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There is a repose about Lant Street, in the Borough, which sheds agentle melancholy upon the soul. There are always a good many houses tolet in the street: it is a by-street too, and its dulness is soothing.A house in Lant Street would not come within the denomination of afirst-rate residence, in the strict acceptation of the term; but it isa most desirable spot nevertheless. If a man wished to abstracthimself from the world--to remove himself from within the reach oftemptation--to place himself beyond the possibility of any inducement tolook out of the window--we should recommend him by all means go to LantStreet.

In this happy retreat are colonised a few clear-starchers, a sprinklingof journeymen bookbinders, one or two prison agents for the InsolventCourt, several small housekeepers who are employed in the Docks, ahandful of mantua-makers, and a seasoning of jobbing tailors. Themajority of the inhabitants either direct their energies to the lettingof furnished apartments, or devote themselves to the healthful andinvigorating pursuit of mangling. The chief features in the still lifeof the street are green shutters, lodging-bills, brass door-plates, andbell-handles; the principal specimens of animated nature, the pot-boy,the muffin youth, and the baked-potato man. The population is migratory,usually disappearing on the verge of quarter-day, and generally bynight. His Majesty's revenues are seldom collected in this happy valley;the rents are dubious; and the water communication is very frequentlycut off.

Mr. Bob Sawyer embellished one side of the fire, in his first-floorfront, early on the evening for which he had invited Mr. Pickwick, andMr. Ben Allen the other. The preparations for the reception of visitorsappeared to be completed. The umbrellas in the passage had been heapedinto the little corner outside the back-parlour door; the bonnet andshawl of the landlady's servant had been removed from the bannisters;there were not more than two pairs of pattens on the street-door mat;and a kitchen candle, with a very long snuff, burned cheerfully on theledge of the staircase window. Mr. Bob Sawyer had himself purchased thespirits at a wine vaults in High Street, and had returned home precedingthe bearer thereof, to preclude the possibility of their delivery atthe wrong house. The punch was ready-made in a red pan in the bedroom;a little table, covered with a green baize cloth, had been borrowed fromthe parlour, to play at cards on; and the glasses of the establishment,together with those which had been borrowed for the occasion from thepublic-house, were all drawn up in a tray, which was deposited on thelanding outside the door.

Notwithstanding the highly satisfactory nature of all thesearrangements, there was a cloud on the countenance of Mr. Bob Sawyer, ashe sat by the fireside. There was a sympathising expression, too, in thefeatures of Mr. Ben Allen, as he gazed intently on the coals, and a toneof melancholy in his voice, as he said, after a long silence--'Well, itis unlucky she should have taken it in her head to turn sour, just onthis occasion. She might at least have waited till to-morrow.'

'That's her malevolence--that's her malevolence,' returned Mr. BobSawyer vehemently. 'She says that if I can afford to give a party Iought to be able to pay her confounded "little bill."' 'How long has itbeen running?' inquired Mr. Ben Allen. A bill, by the bye, is the mostextraordinary locomotive engine that the genius of man ever produced.It would keep on running during the longest lifetime, without ever oncestopping of its own accord.

'Only a quarter, and a month or so,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

Ben Allen coughed hopelessly, and directed a searching look between thetwo top bars of the stove.

'It'll be a deuced unpleasant thing if she takes it into her head tolet out, when those fellows are here, won't it?' said Mr. Ben Allen atlength.

'Horrible,' replied Bob Sawyer, 'horrible.' A low tap was heard at theroom door. Mr. Bob Sawyer looked expressively at his friend, and badethe tapper come in; whereupon a dirty, slipshod girl in black cottonstockings, who might have passed for the neglected daughter of asuperannuated dustman in very reduced circumstances, thrust in her head,and said--

'Please, Mister Sawyer, Missis Raddle wants to speak to you.'

Before Mr. Bob Sawyer could return any answer, the girl suddenlydisappeared with a jerk, as if somebody had given her a violent pullbehind; this mysterious exit was no sooner accomplished, than therewas another tap at the door--a smart, pointed tap, which seemed to say,'Here I am, and in I'm coming.'

Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced at his friend with a look of abject apprehension,and once more cried, 'Come in.'

The permission was not at all necessary, for, before Mr. Bob Sawyer haduttered the words, a little, fierce woman bounced into the room, all ina tremble with passion, and pale with rage.

'Now, Mr. Sawyer,' said the little, fierce woman, trying to appear verycalm, 'if you'll have the kindness to settle that little bill of mineI'll thank you, because I've got my rent to pay this afternoon, and mylandlord's a-waiting below now.' Here the little woman rubbed her hands,and looked steadily over Mr. Bob Sawyer's head, at the wall behind him.

'I am very sorry to put you to any inconvenience, Mrs. Raddle,' said BobSawyer deferentially, 'but--'

'Oh, it isn't any inconvenience,' replied the little woman, with ashrill titter. 'I didn't want it particular before to-day; leastways, asit has to go to my landlord directly, it was as well for you to keep itas me. You promised me this afternoon, Mr. Sawyer, and every gentlemanas has ever lived here, has kept his word, Sir, as of course anybody ascalls himself a gentleman does.' Mrs. Raddle tossed her head, bit herlips, rubbed her hands harder, and looked at the wall more steadilythan ever. It was plain to see, as Mr. Bob Sawyer remarked in a styleof Eastern allegory on a subsequent occasion, that she was 'getting thesteam up.'

'I am very sorry, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob Sawyer, with all imaginablehumility, 'but the fact is, that I have been disappointed in the Cityto-day.'--Extraordinary place that City. An astonishing number of menalways ARE getting disappointed there.

'Well, Mr. Sawyer,' said Mrs. Raddle, planting herself firmly on apurple cauliflower in the Kidderminster carpet, 'and what's that to me,Sir?'

'I--I--have no doubt, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob Sawyer, blinking this lastquestion, 'that before the middle of next week we shall be able to setourselves quite square, and go on, on a better system, afterwards.'

This was all Mrs. Raddle wanted. She had bustled up to the apartment ofthe unlucky Bob Sawyer, so bent upon going into a passion, that, in allprobability, payment would have rather disappointed her than otherwise.She was in excellent order for a little relaxation of the kind, havingjust exchanged a few introductory compliments with Mr. R. in the frontkitchen.

'Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer,' said Mrs. Raddle, elevating her voice forthe information of the neighbours--'do you suppose that I'm a-going dayafter day to let a fellar occupy my lodgings as never thinks of payinghis rent, nor even the very money laid out for the fresh butter and lumpsugar that's bought for his breakfast, and the very milk that's took in,at the street door? Do you suppose a hard-working and industrious womanas has lived in this street for twenty year (ten year over the way, andnine year and three-quarters in this very house) has nothing else to dobut to work herself to death after a parcel of lazy idle fellars, thatare always smoking and drinking, and lounging, when they ought to beglad to turn their hands to anything that would help 'em to pay theirbills? Do you--'

'My good soul,' interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen soothingly.

'Have the goodness to keep your observashuns to yourself, Sir, I beg,'said Mrs. Raddle, suddenly arresting the rapid torrent of her speech,and addressing the third party with impressive slowness and solemnity.'I am not aweer, Sir, that you have any right to address yourconversation to me. I don't think I let these apartments to you, Sir.'

'No, you certainly did not,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

'Very good, Sir,' responded Mrs. Raddle, with lofty politeness. 'Thenp'raps, Sir, you'll confine yourself to breaking the arms and legs ofthe poor people in the hospitals, and keep yourself TO yourself, Sir, orthere may be some persons here as will make you, Sir.'

'But you are such an unreasonable woman,' remonstrated Mr. BenjaminAllen.

'I beg your parding, young man,' said Mrs. Raddle, in a coldperspiration of anger. 'But will you have the goodness just to call methat again, sir?'

'I didn't make use of the word in any invidious sense, ma'am,' repliedMr. Benjamin Allen, growing somewhat uneasy on his own account.

'I beg your parding, young man,' demanded Mrs. Raddle, in a louder andmore imperative tone. 'But who do you call a woman? Did you make thatremark to me, sir?'

'Why, bless my heart!' said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

'Did you apply that name to me, I ask of you, sir?' interrupted Mrs.Raddle, with intense fierceness, throwing the door wide open.

'Why, of course I did,' replied Mr. Benjamin Allen.

'Yes, of course you did,' said Mrs. Raddle, backing gradually to thedoor, and raising her voice to its loudest pitch, for the special behoofof Mr. Raddle in the kitchen. 'Yes, of course you did! And everybodyknows that they may safely insult me in my own 'ouse while my husbandsits sleeping downstairs, and taking no more notice than if I was adog in the streets. He ought to be ashamed of himself (here Mrs. Raddlesobbed) to allow his wife to be treated in this way by a parcel of youngcutters and carvers of live people's bodies, that disgraces the lodgings(another sob), and leaving her exposed to all manner of abuse; a base,faint-hearted, timorous wretch, that's afraid to come upstairs, andface the ruffinly creatures--that's afraid--that's afraid to come!' Mrs.Raddle paused to listen whether the repetition of the taunt had rousedher better half; and finding that it had not been successful, proceededto descend the stairs with sobs innumerable; when there came a louddouble knock at the street door; whereupon she burst into an hystericalfit of weeping, accompanied with dismal moans, which was prolonged untilthe knock had been repeated six times, when, in an uncontrollable burstof mental agony, she threw down all the umbrellas, and disappeared intothe back parlour, closing the door after her with an awful crash.

'Does Mr. Sawyer live here?' said Mr. Pickwick, when the door wasopened.

'Yes,' said the girl, 'first floor. It's the door straight afore you,when you gets to the top of the stairs.' Having given this instruction,the handmaid, who had been brought up among the aboriginal inhabitantsof Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her hand, down the kitchenstairs, perfectly satisfied that she had done everything that couldpossibly be required of her under the circumstances.

Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, after severalineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain; and the friends stumbledupstairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had beenafraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. Raddle.

'How are you?' said the discomfited student. 'Glad to see you--take careof the glasses.' This caution was addressed to Mr. Pickwick, who had puthis hat in the tray.

'Dear me,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'I beg your pardon.'

'Don't mention it, don't mention it,' said Bob Sawyer. 'I'm ratherconfined for room here, but you must put up with all that, when you cometo see a young bachelor. Walk in. You've seen this gentleman before,I think?' Mr. Pickwick shook hands with Mr. Benjamin Allen, and hisfriends followed his example. They had scarcely taken their seats whenthere was another double knock.

'I hope that's Jack Hopkins!' said Mr. Bob Sawyer. 'Hush. Yes, it is.Come up, Jack; come up.'

A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presentedhimself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder-and-lightningbuttons; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false collar.

'You're late, Jack?' said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

'Been detained at Bartholomew's,' replied Hopkins.

'Anything new?'

'No, nothing particular. Rather a good accident brought into thecasualty ward.'

'What was that, sir?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Only a man fallen out of a four pair of stairs' window; but it's a veryfair case indeed.'

'Do you mean that the patient is in a fair way to recover?' inquired Mr.Pickwick. 'No,' replied Mr. Hopkins carelessly. 'No, I should rathersay he wouldn't. There must be a splendid operation, though,to-morrow--magnificent sight if Slasher does it.'

'You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator?' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Bestalive,' replied Hopkins. 'Took a boy's leg out of the socket lastweek--boy ate five apples and a gingerbread cake--exactly two minutesafter it was all over, boy said he wouldn't lie there to be made gameof, and he'd tell his mother if they didn't begin.'

'Dear me!' said Mr. Pickwick, astonished.

'Pooh! That's nothing, that ain't,' said Jack Hopkins. 'Is it, Bob?'

'Nothing at all,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

'By the bye, Bob,' said Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible glance atMr. Pickwick's attentive face, 'we had a curious accident last night. Achild was brought in, who had swallowed a necklace.'

'Swallowed what, Sir?' interrupted Mr. Pickwick. 'A necklace,' repliedJack Hopkins. 'Not all at once, you know, that would be too much--youcouldn't swallow that, if the child did--eh, Mr. Pickwick? ha, ha!'Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratified with his own pleasantry, andcontinued--'No, the way was this. Child's parents were poor peoplewho lived in a court. Child's eldest sister bought a necklace--commonnecklace, made of large black wooden beads. Child being fond of toys,cribbed the necklace, hid it, played with it, cut the string, andswallowed a bead. Child thought it capital fun, went back next day, andswallowed another bead.'

'Bless my heart,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'what a dreadful thing! I beg yourpardon, Sir. Go on.'

'Next day, child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he treatedhimself to three, and so on, till in a week's time he had got throughthe necklace--five-and-twenty beads in all. The sister, who was anindustrious girl, and seldom treated herself to a bit of finery, criedher eyes out, at the loss of the necklace; looked high and low for it;but, I needn't say, didn't find it. A few days afterwards, the familywere at dinner--baked shoulder of mutton, and potatoes under it--thechild, who wasn't hungry, was playing about the room, when suddenlythere was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hailstorm. "Don't dothat, my boy," said the father. "I ain't a-doin' nothing," said thechild. "Well, don't do it again," said the father. There was a shortsilence, and then the noise began again, worse than ever. "If you don'tmind what I say, my boy," said the father, "you'll find yourself in bed,in something less than a pig's whisper." He gave the child a shaketo make him obedient, and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heardbefore. "Why, damme, it's IN the child!" said the father, "he's gotthe croup in the wrong place!" "No, I haven't, father," said the child,beginning to cry, "it's the necklace; I swallowed it, father."--Thefather caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital; the beadsin the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and thepeople looking up in the air, and down in the cellars, to see where theunusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now,' said Jack Hopkins,'and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks about, that they'reobliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for fear he should wake thepatients.'

'That's the most extraordinary case I ever heard of,' said Mr. Pickwick,with an emphatic blow on the table.

'Oh, that's nothing,' said Jack Hopkins. 'Is it, Bob?'

'Certainly not,' replied Bob Sawyer.

'Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, Sir,'said Hopkins.

'So I should be disposed to imagine,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

Another knock at the door announced a large-headed young man in a blackwig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long stock. The nextcomer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned with pink anchors, who wasclosely followed by a pale youth with a plated watchguard. The arrivalof a prim personage in clean linen and cloth boots rendered the partycomplete. The little table with the green baize cover was wheeled out;the first instalment of punch was brought in, in a white jug; and thesucceeding three hours were devoted to VINGT-ET-UN at sixpence adozen, which was only once interrupted by a slight dispute between thescorbutic youth and the gentleman with the pink anchors; in the courseof which, the scorbutic youth intimated a burning desire to pull thenose of the gentleman with the emblems of hope; in reply to which, thatindividual expressed his decided unwillingness to accept of any 'sauce'on gratuitous terms, either from the irascible young gentleman with thescorbutic countenance, or any other person who was ornamented with ahead.

When the last 'natural' had been declared, and the profit and lossaccount of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of allparties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezedthemselves into corners while it was getting ready.

it was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. First of all,it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen asleep with her faceon the kitchen table; this took a little time, and, even when she didanswer the bell, another quarter of an hour was consumed in fruitlessendeavours to impart to her a faint and distant glimmering of reason.The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent, had not beentold to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an oyster with alimp knife and a two-pronged fork; and very little was done in this way.Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham (which wasalso from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in a similarpredicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can; and thecheese went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon the whole,perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters usually are.

After supper, another jug of punch was put upon the table, together witha paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. Then there wasan awful pause; and this awful pause was occasioned by a verycommon occurrence in this sort of place, but a very embarrassing onenotwithstanding.

The fact is, the girl was washing the glasses. The establishment boastedfour: we do not record the circumstance as at all derogatory to Mrs.Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet, that was not short ofglasses. The landlady's glasses were little, thin, blown-glass tumblers,and those which had been borrowed from the public-house were great,dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge gouty leg. Thiswould have been in itself sufficient to have possessed the company withthe real state of affairs; but the young woman of all work had preventedthe possibility of any misconception arising in the mind of anygentleman upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every man's glass away,long before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating, despite thewinks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was to be conveyeddownstairs, and washed forthwith.

It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in thecloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a jokeduring the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity, andavailed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared, hecommenced a long story about a great public character, whose name hehad forgotten, making a particularly happy reply to another eminentand illustrious individual whom he had never been able to identify. Heenlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon divers collateralcircumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote in hand, but forthe life of him he couldn't recollect at that precise moment what theanecdote was, although he had been in the habit of telling the storywith great applause for the last ten years.

'Dear me,' said the prim man in the cloth boots, 'it is a veryextraordinary circumstance.'

'I am sorry you have forgotten it,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancingeagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glassesjingling; 'very sorry.'

'So am I,' responded the prim man, 'because I know it would haveafforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage torecollect it, in the course of half an hour or so.'

The prim man arrived at this point just as the glasses came back, whenMr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the wholetime, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so faras it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had everheard. The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree ofequanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with hislandlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.

'Now, Betsy,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing,at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl hadcollected in the centre of the table--'now, Betsy, the warm water; bebrisk, there's a good girl.'

'You can't have no warm water,' replied Betsy.

'No warm water!' exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.

'No,' said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a moredecided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed.'Missis Raddle said you warn't to have none.'

The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted newcourage to the host.

'Bring up the warm water instantly--instantly!' said Mr. Bob Sawyer,with desperate sternness.

'No. I can't,' replied the girl; 'Missis Raddle raked out the kitchenfire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle.'

'Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don't disturb yourself about sucha trifle,' said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of Bob Sawyer'spassions, as depicted in his countenance, 'cold water will do verywell.'

'Oh, admirably,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

'My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement,'remarked Bob Sawyer, with a ghastly smile; 'I fear I must give herwarning.'

'No, don't,' said Ben Allen.

'I fear I must,' said Bob, with heroic firmness. 'I'll pay her whatI owe her, and give her warning to-morrow morning.' Poor fellow! howdevoutly he wished he could!

Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this last blow,communicated a dispiriting influence to the company, the greater part ofwhom, with the view of raising their spirits, attached themselves withextra cordiality to the cold brandy-and-water, the first perceptibleeffects of which were displayed in a renewal of hostilities between thescorbutic youth and the gentleman in the shirt. The belligerents ventedtheir feelings of mutual contempt, for some time, in a variety offrownings and snortings, until at last the scorbutic youth felt itnecessary to come to a more explicit understanding on the matter;when the following clear understanding took place. 'Sawyer,' said thescorbutic youth, in a loud voice.

'Well, Noddy,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

'I should be very sorry, Sawyer,' said Mr. Noddy, 'to create anyunpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours,Sawyer--very; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. Gunterthat he is no gentleman.'

'And I should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance in thestreet in which you reside,' said Mr. Gunter, 'but I'm afraid I shallbe under the necessity of alarming the neighbours by throwing the personwho has just spoken, out o' window.'

'What do you mean by that, sir?' inquired Mr. Noddy.

'What I say, Sir,' replied Mr. Gunter.

'I should like to see you do it, Sir,' said Mr. Noddy.

'You shall FEEL me do it in half a minute, Sir,' replied Mr. Gunter.

'I request that you'll favour me with your card, Sir,' said Mr. Noddy.

'I'll do nothing of the kind, Sir,' replied Mr. Gunter.

'Why not, Sir?' inquired Mr. Noddy.

'Because you'll stick it up over your chimney-piece, and delude yourvisitors into the false belief that a gentleman has been to see you,Sir,' replied Mr. Gunter.

'Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning,' said Mr.Noddy.

'Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leaveparticular directions with the servant to lock up the spoons,' repliedMr. Gunter.

At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remonstratedwith both parties on the impropriety of their conduct; on which Mr.Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as respectable as Mr.Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied that his father was to thefull as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, and that his father's son wasas good a man as Mr. Noddy, any day in the week. As this announcementseemed the prelude to a recommencement of the dispute, there was anotherinterference on the part of the company; and a vast quantity of talkingand clamouring ensued, in the course of which Mr. Noddy graduallyallowed his feelings to overpower him, and professed that he had everentertained a devoted personal attachment towards Mr. Gunter. To thisMr. Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he rather preferred Mr. Noddyto his own brother; on hearing which admission, Mr. Noddy magnanimouslyrose from his seat, and proffered his hand to Mr. Gunter. Mr. Guntergrasped it with affecting fervour; and everybody said that the wholedispute had been conducted in a manner which was highly honourable toboth parties concerned.

'Now,' said Jack Hopkins, 'just to set us going again, Bob, I don't mindsinging a song.' And Hopkins, incited thereto by tumultuous applause,plunged himself at once into 'The King, God bless him,' which he sang asloud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of the 'Bay of Biscay,' and'A Frog he would.' The chorus was the essence of the song; and, as eachgentleman sang it to the tune he knew best, the effect was very strikingindeed.

It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pickwickheld up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silencewas restored--

'Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling fromupstairs.'

A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr. Bob Sawyer was observedto turn pale.

'I think I hear it now,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Have the goodness to openthe door.'

The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was removed.

'Mr. Sawyer! Mr. Sawyer!' screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.

'It's my landlady,' said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with greatdismay. 'Yes, Mrs. Raddle.'

'What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer?' replied the voice, with greatshrillness and rapidity of utterance. 'Ain't it enough to be swindledout of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abusedand insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men, withouthaving the house turned out of the window, and noise enough made tobring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning?--Turn themwretches away.'

'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' said the voice of Mr. Raddle,which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.

'Ashamed of themselves!' said Mrs. Raddle. 'Why don't you go down andknock 'em every one downstairs? You would if you was a man.' 'I shouldif I was a dozen men, my dear,' replied Mr. Raddle pacifically, 'butthey have the advantage of me in numbers, my dear.'

'Ugh, you coward!' replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. 'DO youmean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer?'

'They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going,' said the miserable Bob.'I am afraid you'd better go,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his friends. 'Ithought you were making too much noise.'

'It's a very unfortunate thing,' said the prim man. 'Just as we weregetting so comfortable too!' The prim man was just beginning to have adawning recollection of the story he had forgotten.

'It's hardly to be borne,' said the prim man, looking round. 'Hardly tobe borne, is it?'

'Not to be endured,' replied Jack Hopkins; 'let's have the other verse,Bob. Come, here goes!'

'No, no, Jack, don't,' interposed Bob Sawyer; 'it's a capital song,but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. They are veryviolent people, the people of the house.'

'Shall I step upstairs, and pitch into the landlord?' inquired Hopkins,'or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the staircase? You maycommand me, Bob.'

'I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good-nature,Hopkins,' said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, 'but I think the best planto avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once.'

'Now, Mr. Sawyer,' screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, 'are thembrutes going?'

'They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob; 'they aregoing directly.'

'Going!' said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her nightcap over the banistersjust as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged from thesitting-room. 'Going! what did they ever come for?'

'My dear ma'am,' remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, looking up.

'Get along with you, old wretch!' replied Mrs. Raddle, hastilywithdrawing the nightcap. 'Old enough to be his grandfather, you willin!You're worse than any of 'em.'

Mr. Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurrieddownstairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr.Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Ben Allen, who was dismallydepressed with spirits and agitation, accompanied them as far as LondonBridge, and in the course of the walk confided to Mr. Winkle, asan especially eligible person to intrust the secret to, that he wasresolved to cut the throat of any gentleman, except Mr. Bob Sawyer, whoshould aspire to the affections of his sister Arabella. Having expressedhis determination to perform this painful duty of a brother with properfirmness, he burst into tears, knocked his hat over his eyes, and,making the best of his way back, knocked double knocks at the door ofthe Borough Market office, and took short naps on the steps alternately,until daybreak, under the firm impression that he lived there, and hadforgotten the key.

The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the rather pressingrequest of Mrs. Raddle, the luckless Mr. Bob Sawyer was left alone, tomeditate on the probable events of to-morrow, and the pleasures of theevening.