guard the entrance to that enchanted region, he reached the vicar-

general's office in safety and having procured a highly flattering

address on parchment, from the Archbishop of Canterbury, to his

trusty and well-beloved Alfred Jingle and Rachael Wardle, greeting,'

he carefully deposited the mystic document in his pocket, and

retraced his steps in triumph to the Borough.

He was yet on his way to the White Hart, when two plump gentleman

and one thin one entered the yard, and looked round in search of

some authorised person of whom they could make a few inquiries. Mr

Samuel Weller happened to be at that moment engaged in burnishing

a pair of painted tops, the personal property of a farmer who was

refreshing himself with a slight lunch of two or three pounds of cold

beef and a pot or two of porter, after the fatigues of the Borough

market; and to him the thin gentleman straightway advanced.

'My friend,' said the thin gentleman.

'You're one o' the adwice gratis order,' thought Sam, 'or you wouldn't

be so wery fond o' me all at once.' But he only said - 'Well, Sir.'

'My friend,' said the thin gentleman, with a conciliatory hem - 'have

you got many people stopping here now? Pretty busy. Eh?'

Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a little high-dried man, with a

dark squeezed-up face, and small, restless, black eyes, that kept

winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive nose, as if

they were playing a perpetual game of peep-bo with that feature. He

was dressed all in black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, a low white

neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. A gold watch-chain, and

seals, depended from his fob. He carried his black kid gloves IN his

hands, and not ON them; and as he spoke, thrust his wrists beneath

his coat tails, with the air of a man who was in the habit of

propounding some regular posers.

Pretty busy, eh?' said the little man.

Oh, wery well, Sir,' replied Sam, 'we shan't be bankrupts, and we

shan't make our fort'ns. We eats our biled mutton without capers, and

don't care for horse-radish ven ve can get beef.'

Ah,' said the little man, 'you're a wag, ain't you?'

My eldest brother was troubled with that complaint,' said Sam; 'it

may be catching - I used to sleep with him.'

This is a curious old house of yours,' said the little man, looking

round him.

The Pickwick Papers