a thick stick with a big top. He eschewed gloves, and looked, upon the

whole, something like a dissipated Robinson Crusoe.

Such were the two worthies to whom Mr Pickwick was introduced, as

he took his seat at the breakfast-table on Christmas morning.

Splendid morning, gentlemen,' said Mr Pickwick.

Mr Bob Sawyer slightly nodded his assent to the proposition, and

asked Mr Benjamin Allen for the mustard.

Have you come far this morning, gentlemen?' inquired Mr Pickwick.

Blue Lion at Muggleton,' briefly responded Mr Allen.

You should have joined us last night,' said Mr Pickwick.

So we should,' replied Bob Sawyer, 'but the brandy was too good to

leave in a hurry; wasn't it, Ben?'

Certainly,' said Mr Benjamin Allen; 'and the cigars were not bad, or

the pork-chops either; were they, Bob?'

Decidedly not,' said Bob. The particular friends resumed their attack

upon the breakfast, more freely than before, as if the recollection of

last night's supper had imparted a new relish to the meal.

'Peg away, Bob,' said Mr Allen, to his companion, encouragingly.

'So I do,' replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do him justice, he did.

'Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appetite,' said Mr Bob Sawyer,

looking round the table.

Mr Pickwick slightly shuddered.

'By the bye, Bob,' said Mr Allen, 'have you finished that leg yet?'

Nearly,' replied Sawyer, helping himself to half a fowl as he spoke. 'It's

a very muscular one for a child's.' 'Is it?' inquired Mr Allen carelessly.

'Very,' said Bob Sawyer, with his mouth full.

'I've put my name down for an arm at our place,' said Mr Allen. 'We're

clubbing for a subject, and the list is nearly full, only we can't get hold

of any fellow that wants a head. I wish you'd take it.'

'No,' replied 'Bob Sawyer; 'can't afford expensive luxuries.'

The Pickwick Papers