'When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his breath, which the

rapidity of his descent had for the moment taken away, he found

himself in what appeared to be a large cavern, surrounded on all sides

by crowds of goblins, ugly and grim; in the centre of the room, on an

elevated seat, was stationed his friend of the churchyard; and close

behind him stood Gabriel Grub himself, without power of motion.

‘Cold to-night,’ said the king of the goblins, ‘very cold. A glass of

something warm here!’

At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, with a perpetual

smile upon their faces, whom Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers,

on that account, hastily disappeared, and presently returned with a

goblet of liquid fire, which they presented to the king.

‘Ah!’ cried the goblin, whose cheeks and throat were transparent, as

he tossed down the flame, ‘this warms one, indeed! Bring a bumper of

the same, for Mr Grub.’

It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest that he was not in

the habit of taking anything warm at night; one of the goblins held

him while another poured the blazing liquid down his throat; the

whole assembly screeched with laughter, as he coughed and choked,

and wiped away the tears which gushed plentifully from his eyes, after

swallowing the burning draught.

'‘And now,’ said the king, fantastically poking the taper corner of his

sugar-loaf hat into the sexton's eye, and thereby occasioning him the

most exquisite pain; ‘and now, show the man of misery and gloom, a

few of the pictures from our own great storehouse!’

As the goblin said this, a thick cloud which obscured the remoter end

of the cavern rolled gradually away, and disclosed, apparently at a

great distance, a small and scantily furnished, but neat and clean

apartment. A crowd of little children were gathered round a bright fire,

clinging to their mother's gown, and gambolling around her chair. The

mother occasionally rose, and drew aside the window-curtain, as if to

look for some expected object; a frugal meal was ready spread upon

the table; and an elbow chair was placed near the fire. A knock was

heard at the door; the mother opened it, and the children crowded

round her, and clapped their hands for joy, as their father entered. He

was wet and weary, and shook the snow from his garments, as the

children crowded round him, and seizing his cloak, hat, stick, and

gloves, with busy zeal, ran with them from the room. Then, as he sat

down to his meal before the fire, the children climbed about his knee,

and the mother sat by his side, and all seemed happiness and

comfort. 'But a change came upon the view, almost imperceptibly. The

scene was altered to a small bedroom, where the fairest and youngest

The Pickwick Papers