The voice had no sooner ceased than the room was shaken with such

violence that the windows rattled in their frames, and the bedsteads

trembled again. Mr Pickwick started up, and remained for some

minutes fixed in mute astonishment at the scene before him.

On the floor of the room, a man in a broad-skirted green coat, with

corduroy knee-smalls and gray cotton stockings, was performing the

most popular steps of a hornpipe, with a slang and burlesque

caricature of grace and lightness, which, combined with the very

appropriate character of his costume, was inexpressibly absurd.

Another man, evidently very drunk, who had probably been tumbled

into bed by his companions, was sitting up between the sheets,

warbling as much as he could recollect of a comic song, with the most

intensely sentimental feeling and expression; while a third, seated on

one of the bedsteads, was applauding both performers with the air of

a profound connoisseur, and encouraging them by such ebullitions of

feeling as had already roused Mr Pickwick from his sleep.

This last man was an admirable specimen of a class of gentry which

never can be seen in full perfection but in such places - they may be

met with, in an imperfect state, occasionally about stable-yards and

Public-houses; but they never attain their full bloom except in these

hot-beds, which would almost seem to be considerately provided by

the legislature for the sole purpose of rearing them.

He was a tall fellow, with an olive complexion, long dark hair, and very

thick bushy whiskers meeting under his chin. He wore no neckerchief,

as he had been playing rackets all day, and his Open shirt collar

displayed their full luxuriance. On his head he wore one of the

common eighteenpenny French skull-caps, with a gaudy tassel

dangling therefrom, very happily in keeping with a common fustian

coat. His legs, which, being long, were afflicted with weakness, graced

a pair of Oxford-mixture trousers, made to show the full symmetry of

those limbs. Being somewhat negligently braced, however, and,

moreover, but imperfectly buttoned, they fell in a series of not the

most graceful folds over a pair of shoes sufficiently down at heel to

display a pair of very soiled white stockings. There was a rakish,

vagabond smartness, and a kind of boastful rascality, about the whole

man, that was worth a mine of gold.

This figure was the first to perceive that Mr Pickwick was looking on;

upon which he winked to the Zephyr, and entreated him, with mock

gravity, not to wake the gentleman. 'Why, bless the gentleman's

honest heart and soul!' said the Zephyr, turning round and affecting

the extremity of surprise; 'the gentleman is awake. Hem, Shakespeare!

How do you do, Sir? How is Mary and Sarah, sir? and the dear old

lady at home, Sir? Will you have the kindness to put my compliments

into the first little parcel you're sending that way, sir, and say that I

The Pickwick Papers