clad in a half-worn suit of clothes, which, with Mr.
Pickwick's assistance, had been released from the pawnbroker's. He wore
clean linen too, and had had his hair cut. He was very pale and thin,
however; and as he crept slowly up, leaning on a stick, it was easy to
see that he had suffered severely from illness and want, and was still
very weak. He took off his hat as Mr. Pickwick saluted him, and seemed
much humbled and abashed at the sight of Sam Weller.

Following close at his heels, came Mr. Job Trotter, in the catalogue of
whose vices, want of faith and attachment to his companion could at all
events find no place. He was still ragged and squalid, but his face was
not quite so hollow as on his first meeting with Mr. Pickwick, a few
days before. As he took off his hat to our benevolent old friend, he
murmured some broken expressions of gratitude, and muttered something
about having been saved from starving.

'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, impatiently interrupting him, 'you
can follow with Sam. I want to speak to you, Mr. Jingle. Can you walk
without his arm?'

'Certainly, sir--all ready--not too fast--legs shaky--head queer--round
and round--earthquaky sort of feeling--very.'

'Here, give me your arm,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'No, no,' replied Jingle; 'won't indeed--rather not.'

'Nonsense,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'lean upon me, I desire, Sir.'

Seeing that he was confused and agitated, and uncertain what to do, Mr.
Pickwick cut the matter short by drawing the invalided stroller's arm
through his, and leading him away, without saying another word about it.

During the whole of this time the countenance of Mr. Samuel Weller
had exhibited an expression of the most overwhelming and absorbing
astonishment that the imagination can portray. After looking from Job to
Jingle, and from Jingle to Job in profound silence, he softly ejaculated
the words, 'Well, I AM damn'd!' which he repeated at least a score of
times; after which exertion, he appeared wholly bereft of speech, and
again cast his eyes, first upon the one and then upon the other, in mute
perplexity and bewilderment.

'Now, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, looking back.

'I'm a-comin', sir,' replied Mr. Weller, mechanically following his
master; and still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter, who
walked at his side in silence. Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for
some time. Sam, with his glued to Job's countenance, ran up against
the people who were walki