Tupman felt every moment more disposed for the ball. Mr. Pickwick’s countenance glowed with an expression of universal philanthropy, and Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass fell fast asleep. [20] [20] “They’re beginning up-stairs,” said the stranger—“hear the company—fiddles tuning—now the harp—there they go.” The various sounds which found their way down-stairs announced the commencement of the first quadrille. “How I should like to go,” said Mr. Tupman again. “So should I,” said the stranger,—“confounded luggage—heavy smacks—nothing to go in—odd, an’t it?” Now general benevolence was one of the leading features of the Pickwickian theory, and no one was more remarkable for the zealous manner in which he observed so noble a principle than Mr. Tracy Tupman. The number of instances recorded on the Transactions of the Society, in which that excellent man referred objects of charity to the houses of other members for left-off garments, or pecuniary relief, is almost incredible. “I should be very happy to lend you a change of apparel for the purpose,” said Mr. Tracy Tupman, “but you are rather slim, and I am——” am——” “Rather fat—grown up Bacchus—cut the leaves—dismounted from the tub, and adopted kersey, eh?—not double distilled, but double milled—ha! ha! pass the wine.” Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the stranger passed so quickly away, or whether he felt very properly scandalised at an influential member of the Pickwick Club being ignominiously compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not yet completely ascertained. He passed the wine, coughed twice, and looked at the stranger for several seconds with a stern intensity; as that individual, however, appeared perfectly collected, and quite calm under his searching glance, he gradually relaxed, and reverted to the subject of the ball. “I was about to observe, sir,” he said, “that though my apparel would be too large, a suit of my friend Mr. Winkle’s would perhaps fit you better.” The stranger took Mr. Winkle’s measure with his eye, and that feature glistened with satisfaction as he said—“Just the thing.” Mr. Tupman
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