassed situation of his domestic: "has any thing new occurred?"

'Beg pardon, sir," returned Sam, "but I'm just a-come from the kitchen-and a more curiouser place I

never see."

64

Indeed, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick; "what is there so remarkable?"

:

'In that 'ere kitchen, sir,” said Sam, seriously, “ there's nothink that's kimmon to a kitchen in England. Fust, sir, there are half a dozen man-cooks, vith vite night-caps and aperns; and each appears to be the captain o' ten or twelve different sars, pans-all of bright kipper-ranged, soldier-vise, on a large stove and then the contents o' them 'ere sarsepans, gen'lemen, is 'stonishing to a degree. I opened the lid o' von, unbeknown to the cook as vos the presiding diwinity o' that quarter, and sure enough, I sees a pattridge a-stooing vith wegetables and sassages. Says I to myself, This is rayther queer,' as the banker observed, ven he looked at the cheque as vos forged. P'rhaps you'd like to larn French cookery, young man?' said von o' the vaiters, vith a vink o' slyness to von o' the varming pans."

"To one of the warming pans!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, somewhat angry, for he recollected that the unfortunate subject of warming-pans had served as material evidence against him, in the mouth of Sergeant Buz-fuz on the occasion of his memorable trial.

"Hallegorical, sir-purely hallegorical, sir," returned Mr. Weller, "as the critic said to the author, ven he cut up his writings."

"Well-to return to the kitchen, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, whose momentary anger was speedily subsided, and who entertained some vague idea that his domestic alluded to a chambermaid, although the synonyme was at first rather obscure.

"If it suit your con-wenience, sir," continued Sam, "to listen to my wagaries, I don't know no hobjection

to my communicating of them. So to continue. 'P'rhaps you 'ud like to larn French cookery?' said the vaiter. Wery much obleeged, young lily-vite,' said I ; but had rayther let it alone, as the monkey said to the hot poker.' Vould you like jist for to taste o' this 'ere dish, Mr. Veller?" persewed the waiter, for he'd larnt my name from the top of my bandbox; and, taking the kiver off von o' the sarsepans, he showed me a piece o' biled beef done to rags. Time to take that off,' says I. No such thing,' said he, looking at the clock: must stew till six.' And vot's in that 'ere large kaldron ?' said I, not wenturing on a look of astonishment, as I was afeard of 'traying my ignorance. 'Stewed weal,' said the vaiter; and thereupon he took off the lid of the kipper sarsepan, and showed me a piece of meat with bits of fat hanging about it on all sides. This he called a flich-and-go; but I 'pose 'twas 'is imperence. Pray do you use pertaties in France?' said I. Certainly,' said my friend the vaiter; here is some prime uns,' and sure enow I seed some pertaties cut into slices, and kivered over with butter and persely, jist ready to sarve up."

"Singular!" said Mr. Pickwick, who had listened with deep attention to Mr. Weller's recital; "very singular! But what did I tell you just now, Winkle?"

Mr. Winkle was about to reply, when the entrance of the waiter and the luncheon attracted the attention of the three gentlemen to the repast which was now brought in-and which was to be the first that either had ever yet eaten of in France.

"Dear me," said Mr. Pickwick, "why-this is a dinner!"

"Dejeuner à la fourchette," cried the waiter; and having ranged half a dozen dishes upon the table, he proceeded to draw the corks of three bottles of wine, and place them (the bottles, not the corks) upon the same convivial board.

Meat-pie," said Mr. Pickwick, uncovering the dish opposite to him, and glancing curiously at a little fabric of paste standing in a very littie piece of crockery-ware.

Vol-au-vent aux grenouilles !" observed the waiter.

"Mutton-chops and vegetables," cried Mr. Tupman, disencumbering his dish of its tegument. Cotellettes à la jardiniere," said the waiter.

"Hash and young lobsters," exclaimed Mr. Winkle.

"Tête de veau à la tortue, et des ecrevisses," chanted the waiter in a sing-song tone of voice.
"Chopped cabbages," said Mr. Weller, as he lifted up the cover of a dish containing spinage.

"And

some of them identical pertaties," continued Sam, disclosing the contents of another plate, "consarning vich

I vos hedificated just now. Kolliflour and melted butter is the third-and a' admirable display they air too. Good appetite, Gen'lemen, as the skipper said to the sailors ven they vos short of perwisions, and he gave 'em each a ounce of salt pork."

"This chicken-pie is excellent," said Mr. Pickwick, helping himself a second time to the attractive dish before him:-"I never tasted any thing so tender. You really can eat the very bones!"

"Indeed!" observed Mr. Winkle; "I'll trouble you for a piece, then."

"With pleasure," returned Mr. Pickwick.

Tupman-try this dish of mine?"

"I don't care if I do," said Mr. Tupman; and having been copiously helped, he as liberally indulged himself in the consumption of the delicate food.

"Winkle, a glass of wine," said Mr. Pickwick.

"With pleasure," said Mr. Winkle; and the Burgundy was accordingly poured out and drank.

"Elder-wine-is it not?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, emptying his glass, and smacking his lips with a peculiar relish.

"Burgundy, sir," said the waiter-" best Burgundy."

"I was just going to tell you so," observed Mr. Winkle; "and a very excellent glass of wine it is." In the meantime, Mr. Pickwick had helped himself a third time to the pie before him, and was about to commence a vigorous attack thereon, when his attention was suddenly attracted to Mr. Tupman, whose fea. tures were screwed up in a most extraordinary manner, and seemed to indicate every appearance of a desire to vomit on the part of that gentleman.

"Tupman-are you ill?" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, laying down his knife and fork, and helping himself to a glass of wine in a momentary fit of absence, caused by the alarming situation of his friend."

"Pray, don't be sick, Tupman-now, don't, there's a good fellow," cried Mr. Winkle, in amiable commisseration of that gentleman's indisposition.

"O, that pie!" groaned Mr. Tupman, retching most frightfully, while the tears ran down his cheeks. "Waiter!" said Mr. Pickwick in an angry tone of voice then, fearful that his rising choler might overcome the equanimity of his temper, he tossed off the wine he had poured out, in order to allow himself time for reflection.

"Yes sir," said the waiter, stepping forward from the side table where he was stationed.

"What is in that pie, waiter?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Yes-what is in it?" demanded Mr. Winkle menacingly.

'In mercy, waiter-what was it made of?" murmured Mr. Tupman, whose face was now ghastly pale. "Made of, sir?" repeated the waiter.

"Yes-made of," cried Mr. Winkle, very angrily, and in a tone that seemed to assure the waiter that he would not be trifled with.

"Young frogs's legs, I fancy, sir," said the waiter, with the utmost coolness; and having assured himself of the truth of his statement by a glance at the dish, he added, “yes, sir-they are frogs' legs."

In one moment Mr. Pickwick's lap received the contents of Mr. Tupman's stomach, and Mr. Winkle rushed towards the bell, and pulled it with all his might, although the waiter was in the room. As for Mr. Pickwick, he was so bewildred by the communication made by the waiter, the idea of having eaten frogs' legs, and the certainty of having been made a hand-bason of by Mr. Tupman, that, in a moment of venial desperation, he seized the nearest bottle upon the table, and having poured out a tumbler of its contents, drank it at a draught.

Mr. Weller, who had left the apartment only a few minutes before the commencement of this extraordinary scene to look after his own luncheon, hastened to the coffee-room the moment he heard the bell ringing with all the violence that Mr. Winkle's arms could impart to the wire. When he beheld the confusion that prevailed, and heard Mr. Winkle vituperating the waiter, as a sort of accompaniment to the music he was making with the bell, it immediately occurred to Mr. Weller's mind that the said waiter had been abusing his

revered master; and, without any more ado, he communicated to the unoffending waiter's nose so fierce a blow, and followed it up by another on the chest to such purpose, that the unfortunate waiter fell over the table, and scattered the remnants of the luncheon on the floor. The other domestics of the hotel rushed into the coffee-room in a body, just at the moment when their fellow servant kissed the ground, and were about to inflict summary and condign punishment on Mr. Weller. But their pugnacious determinations were stopped by the interference of Mr. Pickwick, who, with extraordinary promptitude, rose from his chair like a doll leaping out of a child's box by means of a spring; and holding back Mr. Winkle with one hand, while he waved the other over his head, he proceeded to address the servile crew. His eloquence produced an immediate effect-the matter was explained to the satisfaction of all parties-and the waiter undertook to pardon Mr. Weller, on a small douceur being slipped into his hand, but not before Mr. Winkle had informed the domestics that it was very lucky they were thus pacifically inclined, or they would have known the reason why.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.-We have a word or two to say to some of our corresponding friends, and deeming our dicta of some importance, we decline, upon the present occasion, burying them in the unregarded precincts of the cover. We wish certain of our friends to note that it is impossible to be answerable for the correctness of their articles, if they will not pay some little attention to caligraphy. We are well used to bad writing, and have been accounted tolerable in deciphering ancient MSS., but our patience and our practice have been worn out by the favors of some of our would-be contributors, whose ebullitions we have been endeavoring to peruse. We have before us now some verses from Georgia, not one line of which can we elucidate in full, and even with the assistance of the rhyme, are unable to guess at the meaning of the scrawl. By the way, we are positively overrun with original poetry. Cannot some of our versifying correspondents indite prose articles, and favor us with the results of their lucubrations? Were we to insert a tythe part of the mawkish sentiment and trite love laments which are daily handed to us, our subscribers would rebel at the enormous dose of twaddle, and consign our numbers to a richly merited perdition. Love hath its joys

as well as griefs," says a poet, very respectable in the way of authority, but all our swains are sentimental, and do not "babble o' green fields," but ruminate most melanchollily upon despair, and fate, and bursting hearts. We regret that the ladies are so flinty-bosomed, but must request their suitors to impute it to the hardness of the times. It is strange that every sentimental lover will utter his plaints to an unfeeling world; we deeply sympathise with our unsuccessful inamoratos, but beg to assure them that the majority of our friends care very little about their unrequited love. In the way of an agreeable variety, we present a verse or two of the patriotic, with a finisher of the picturesque-forming pretty contrasts to the generality of the poetry which we have had the pleasure of presenting to the notice of the public.

"Hark! hear the boisterous waters of the Champlain,

Rage with all the impetus of the rageing main.

And see them rush along in their mad carere

Ah! they have caused many a sad tear.

Behold the dark form of majestic Rock Dunder,

Part the rageing element assunder,

And rise its majestic head in pride

High over th' spray of the beateling tide!

We are unable to give the whole of this poem, but the last verse contains some historical information, with a noble independence in the metre.

'Twas on the proud bed of the Champlain

That King William sent his warlike train!

And after many a Britian had found a watery grave,

Left the "Star-spangled" banner in triumph o'er Champlain's waters to wave!"

Another adorer of the Delphic God sends us, from Washington, an outrageous piece of rurality, without the slightest pretence to rhyme or jingle, and equally destitute of an approach to rhythm. He commences, “most musical, most melancholy," an address to a weeping willow, in these affecting words,

We are not going to inflict the remainder upon our suffering friends. We have consigned the plaintive lay to the recesses of our balaam box, content to endure the lasting wrath of the poet, rather than again be pestered with his lunatic lays.

THE power of a young professional man acting by himself is especially in a large city-trivial indeed; while as a body, brought together by some common interest, and acting in concert-educated young men, and especially those who have embraced the professions, are enabled to produce almost any desired effect on the public, and are often used by their seniors for that very purpose.

The reason of this is found in the sympathy which the community at large feel towards the young. The man far on in the vale of life, looks back with pleasure to the commencement of his career, and as his memory brings up the names of his comrades who started with him in the chase of fortune, that same faithful monitor tells him of their death, and warns him that he too must soon yield to the young men of his acquaintance. If such then is the fact that the public are favorably disposed to young men as a body, why does the seeming contradiction present itself of the difficulty of success so commonly attendant on professional young men in their individual capacity? And this, especially, in populous places?

where law is the lever to lift its practitioner into public notice, and thence into political place, the course of the bar is shaped by the genius of our institutions.

In this dollar-hunting nation the respectability, and to a certain extent the influence of any one class or profession, is valued and estimated by the incomes to be obtained by its pursuit or adoption. The leading men in each body are singled out; an estimate, often erroneous, is made by the public of the avails of their pursuit, and this being adopted as a maximum, the separate sums so obtained are compared together, and that avocation yielding the largest profits, is pronounced the most respectable! " Vox populi vox Dei.” You may cavil, reader, at this mode of computation, but escape from its influence you cannot. We know it will be said that merchants make more than the professions-that is very true; but the sapient public calculate the capital. They reason that it requires so many thousands embarked in trade to realize a fortune; but, as "brains" are intangible, (being a trust from heaven,) they are so much clear gain, and therefore all that is got out of them goes for profit; besides, who ever knew an insolvent make over his intellect? So quoth the reasoner. The receipts of the profes sions-capital considered-exceed those of the merchants! We need scarce say education and its expenses, in the minds of these Solons, go for nothing.

Our space forbids us to treat this interesting topic in the mode which its merits demand; but, so far as the medical profession is interested, they have found a faithful delineator in the author of The Diary of a Physician" a work, to praise which would be futile. In the portraiture of the settling in London, of the We assert it fearlessly, that law or physic, the army mocking hopes of practice, of the gradual waning of or navy, the liberal arts, and even the church of God, the means of subsistence, of the struggle between would sink low in the estimation of the community at respectable appearance out of doors, and pinching large, were the incomes derivable from them to prove poverty within doors, and of the long dreary perspec- but pittances, and their fruits to be only barren honors. tive of a life of debt and an end of wo, many will It is a humiliating thought that learning is sought behold their past, and perhaps their present career chiefly for the pelf it may yield, and not for the deep portrayed. We would not, if we could, provoke a riches of its mines; is pursued for the sake of a golden comparison between our effort and that of the physi-lure, and not for the gems of intellect that sparkle in cian; but, leaving the pupils of Esculapius, we prefer devoting our energies to the disciples of Justinian and the readers of Blackstone and Story, and this the rather, because the struggles of a young lawyer are, in many respects "sui generis ;" and in this country,

its caverns; and is weighed in the balances not against ignorance, but against riches.

The result of this reasoning is evident. There is a rush to the bar; and, as large cities afford the most lucrative fields of practice, the parent and his son

"

alike agree that a city is the place. Competition then "Throw open the doors for his Excellency my is the first, and perhaps prominent cause of individual Lord Viscount de Chateaubriand, Peer of France, Amfailures, and this explains the seeming contradiction bassador at London, and Grand Officer of the Legion already alluded to; the aggregate influence is very of Honor!" So does the philosophical Frencaman, great, but the struggle for employment causes those in his memoirs, mark the contrast between his first and who have little practice, to possess little or no in-second sojourn at London. We adopt his words as a fluence. convenient example of the social rule, and of the dif Another cause deleterious to professional success is ficulties of access to what is technically termed found in politics. In making this assertion, we nogood society." We believe that a want of proper doubt run counter to the preconceived opinions of and cultivated society is a great hindrance to profesmany of our readers; but ere we part, we hope to find sional success, and a prolific cause of the ruin of ourselves of one mind. It is a common, but we think many young men. Let not the reader imagine we a delusive idea, that politics promote business, for there are radicals in this matter; but assuredly we do know are but few that are even yet prepared to regard place that this social influence is mighty for good or evil, in this country of rotation as a means of subsistence. and we are aware that in this city the access is far The reasoning runs thus:-"I must become noted. I more difficult than it should be, and that strangers must get before the public, and in order to effect this, may occupy prominent public posts, may materially I will join the party of some leader. I will become promote public measures, be admitted on all hands the address writer, resolution mover, and ward meet-able in their professions, and yet, so far as society is ing speaker of some candidate, who in return will concerned, be alone. In Roman days, the tickets for recommend me to his friends, will send me business, admission to the games were golden tokens: how far will advance my interests, and promote my profes- this practice prevails in spirit in certain classes of sional prospects." Delusive hope-mad imagining these times, it would be perhaps invidious to state. The wily demagogue does companion with the young But, the same spirit that caused Chateaubriand, a speaker; he is his "hail fellow, well met" while writer, an emigrant, a refugee from France, and an need requires, but presently wafied into place by the exile for opinion, to pass unknown in London on his exertions of his friends and helpers, each of whom first visit, and which caused on his second the anexpects to rise as "bobs to the kite," one and all, nouncement which commences our paragraph, preour reasoner and his fellow thinkers, find themselves vails here. Society of the better class here, will in the predicament of Joseph in prison. "Yet did welcome the notorious, but will not help to gain no not the chief butler remember Joseph, but forgattoriety. It will shout its hosannas in the train of a him." Such men invariably disappoint, and leave young man blessed with family or wealth, but it ut their tools the sport of some other aspirant, who hasters" the deep damnation of its bah" over the attempt. wit enough to use them. How often have we be of unfriended genius to spread its light in that circle. held, thus broken down and deserted, some one who In writing this, the consciousness is felt that our imagined himself on the road to distinction? his illu- views may be doubted and denied, but we think that sion dispelled; himself dejected, clientless, and op- they cannot be disproved. Boast as our nation may of pressed, with no relish for his profession, and but little political equality, its citizens are not free from the knowledge of its practice; spending solitary office and cravings of "stars, garters and ribbons," or the debriefless court hours; passed far ahead by those who sires of ascending in the social scale. It may be said, started with him-inferior then in unind and ability, the professional young man should not think of such but now, by dint of application, far superior. There. things; as well say, he should not think of his dress while yet in the pith of manhood and pride of intel- or deportment. Whatsoever the world considers lect, he remains the victim of political seduction. Or precious, must, however intrinsically worthless, acsuppose we reverse the scene. The adventurer suc- quire some value even in a philosopher's eyes; for ceeds; by some eminent effort he secures notoriety; he no man can be so segregated from the world as to becomes "a rising young man;" he is spoken of by defy the influence of its artificial estimates upon the his elders as a very talented lawyer" although real sources of his happiness." Especially does this those same elders take their business elsewhere! He sentiment apply to the young lawyer, cast in constant feels firm, and moves with ease in the region of collision with the public, for he soon finds that these office; he thinks of launching into business, and soar- social advantages possess at least exchangeable, if not ing over the heads of his rivals; of rising with every real value. The desire of rising, and the shame of wave of his wing more powerful for power and re-sinking, are common to all, and they are either idiots nown. But while thus he feels and acts, the bolt is or scoundrels, who disparage the influence of social sped that hurls him to the earth, prostrates his hopes, rank. and crushes his prospects; he finds himself famous indeed-but ruined! Then maddened at his downfall, he is ready to exclaim, Flectere si nequeo superos. Acheronta movebo," He joins some desperate faction; proves recreant to former principles; ranks and fights under an alien bauner; experiences the common fate of renegade politicians, and goes down to after time a hissing, a bye-word, and a reproach.

In the recent formation of the Athenian Institute, we hope to find a means of access to the better classes: a mode-so to speak-of taking fashion by storm, which has not heretofore existed; and, sincerely do we hope that the founders of this associa ton may feel the satisfaction of wiping from our city a bitter reproach, a deep stigma, too long prevailing. We have yet another cause to allude to, and our