her less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
with the assistance 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 vith you, and
show 'em how to do it.'

'Stop, Sam, stop!' said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
hold of Sam's arms 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; ain't they, Sam?' inquired Mr.
Winkle, staggering.

'I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, Sir,' replied Sam.

'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 a-goin' to begin,' said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.
'Now, Sir, start off!'

'Stop an instant, Sam,' gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
to Mr. Weller. 'I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don't
want, Sam. You may have them, Sam.'

'Thank'ee, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'Never mind touching your hat, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle hastily. 'You
needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
shillings this morning for a Christmas box, Sam. I'll give it you this
afternoon, Sam.'

'You're wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'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
assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
bank--

'Sam!'

'Sir?'

'Here. I want you.'

'Let go, Sir,' said Sam. 'Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go,
sir.'

With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
the agonised Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerable
impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
bore swif