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appearance Bardell beneath boots chair chaise cheering coach coat countenance cried dear sir delight Dodson door Eatanswill ejaculated Esquire exclaimed eyes face fat boy fell fellow fire Fizkin Fogg glass Grummer hand head hear heard heart honourable Samuel Slumkey horse hostler inquired Ipswich Ivy green Jingle Jinks Job Trotter laughed Leo Hunter looked ma'am magistrate Maria Lobbs matter mind morning Muzzle Nathaniel Pipkin never night Nupkins old gentleman old lady old Lobbs once paused Peter Magnus Pickwick Pickwick Club Pickwickians portmanteau Pott proceeded replied round Sam Weller Samivel Sammy Samuel Pickwick screamed servant shouted side sleep Smart smile Snodgrass spinster aunt stairs stout stranger there's thing thought Tom Smart took turned voice walked Wardle Weller werry What's whispered wick window Winkle young ladies
Page 63 - Whole ages have fled and their works decayed And nations have scattered been; But the stout old Ivy shall never fade, From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its lonely days, Shall fatten upon the past: For the stateliest building man can raise, Is the Ivy's food at last. Creeping on, where time has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Page 62 - The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, To pleasure his dainty whim; And the mouldering dust that years have made, Is a merry meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the Ivy green. Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, And a staunch old heart has he.
Page 118 - That's very true," said Mr. Pickwick, "but the person I have in my eye" (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) "I think possesses these qualities; and has, moreover, a considerable knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell, which may be of material use to me.
Page 78 - We will therefore return to Mr. Tupman ; merely adding that within some few minutes before twelve o'clock that night, the convocation of worthies of Dingley Dell and Muggleton were heard to sing, with great feeling and emphasis, the beautiful and pathetic national air of We won't go home 'till morning, We won't go homo "till morning, We won't go home 'till morning, 'Till daylight doth appear.
Page 118 - I do," said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic, as was his wont in speaking of a subject which interested him, " I do, indeed ; and to tell you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind.