Part 37 (1/2)

BY CHARLES d.i.c.kENS.

”Now,” said Wardle, after a substantial lunch, ”what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time.”

”Capital!” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

”Prime!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Bob Sawyer.

”You skate, of course, Winkle?” said Wardle.

”Ye-yes; O yes,” replied Mr. Winkle. ”I--I--am rather out of practice!”

”O, do skate, Mr. Winkle,” said Arabella. ”I like to see it so much.”

”O, 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.”

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of pairs, and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more down stairs; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncomfortable.

Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy and Mr. Weller having shoveled and swept away the snow which had fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvelous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonis.h.i.+ng devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, a.s.sisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions which they called a reel.

All this time Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated and entangled state, with the a.s.sistance of Mr. Snodgra.s.s, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the a.s.sistance 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.”

”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!”

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,” said Mr. Winkle, staggering.

”Now, Winkle,” cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter. ”Come; the ladies are all anxiety.”

”Yes, yes,” replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. ”I'm coming.”

”Just going to begin,” said Sam, endeavoring to disengage himself. ”Now, sir, start off!”

”Just hold me at first, Sam, will you?” said Mr. Winkle. ”There--that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam--not too fast!”

Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being a.s.sisted over the ice by Mr. Weller in a very singular and un-swanlike manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite bank--”Sam!”

”Sir!” shouted back Mr. Weller.

”Here! I want you.”