THE CHIEF FEATURES OF WHICH, WILL BE FOUND TO BEAN AUTHENTIC VERSION OF THE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD, AND A MOST EXTRAORDINARYCALAMITY THAT BEFELL MR.WINKLE
As Mr.Pickwick contemplated a stay of at least two months in Bath, he deemed it advisable to take private lodgings for himself and friends for that period; and as a favourable opportunity offered for their securing, on moderate terms, the upper portion of a house in the Royal Crescent, which was larger than they required, Mr.and Mrs.Dowler offered to relieve them of a bed-room and sitting-room.This proposition was at once accepted, and in three days' time they were all located in their new abode, when Mr.Pickwick began to drink the waters with the utmost assiduity.Mr.Pickwick took them systematically.He drank a quarter of a pint before breakfast, and then walked up a hill; and another quarter of a pint after breakfast, and then walked down a hill; and after every fresh quarter of a pint, Mr.
Pickwick declared, in the most solemn and emphatic terms, that he felt a great deal better: whereat his friends were very much delighted, though they had not been previously aware that there was anything the matter with him.
The great pump-room is a spacious saloon, ornamented with Corinthian pillars, and a music gallery, and a Tompion clock, and a statue of Nash, and a golden inscription, to which all the water-drinkers should attend, for it appeals to them in the cause of a deserving charity.There is a large bar with a marble vase, out of which the pumper gets the water; and there are a number of yellow-looking tumblers, out of which the company get it; and it is a most edifying and satisfactory sight to behold the perseverance and gravity with which they swallow it.There are baths near at hand, in which a part of the company wash themselves; and a band plays afterwards, to congratulate the remainder on their having done so.There is another pump-room, into which infirm ladies and gentlemen are wheeled, in such an astonishing variety of chairs and chaises, that any adventurous individual who goes in with the regular number of toes, is in imminent danger of coming out without them; and there is a third, into which the quiet people go, for it is less noisy than either.There is an immensity of promenading, on crutches and off, with sticks and without, and a great deal of conversation, and liveliness, and pleasantry.
Every morning, the regular water-drinkers, Mr.Pickwick among the number, met each other in the pump-room, took their quarter of a pint, and walked constitutionally.At the afternoon's promenade, Lord Mutanhed, and the Honourable Mr.Crushton, the Dowager Lady Snuphanuph, Mrs.Colonel Wugsby, and all the great people, and all the morning water-drinkers, met in grand assemblage.After this, they walked out, or drove out, or were pushed out in bath chairs, and met one another again.After this, the gentlemen went to the reading-rooms and met divisions of the mass.After this, they went home.If it were theatre night, perhaps they met at the theatre; if it were assembly night, they met at the rooms; and if it were neither, they met the next day.A very pleasant routine, with perhaps a slight tinge of sameness.
Mr.Pickwick was sitting up by himself, after a day spent in this manner, making entries in his journal: his friends having retired to bed: when he was roused by a gentle tap at the room door.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Mrs.Craddock, the landlady, peeping in;"but did you want anything more, sir?"
"Nothing more, ma'am," replied Mr.Pickwick.
"My young girl is gone to bed, sir," said Mrs.Craddock; "and Mr.Dowler is good enough to say that he'll sit up for Mrs.Dowler, as the party isn't expected to be over till late; so I was thinking if you wanted nothing more, Mr.Pickwick, I would go to bed.""By all means, ma'am," replied Mr.Pickwick.
"Wish you good night, sir," said Mrs.Craddock.
"Good night, ma'am," rejoined Mr.Pickwick.
Mrs.Craddock closed the door, and Mr.Pickwick resumed his writing.
In half an hour's time the entries were concluded.Mr.Pickwick carefully rubbed the last page on the blotting-paper, shut up the book, wiped his pen on the bottom of the inside of his coat tail, and opened the drawer of the inkstand to put it carefully away.There were a couple of sheets of writing-paper, pretty closely written over, in the inkstand drawer, and they were folded so, that the title, which was in a good round hand, was fully disclosed to him.Seeing from this, that it was no private document:
and as it seemed to relate to Bath, and was very short: Mr.Pickwick unfolded it, lighted his bed-room candle that it might burn up well by the time he finished; and drawing his chair nearer the fire, read as follows: THE TRUE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD"Less than two hundred years ago, on one of the public baths in this city, there appeared an inscription in honour of its mighty founder, the renowned Prince Bladud.That inscription is now erased.
"For many hundred years before that time, there had been handed down, from age to age, an old legend, that the illustrious Prince being afflicted with leprosy, on his return from reaping a rich harvest of knowledge in Athens, shunned the court of his royal father, and consorted moodily with husband-men and pigs.Among the herd (so said the legend) was a pig of grave and solemn countenance, with whom the Prince had a fellow feeling--for he too was wise--a pig of thoughtful and reserved demeanour; an animal superior to his fellows, whose grunt was terrible, and whose bite was sharp.
The young Prince sighed deeply as he looked upon the countenance of the majestic swine; he thought of his royal father, and his eyes were bedewed with tears.
