conviction that the kitchen chimney was on fire - a calamity which

always presented itself in glowing colours to the old lady's mind, when

anybody about her evinced the smallest agitation.

Mr Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug in bed. Sam

Weller lighted a blazing fire in the room, and took up his dinner; a

bowl of punch was carried up afterwards, and a grand carouse held in

honour of his safety. Old Wardle would not hear of his rising, so they

made the bed the chair, and Mr Pickwick presided. A second and a

third bowl were ordered in; and when Mr Pickwick awoke next

morning, there was not a symptom of rheumatism about him; which

proves, as Mr Bob Sawyer very justly observed, that there is nothing

like hot punch in such cases; and that if ever hot punch did fail to act

as a preventive, it was merely because the patient fell into the vulgar

error of not taking enough of it.

The jovial party broke up next morning. Breakings-up are capital

things in our school-days, but in after life they are painful enough.

Death, self-interest, and fortune's changes, are every day breaking up

many a happy group, and scattering them far and wide; and the boys

and girls never come back again. We do not mean to say that it was

exactly the case in this particular instance; all we wish to inform the

reader is, that the different members of the party dispersed to their

several homes; that Mr Pickwick and his friends once more took their

seats on the top of the Muggleton coach; and that Arabella Allen

repaired to her place of destination, wherever it might have been - we

dare say Mr Winkle knew, but we confess we don't - under the care

and guardianship of her brother Benjamin, and his most intimate and

particular friend, Mr Bob Sawyer.

Before they separated, however, that gentleman and Mr Benjamin

Allen drew Mr Pickwick aside with an air of some mystery; and Mr Bob

Sawyer, thrusting his forefinger between two of Mr Pickwick's ribs,

and thereby displaying his native drollery, and his knowledge of the

anatomy of the human frame, at one and the same time, inquired -

I say, old boy, where do you hang out?' Mr Pickwick replied that he

was at present suspended at the George and Vulture.

I wish you'd come and see me,' said Bob Sawyer.

Nothing would give me greater pleasure,' replied Mr Pickwick.

There's my lodgings,' said Mr Bob Sawyer, producing a card. 'Lant

Street, Borough; it's near Guy's, and handy for me, you know. Little

distance after you've passed St. George's Church - turns out of the

High Street on the right hand side the way.'

The Pickwick Papers