THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT
Reading edition
FIFTY-NINE ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRED BARNARD
"I see you," cried Miss Pecksniff to the ideal inflictor of a runaway knock, "you'll catch it; sir!"—Chap. ii.
Mr. Pecksniff, looking sweetly over the half-door of the par, and into the vista of snug privacy beyond, murmured, "Good evening, Mrs. Lupin"—Chap. iii.
"We will say, if you please," added Mr. Pecksniff, with great tenderness of manner, "that it arises from a cold in the head, or is attributable to snuff, or smelling salts, or onions, or anything but the real cause"—Chap. iii.
Mr. Pecksniff is introduced to a relative by Mr. Tigg—Chap. iv.
"He turned a whimsical face and very merry pair of blue eyes on Mr. Pinch."—Chap. v.
"Let us be merry." Here he took a captain's biscuit—Chap. v.
"Still a-bed," replied the boy; "I wish they wos still a-bed. They're very noisy a-bed; all calling for their boots at once"—Chap. viii.
"Oh Chiv, Chiv," murmured Mr. Tigg, "you have a nobly independent nature, Chiv"—Chap. vii.
"You're a pair of Whittingtons, gents, without the cat, . . . My name is Tigg; how do you do?"—Chap. vii.
"I say—there's fowls to-morrow, not skinny ones. Oh no!"—Chap. ix.
"Do not repine, my friends," said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. "Do not weep for me. It is chronic"—Chap. ix.
"We sometimes venture to consider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speaking as an artist, I may perhaps be permitted to suggest, that its outline is graceful and correct"—Chap. x.
The door of a small glass office, which was partitioned off from the rest of the room, was slowly opened, and a little blear-eyed, weazen-faced, ancient man came creeping out.—Chap. xi.
"Stand off for a moment, Tom," cried the old pupil, . . . "Let me look at you! Just the same! Not a bit changed!"—Chap. xii.
"I'm going up," observed the driver; "Hounslow, ten miles this side London"—Chap. xiii.
Stuck his hands in his skirt pockets and swaggered round the corner.—Chap. xiii.
Seeing that there was no one near, and that Mark was still intent upon the fog, he not only looked at her lips, but kissed them into the bargain—Chap. xiv.
On board the "Screw"—Chap. xv.
"It is in such enlightened means," said a voice almost in Martin's ear, "that the bubbling passions of my country find a vent"—Chap. xvi.
"You're the pleasantest fellow I have seen yet," said Martin, clapping him on the back, "and give me a better appetite than bitters"—Chap. xvi.
Jiniral Bladdock!—Chap. xvii.
"Matter!" cried the voice of Mr. Pecksniff, as Pecksniff in the flesh smiled amiably upon him. "The matter, Mr. Jonas!"—Chap. xviii.
"Well, Mrs. Gamp, and how are you! Mrs. Gamp," said the gentleman, in a voice as soft as his step—Chap. xix.
"Oh! I don't mind your pinching," grinned Jonas, "a bit"—Chap. xx.
"I was merely remarking, gentlemen—though it's a point of very little import—that the Queen Of England does not happen to live in the Tower of London"—Chap. xxi.
"Well, sir!" said the captain putting his hat a little more on one side, for it was rather tight in the crown: "You're quite a public man I calc'late"—Chap. xxii.
He flourished his stick over Tom's head; but in a moment it was spinning harmlessly in the air, and Jonas Himself Lay Sprawling in the Ditch—Chap. xxiv.
"Look about you," he said, pointing to the graves; "and remember that from your bridal hour to the day which sees you brought as low as these, and laid in such a bed, there will be no appeal against him!"—Chap. xxiv.
"Whether I sicks or monthlies, ma'am . . . I do require it, which I makes confession, to be brought reg'lar and draw'd mild"—Chap. xxv.
"There's nothin' he don't know; that's my opinion," observed Mrs. Gamp. "All the wickedness of the world is print to him"—Chap. xxvi.
The Spider and the Fly—Chap. xxvii.
"Times is changed, ain't they! I say, how you've growed!"—Chap. xxviii.
Rustling among last year's leaves, whose scent woke memory of the past, the placid Pecksniff strolled—Chap. xxx.
"I say," cried Tom, in great excitement, "He is a scoundrel and a villain! I don't care who he is, I say he is a double-dyed and most intolerable villain"—Chap. xxxi.
"Mr. Pinch," said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his head, "Oh, Mr. Pinch! I wonder how you can look me in the face!"—Chap. xxxi.
On the fourteenth night he kissed Miss Pecksniff's snuffers, in the passage, when she went upstairs to bed: meaning to have kissed her hand, but missing it—Chap. xxii.
"Jolly"—Chap. xxxiii.
"Why, what the 'tarnal!" cried the captain. "Well! I do admire at this, I do!"—Chap. xxxiv.
Mr. Pecksniff, placid, calm, but proud. Honestly proud . . . gently travelling across the disc, as if he were a figure in a magic lantern—Chap. xxxv.
"No right!" cried the brass and copper founder—Chap. xxxvi.
Mr. Nadgett produces the result of his private inquiries—Chap. xxxviii.
"I am going to begin, Tom. Don't you wonder why I butter the inside of the basin!" said his busy little sister, "eh, Tom?"—Chap. xxxix.
"I can't say; it's impossible to tell. I really have no idea. But," said Fips, taking off a very deep impression of the wafer-stamp upon the calf of his left leg, and looking steadily at Tom, "I don't know that it's a matter of much consequence"—Chap. xxxix.
Mrs. Gamp creates a sensation with her umbrella—Chap. xl.
"Now, could you cut a mans throat with such a thing as this!" demanded Jonas—Chap. xli.
Awoke to find Jonas standing at his bedside watching him. And that very door wide open.—Chap. xlii.
Familiar faces—Chap. xliii.
"Oh fie, fie!" cried Mr. Pecksniff. "You are very pleasant. That I am sure you don't! That I am sure you don't! How can you, you know"—Chap. xliv.
Mr. Moddle, with a dark look, replied: "The drivers won't do it"—Chap. xlvi.
Mrs. Gamp favours the company with an exhibition of professional skill—Chap. xlvi.
Done—Chap. xlvii.
"Speak out!" said Martin, "and speak the truth"—Chap. xlvii.
Then Mrs. Gamp rose—morally and physically rose—and denounced her—Chap. xlix.
Brother and sister—Chap. l.
He started back as his eyes met those, standing in an angle of the wall, and staring at him. His neckerchief was off; his face was ashy pale—Chap. li.
The fall of Pecksniff—Chap. lii.
"Yes sir," returned Miss Pecksniff, modestly, "I am. I—my dress is rather—really Mrs. Todgers!"—Chap. liv.
Tom's reverie—Chap. liv.
