, the image of the great Samuel; his mother certainly. He
evidently regarded her with deep affection, he had brought the picture to
Dulwich and placed it where it should always be before his eyes. Could
it not be, and is it not natural that in addition to his other
amiabilities he was the best of sons--that she "ruled the roast"--that in
the old Mrs. Wardle, to whom he so filially attended, he saw his mother's
image, that she was with him to the day of her death, and that while she
lived, he resolved that no one else should be mistress there! After her
death he found himself a confirmed old bachelor. There's a speculation
for you on the German lines.

We might go on. This self denial must have been the more meritorious as
he was by nature of an affectionate, even amorous, cast. He seized every
opportunity of kissing the young ladies. He would certainly have liked
to have had some fair being at home whom he could thus distinguish. How
good this description of the rogue--

"Mr. Pickwick kissed the young ladies--we were going to say as if they
were his own daughters, only, as he might possibly have infused _a
little more warmth into the salutation_, the comparison would not be
quite appropriate."

He never lost a chance. In the same spirit, when the blushing Arabella
came to tell of her marriage, "can you forgive my imprudence?" He
returned "no verbal response"--not he--"but _took off his spectacles in
great haste_, and seizing both the young lady's hands in his, kissed her
a great many times--perhaps a greater number of times than was absolutely
necessary." Observe the artfulness of all this--the deliberation--taking
off the spectacles so that they should not be in the way--seizing her
hands--and then setting to work! Oh, he knew more of "this sort of
thing" than he had credit for. He had never proposed--true--but he had
been near it a precious sight more than he said.

Miss Witherfield is a rather mysterious personage, yet we take an
interest in her and speculate on her history. She lived some twenty
miles from Ipswich--no doubt at a family place of her own. She had come
in to stay at the White Horse for the night and the morning. She was, no
doubt, a person of property--otherwise Mr. Magnus would not have been so
eager, and he must have been a fortune hunter, for he confided to Mr.
Pickwick, that he had been jilted "three or four times." What a quaint
notion by the way that of his: "I thi