discussion which might possibly
corrupt Martin, forbore to say anything in reply to this speech; but
John Westlock, whom nothing short of an iron gag would have
silenced when Mr Pecksniff's merits were once in question, continued
notwithstanding.

'HIS feelings! Oh, he's a tender-hearted man. HIS feelings! Oh, he's a
considerate, conscientious, self-examining, moral vagabond, he is! HIS
feelings! Oh!--what's the matter, Tom?'

Mr Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug, buttoning his coat
with great energy.

'I can't bear it,' said Tom, shaking his head. 'No. I really cannot. You
must excuse me, John. I have a great esteem and friendship for you;
I love you very much; and have been perfectly charmed and overjoyed
to-day, to find you just the same as ever; but I cannot listen to this.'

'Why, it's my old way, Tom; and you say yourself that you are glad to
find me unchanged.'

'Not in this respect,' said Tom Pinch. 'You must excuse me, John. I
cannot, really; I will not. It's very wrong; you should be more guarded
in your expressions. It was bad enough when you and I used to be alone
together, but under existing circumstances, I can't endure it, really.
No. I cannot, indeed.'

'You are quite right!' exclaimed the other, exchanging looks with
Martin. 'and I am quite wrong, Tom, I don't know how the deuce we fell
on this unlucky theme. I beg your pardon with all my heart.'

'You have a free and manly temper, I know,' said Pinch; 'and therefore,
your being so ungenerous in this one solitary instance, only grieves
me the more. It's not my pardon you have to ask, John. You have done ME
nothing but kindnesses.'

'Well! Pecksniff's pardon then,' said young Westlock. 'Anything Tom,
or anybody. Pecksniff's pardon--will that do? Here! let us drink
Pecksniff's health!'

'Thank you,' cried Tom, shaking hands with him eagerly, and filling
a bumper. 'Thank you; I'll drink it with all my heart, John. Mr
Pecksniff's health, and prosperity to him!'

John Westlock echoed the sentiment, or nearly so; for he drank Mr
Pecksniff's health, and Something to him--but what, was not quite
audible. The general unanimity being then completely restored, they drew
their chairs closer round the fire, and conversed in perfect harmony and
enjoyment until bed-time.

No slight circumstance, perhaps, could have better illustrated the
difference of character between John Westlock and Martin Chuzzlewit,
than the manner in which each of