ht, and began to read it seriously.

Mr. Pickwick eyed him intently as he turned from the bottom line of the
first page to the top line of the second, and from the bottom of the
second to the top of the third, and from the bottom of the third to
the top of the fourth; but not the slightest alteration of countenance
afforded a clue to the feelings with which he received the announcement
of his son's marriage, which Mr. Pickwick knew was in the very first
half-dozen lines.

He read the letter to the last word, folded it again with all the
carefulness and precision of a man of business, and, just when Mr.
Pickwick expected some great outbreak of feeling, dipped a pen in the
ink-stand, and said, as quietly as if he were speaking on the most
ordinary counting-house topic--

'What is Nathaniel's address, Mr. Pickwick?'

'The George and Vulture, at present,' replied that gentleman.

'George and Vulture. Where is that?'

'George Yard, Lombard Street.'

'In the city?'

'Yes.'

The old gentleman methodically indorsed the address on the back of the
letter; and then, placing it in the desk, which he locked, said, as he
got off the stool and put the bunch of keys in his pocket--

'I suppose there is nothing else which need detain us, Mr. Pickwick?'

'Nothing else, my dear Sir!' observed that warm-hearted person in
indignant amazement. 'Nothing else! Have you no opinion to express on
this momentous event in our young friend's life? No assurance to convey
to him, through me, of the continuance of your affection and protection?
Nothing to say which will cheer and sustain him, and the anxious girl
who looks to him for comfort and support? My dear Sir, consider.'

'I will consider,' replied the old gentleman. 'I have nothing to say
just now. I am a man of business, Mr. Pickwick. I never commit myself
hastily in any affair, and from what I see of this, I by no means like
the appearance of it. A thousand pounds is not much, Mr. Pickwick.'

'You're very right, Sir,' interposed Ben Allen, just awake enough
to know that he had spent his thousand pounds without the smallest
difficulty. 'You're an intelligent man. Bob, he's a very knowing fellow
this.'

'I am very happy to find that you do me the justice to make the
admission, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, senior, looking contemptuously at Ben
Allen, who was shaking his head profoundly. 'The fact is, Mr. Pickwick,
that when I gave my son a roving license for a year or so, to see
some