Serpent, Sir! Serpent, Mr Pott! What can you mean, Sir? - this is

pleasantry.'

'Pleasantry, sir!' exclaimed Pott, with a motion of the hand, indicative

of a strong desire to hurl the Britannia metal teapot at the head of the

visitor. 'Pleasantry, sir! - But - no, I will be calm; I will be calm, Sir;' in

proof of his calmness, Mr Pott flung himself into a chair, and foamed

at the mouth.

'My dear sir,' interposed Mr Winkle.

DEAR Sir!' replied Pott. 'How dare you address me, as dear Sir, Sir?

How dare you look me in the face and do it, sir?'

Well, Sir, if you come to that,' responded Mr Winkle, 'how dare you

look me in the face, and call me a serpent, sir?'

'Because you are one,' replied Mr Pott.

'Prove it, Sir,' said Mr Winkle warmly. 'Prove it.'

A malignant scowl passed over the profound face of the editor, as he

drew from his pocket the INDEPENDENT of that morning; and laying

his finger on a particular paragraph, threw the journal across the

table to Mr Winkle.

That gentleman took it up, and read as follows: -

Our obscure and filthy contemporary, in some disgusting

observations on the recent election for this borough, has presumed to

violate the hallowed sanctity of private life, and to refer,

in a manner not to be misunderstood, to the personal affairs of our

late candidate - aye, and notwithstanding his base defeat, we will add,

our future member, Mr Fizkin. What does our dastardly contemporary

mean? What would the ruffian say, if we, setting at naught, like him,

the decencies of social intercourse, were to raise the curtain which

happily conceals His private life from general ridicule, not to say from

general execration? What, if we were even to point out, and comment

on, facts and circumstances, which are publicly notorious, and beheld

by every one but our mole-eyed contemporary - what if we were to

print the following effusion, which we received while we were writing

the commencement of this article, from a talented fellow-townsman

and correspondent?

'‘LINES TO A BRASS POT

The Pickwick Papers