'I think Roker might have chummed you somewhere else,' said Mr

Simpson (for it was the leg), after a very discontented sort of a pause.

Mr Pickwick thought so also; but, under all the circumstances, he

considered it a matter of sound policy to be silent. Mr Simpson mused

for a few moments after this, and then, thrusting his head out of the

window, gave a shrill whistle, and pronounced some word aloud,

several times. What the word was, Mr Pickwick could not distinguish;

but he rather inferred that it must be some nickname which

distinguished Mr Martin, from the fact of a great number of gentlemen

on the ground below, immediately proceeding to cry 'Butcher!' in

imitation of the tone in which that useful class of society are wont,

diurnally, to make their presence known at area railings.

Subsequent occurrences confirmed the accuracy of Mr Pickwick's

impression; for, in a few seconds, a gentleman, prematurely broad for

his years, clothed in a professional blue jean frock and top-boots with

circular toes, entered the room nearly out of breath, closely followed

by another gentleman in very shabby black, and a sealskin cap. The

latter gentleman, who fastened his coat all the way up to his chin by

means of a pin and a button alternately, had a very coarse red face,

and looked like a drunken chaplain; which, indeed, he was.

These two gentlemen having by turns perused Mr Pickwick's billet, the

one expressed his opinion that it was 'a rig,' and the other his

conviction that it was 'a go.' Having recorded their feelings in these

very intelligible terms, they looked at Mr Pickwick and each other in

awkward silence.

'It's an aggravating thing, just as we got the beds so snug,' said the

chaplain, looking at three dirty mattresses, each rolled up in a

blanket; which occupied one corner of the room during the day, and

formed a kind of slab, on which were placed an old cracked basin,

ewer, and soap-dish, of common yellow earthenware, with a blue

flower - 'very aggravating.'

Mr Martin expressed the same opinion in rather stronger terms; Mr

Simpson, after having let a variety of expletive adjectives loose upon

society without any substantive to accompany them, tucked up his

sleeves, and began to wash the greens for dinner.

While this was going on, Mr Pickwick had been eyeing the room,

which was filthily dirty, and smelt intolerably close. There was no

vestige of either carpet, curtain, or blind. There was not even a closet

in it. Unquestionably there were but few things to put away, if there

had been one; but, however few in number, or small in individual

amount, still, remnants of loaves and pieces of cheese, and damp

towels, and scrags of meat, and articles of wearing apparel, and

The Pickwick Papers