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The morning of the thirteenth of February, which the readers of thisauthentic narrative know, as well as we do, to have been the dayimmediately preceding that which was appointed for the trial of Mrs.Bardell's action, was a busy time for Mr. Samuel Weller, who wasperpetually engaged in travelling from the George and Vulture to Mr.Perker's chambers and back again, from and between the hours of nineo'clock in the morning and two in the afternoon, both inclusive. Notthat there was anything whatever to be done, for the consultationhad taken place, and the course of proceeding to be adopted, had beenfinally determined on; but Mr. Pickwick being in a most extreme stateof excitement, persevered in constantly sending small notes to hisattorney, merely containing the inquiry, 'Dear Perker. Is all goingon well?' to which Mr. Perker invariably forwarded the reply, 'DearPickwick. As well as possible'; the fact being, as we have alreadyhinted, that there was nothing whatever to go on, either well or ill,until the sitting of the court on the following morning.

But people who go voluntarily to law, or are taken forcibly there, forthe first time, may be allowed to labour under some temporary irritationand anxiety; and Sam, with a due allowance for the frailties ofhuman nature, obeyed all his master's behests with that imperturbablegood-humour and unruffable composure which formed one of his moststriking and amiable characteristics.

Sam had solaced himself with a most agreeable little dinner, and waswaiting at the bar for the glass of warm mixture in which Mr. Pickwickhad requested him to drown the fatigues of his morning's walks, when ayoung boy of about three feet high, or thereabouts, in a hairy cap andfustian overalls, whose garb bespoke a laudable ambition to attain intime the elevation of an hostler, entered the passage of the George andVulture, and looked first up the stairs, and then along the passage,and then into the bar, as if in search of somebody to whom he bore acommission; whereupon the barmaid, conceiving it not improbable thatthe said commission might be directed to the tea or table spoons of theestablishment, accosted the boy with--

'Now, young man, what do you want?'

'Is there anybody here, named Sam?' inquired the youth, in a loud voiceof treble quality.

'What's the t'other name?' said Sam Weller, looking round.

'How should I know?' briskly replied the young gentleman below the hairycap. 'You're a sharp boy, you are,' said Mr. Weller; 'only I wouldn'tshow that wery fine edge too much, if I was you, in case anybody took itoff. What do you mean by comin' to a hot-el, and asking arter Sam, vithas much politeness as a vild Indian?'

''Cos an old gen'l'm'n told me to,' replied the boy.

'What old gen'l'm'n?' inquired Sam, with deep disdain.

'Him as drives a Ipswich coach, and uses our parlour,' rejoined theboy. 'He told me yesterday mornin' to come to the George and Wultur thisarternoon, and ask for Sam.'

'It's my father, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, turning with an explanatoryair to the young lady in the bar; 'blessed if I think he hardly knowswot my other name is. Well, young brockiley sprout, wot then?'

'Why then,' said the boy, 'you was to come to him at six o'clock to our'ouse, 'cos he wants to see you--Blue Boar, Leaden'all Markit. Shall Isay you're comin'?'

'You may wenture on that 'ere statement, Sir,' replied Sam. And thusempowered, the young gentleman walked away, awakening all the echoesin George Yard as he did so, with several chaste and extremely correctimitations of a drover's whistle, delivered in a tone of peculiarrichness and volume.

Mr. Weller having obtained leave of absence from Mr. Pickwick, who, inhis then state of excitement and worry, was by no means displeased atbeing left alone, set forth, long before the appointed hour, and havingplenty of time at his disposal, sauntered down as far as the MansionHouse, where he paused and contemplated, with a face of great calmnessand philosophy, the numerous cads and drivers of short stages whoassemble near that famous place of resort, to the great terror andconfusion of the old-lady population of these realms. Having loiteredhere, for half an hour or so, Mr. Weller turned, and began wendinghis way towards Leadenhall Market, through a variety of by-streets andcourts. As he was sauntering away his spare time, and stopped to look atalmost every object that met his gaze, it is by no means surprisingthat Mr. Weller should have paused before a small stationer's andprint-seller's window; but without further explanation it does appearsurprising that his eyes should have no sooner rested on certainpictures which were exposed for sale therein, than he gave a suddenstart, smote his right leg with great vehemence, and exclaimed, withenergy, 'if it hadn't been for this, I should ha' forgot all about it,till it was too late!'

The particular picture on which Sam Weller's eyes were fixed, as he saidthis, was a highly-coloured representation of a couple of human heartsskewered together with an arrow, cooking before a cheerful fire, while amale and female cannibal in modern attire, the gentleman being clad in ablue coat and white trousers, and the lady in a deep red pelisse witha parasol of the same, were approaching the meal with hungry eyes, up aserpentine gravel path leading thereunto. A decidedly indelicateyoung gentleman, in a pair of wings and nothing else, was depicted assuperintending the cooking; a representation of the spire of the churchin Langham Place, London, appeared in the distance; and the wholeformed a 'valentine,' of which, as a written inscription in the windowtestified, there was a large assortment within, which the shopkeeperpledged himself to dispose of, to his countrymen generally, at thereduced rate of one-and-sixpence each.

'I should ha' forgot it; I should certainly ha' forgot it!' said Sam; sosaying, he at once stepped into the stationer's shop, and requestedto be served with a sheet of the best gilt-edged letter-paper, and ahard-nibbed pen which could be warranted not to splutter. These articleshaving been promptly supplied, he walked on direct towards LeadenhallMarket at a good round pace, very different from his recent lingeringone. Looking round him, he there beheld a signboard on which thepainter's art had delineated something remotely resembling a ceruleanelephant with an aquiline nose in lieu of trunk. Rightly conjecturingthat this was the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into the house, andinquired concerning his parent.

'He won't be here this three-quarters of an hour or more,' said theyoung lady who superintended the domestic arrangements of the Blue Boar.

'Wery good, my dear,' replied Sam. 'Let me have nine-penn'oth o'brandy-and-water luke, and the inkstand, will you, miss?'

The brandy-and-water luke, and the inkstand, having been carried intothe little parlour, and the young lady having carefully flatteneddown the coals to prevent their blazing, and carried away the poker topreclude the possibility of the fire being stirred, without the fullprivity and concurrence of the Blue Boar being first had and obtained,Sam Weller sat himself down in a box near the stove, and pulled out thesheet of gilt-edged letter-paper, and the hard-nibbed pen. Then lookingcarefully at the pen to see that there were no hairs in it, and dustingdown the table, so that there might be no crumbs of bread under thepaper, Sam tucked up the cuffs of his coat, squared his elbows, andcomposed himself to write.

To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting themselvespractically to the science of penmanship, writing a letter is no veryeasy task; it being always considered necessary in such cases for thewriter to recline his head on his left arm, so as to place his eyesas nearly as possible on a level with the paper, and, while glancingsideways at the letters he is constructing, to form with histongue imaginary characters to correspond. These motions, althoughunquestionably of the greatest assistance to original composition,retard in some degree the progress of the writer; and Sam hadunconsciously been a full hour and a half writing words in small text,smearing out wrong letters with his little finger, and putting in newones which required going over very often to render them visible throughthe old blots, when he was roused by the opening of the door and theentrance of his parent.

'Vell, Sammy,' said the father.

'Vell, my Prooshan Blue,' responded the son, laying down his pen.'What's the last bulletin about mother-in-law?'

'Mrs. Veller passed a very good night, but is uncommon perwerse, andunpleasant this mornin'. Signed upon oath, Tony Veller, Esquire. That'sthe last vun as was issued, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, untying hisshawl.

'No better yet?' inquired Sam.

'All the symptoms aggerawated,' replied Mr. Weller, shaking hishead. 'But wot's that, you're a-doin' of? Pursuit of knowledge underdifficulties, Sammy?'

'I've done now,' said Sam, with slight embarrassment; 'I've beena-writin'.'

'So I see,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Not to any young 'ooman, I hope,Sammy?'

'Why, it's no use a-sayin' it ain't,' replied Sam; 'it's a walentine.'

'A what!' exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by the word.

'A walentine,' replied Sam. 'Samivel, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, inreproachful accents, 'I didn't think you'd ha' done it. Arter thewarnin' you've had o' your father's wicious propensities; arter allI've said to you upon this here wery subject; arter actiwally seein'and bein' in the company o' your own mother-in-law, vich I should ha'thought wos a moral lesson as no man could never ha' forgotten to hisdyin' day! I didn't think you'd ha' done it, Sammy, I didn't think you'dha' done it!' These reflections were too much for the good old man. Heraised Sam's tumbler to his lips and drank off its contents.

'Wot's the matter now?' said Sam.

'Nev'r mind, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, 'it'll be a wery agonisin'trial to me at my time of life, but I'm pretty tough, that's vunconsolation, as the wery old turkey remarked wen the farmer said he wosafeerd he should be obliged to kill him for the London market.'

'Wot'll be a trial?' inquired Sam. 'To see you married, Sammy--to seeyou a dilluded wictim, and thinkin' in your innocence that it's allwery capital,' replied Mr. Weller. 'It's a dreadful trial to a father'sfeelin's, that 'ere, Sammy--'

'Nonsense,' said Sam. 'I ain't a-goin' to get married, don't you fretyourself about that; I know you're a judge of these things. Order inyour pipe and I'll read you the letter. There!'

We cannot distinctly say whether it was the prospect of the pipe, or theconsolatory reflection that a fatal disposition to get married ran inthe family, and couldn't be helped, which calmed Mr. Weller's feelings,and caused his grief to subside. We should be rather disposed tosay that the result was attained by combining the two sources ofconsolation, for he repeated the second in a low tone, very frequently;ringing the bell meanwhile, to order in the first. He then divestedhimself of his upper coat; and lighting the pipe and placing himself infront of the fire with his back towards it, so that he could feel itsfull heat, and recline against the mantel-piece at the same time, turnedtowards Sam, and, with a countenance greatly mollified by the softeninginfluence of tobacco, requested him to 'fire away.'

Sam dipped his pen into the ink to be ready for any corrections, andbegan with a very theatrical air--

'"Lovely--"'

'Stop,' said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. 'A double glass o' theinwariable, my dear.'

'Very well, Sir,' replied the girl; who with great quickness appeared,vanished, returned, and disappeared.

'They seem to know your ways here,' observed Sam.

'Yes,' replied his father, 'I've been here before, in my time. Go on,Sammy.'

'"Lovely creetur,"' repeated Sam.

''Tain't in poetry, is it?' interposed his father.

'No, no,' replied Sam.

'Wery glad to hear it,' said Mr. Weller. 'Poetry's unnat'ral; no manever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin'-day, or Warren's blackin',or Rowland's oil, or some of them low fellows; never you let yourselfdown to talk poetry, my boy. Begin agin, Sammy.'

Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity, and Sam once morecommenced, and read as follows:

'"Lovely creetur I feel myself a damned--"' 'That ain't proper,' saidMr. Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth.

'No; it ain't "damned,"' observed Sam, holding the letter up to thelight, 'it's "shamed," there's a blot there--"I feel myself ashamed."'

'Wery good,' said Mr. Weller. 'Go on.'

'Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir--' I forget what this hereword is,' said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in vain attemptsto remember.

'Why don't you look at it, then?' inquired Mr. Weller.

'So I am a-lookin' at it,' replied Sam, 'but there's another blot.Here's a "c," and a "i," and a "d."'

'Circumwented, p'raps,' suggested Mr. Weller.

'No, it ain't that,' said Sam, '"circumscribed"; that's it.'

'That ain't as good a word as "circumwented," Sammy,' said Mr. Wellergravely.

'Think not?' said Sam.

'Nothin' like it,' replied his father.

'But don't you think it means more?' inquired Sam.

'Vell p'raps it's a more tenderer word,' said Mr. Weller, after a fewmoments' reflection. 'Go on, Sammy.'

'"Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in a-dressin' of you,for you are a nice gal and nothin' but it."'

'That's a wery pretty sentiment,' said the elder Mr. Weller, removinghis pipe to make way for the remark.

'Yes, I think it is rayther good,' observed Sam, highly flattered.

'Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin',' said the elder Mr. Weller,'is, that there ain't no callin' names in it--no Wenuses, nor nothin' o'that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus or a angel,Sammy?'

'Ah! what, indeed?' replied Sam.

'You might jist as well call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or a king'sarms at once, which is wery well known to be a collection o' fabulousanimals,' added Mr. Weller.

'Just as well,' replied Sam.

'Drive on, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller.

Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows; his fathercontinuing to smoke, with a mixed expression of wisdom and complacency,which was particularly edifying.

'"Afore I see you, I thought all women was alike."'

'So they are,' observed the elder Mr. Weller parenthetically.

'"But now,"' continued Sam, '"now I find what a reg'lar soft-headed,inkred'lous turnip I must ha' been; for there ain't nobody like you,though I like you better than nothin' at all." I thought it best to makethat rayther strong,' said Sam, looking up.

Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed.

'"So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary, my dear--as the gen'l'm'nin difficulties did, ven he valked out of a Sunday--to tell you that thefirst and only time I see you, your likeness was took on my hart in muchquicker time and brighter colours than ever a likeness was took by theprofeel macheen (wich p'raps you may have heerd on Mary my dear) althoit DOES finish a portrait and put the frame and glass on complete,with a hook at the end to hang it up by, and all in two minutes and aquarter."'

'I am afeerd that werges on the poetical, Sammy,' said Mr. Wellerdubiously.

'No, it don't,' replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to avoidcontesting the point--

'"Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over what I'vesaid.--My dear Mary I will now conclude." That's all,' said Sam.

'That's rather a Sudden pull-up, ain't it, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller.

'Not a bit on it,' said Sam; 'she'll vish there wos more, and that's thegreat art o' letter-writin'.'

'Well,' said Mr. Weller, 'there's somethin' in that; and I wish yourmother-in-law 'ud only conduct her conwersation on the same gen-teelprinciple. Ain't you a-goin' to sign it?'

'That's the difficulty,' said Sam; 'I don't know what to sign it.'

'Sign it--"Veller",' said the oldest surviving proprietor of that name.

'Won't do,' said Sam. 'Never sign a walentine with your own name.'

'Sign it "Pickwick," then,' said Mr. Weller; 'it's a wery good name, anda easy one to spell.' 'The wery thing,' said Sam. 'I COULD end with awerse; what do you think?'

'I don't like it, Sam,' rejoined Mr. Weller. 'I never know'd arespectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin'copy o' werses the night afore he was hung for a highway robbery; and hewos only a Cambervell man, so even that's no rule.'

But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the poetical idea that had occurredto him, so he signed the letter--

'Your love-sick Pickwick.'

And having folded it, in a very intricate manner, squeezed a downhilldirection in one corner: 'To Mary, Housemaid, at Mr. Nupkins's, Mayor's,Ipswich, Suffolk'; and put it into his pocket, wafered, and ready forthe general post. This important business having been transacted, Mr.Weller the elder proceeded to open that, on which he had summoned hisson.

'The first matter relates to your governor, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller.'He's a-goin' to be tried to-morrow, ain't he?'

'The trial's a-comin' on,' replied Sam.

'Vell,' said Mr. Weller, 'Now I s'pose he'll want to call some witnessesto speak to his character, or p'rhaps to prove a alleybi. I've beena-turnin' the bis'ness over in my mind, and he may make his-self easy,Sammy. I've got some friends as'll do either for him, but my adwice'ud be this here--never mind the character, and stick to the alleybi.Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing.' Mr. Weller looked very profoundas he delivered this legal opinion; and burying his nose in his tumbler,winked over the top thereof, at his astonished son. 'Why, what do youmean?' said Sam; 'you don't think he's a-goin' to be tried at the OldBailey, do you?'

'That ain't no part of the present consideration, Sammy,' replied Mr.Weller. 'Verever he's a-goin' to be tried, my boy, a alleybi's the thingto get him off. Ve got Tom Vildspark off that 'ere manslaughter, witha alleybi, ven all the big vigs to a man said as nothing couldn't savehim. And my 'pinion is, Sammy, that if your governor don't prove aalleybi, he'll be what the Italians call reg'larly flummoxed, and that'sall about it.'

As the elder Mr. Weller entertained a firm and unalterable convictionthat the Old Bailey was the supreme court of judicature in this country,and that its rules and forms of proceeding regulated and controlledthe practice of all other courts of justice whatsoever, he totallydisregarded the assurances and arguments of his son, tending to showthat the alibi was inadmissible; and vehemently protested that Mr.Pickwick was being 'wictimised.' Finding that it was of no use todiscuss the matter further, Sam changed the subject, and inquired whatthe second topic was, on which his revered parent wished to consult him.

'That's a pint o' domestic policy, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 'This hereStiggins--'

'Red-nosed man?' inquired Sam.

'The wery same,' replied Mr. Weller. 'This here red-nosed man, Sammy,wisits your mother-in-law vith a kindness and constancy I never seeequalled. He's sitch a friend o' the family, Sammy, that wen he's avayfrom us, he can't be comfortable unless he has somethin' to remember usby.'

'And I'd give him somethin' as 'ud turpentine and beeswax his memory forthe next ten years or so, if I wos you,' interposed Sam.

'Stop a minute,' said Mr. Weller; 'I wos a-going to say, he alwaysbrings now, a flat bottle as holds about a pint and a half, and fills itvith the pine-apple rum afore he goes avay.'

'And empties it afore he comes back, I s'pose?' said Sam.

'Clean!' replied Mr. Weller; 'never leaves nothin' in it but the corkand the smell; trust him for that, Sammy. Now, these here fellows, myboy, are a-goin' to-night to get up the monthly meetin' o' theBrick Lane Branch o' the United Grand Junction Ebenezer TemperanceAssociation. Your mother-in-law wos a-goin', Sammy, but she's got therheumatics, and can't; and I, Sammy--I've got the two tickets as wossent her.' Mr. Weller communicated this secret with great glee, andwinked so indefatigably after doing so, that Sam began to think he musthave got the TIC DOLOUREUX in his right eyelid.

'Well?' said that young gentleman. 'Well,' continued his progenitor,looking round him very cautiously, 'you and I'll go, punctiwal to thetime. The deputy-shepherd won't, Sammy; the deputy-shepherd won't.'Here Mr. Weller was seized with a paroxysm of chuckles, which graduallyterminated in as near an approach to a choke as an elderly gentlemancan, with safety, sustain.

'Well, I never see sitch an old ghost in all my born days,' exclaimedSam, rubbing the old gentleman's back, hard enough to set him on firewith the friction. 'What are you a-laughin' at, corpilence?'

'Hush! Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, looking round him with increasedcaution, and speaking in a whisper. 'Two friends o' mine, as worksthe Oxford Road, and is up to all kinds o' games, has got thedeputy-shepherd safe in tow, Sammy; and ven he does come to the EbenezerJunction (vich he's sure to do: for they'll see him to the door, andshove him in, if necessary), he'll be as far gone in rum-and-water, asever he wos at the Markis o' Granby, Dorkin', and that's not sayin'a little neither.' And with this, Mr. Weller once more laughedimmoderately, and once more relapsed into a state of partialsuffocation, in consequence.

Nothing could have been more in accordance with Sam Weller's feelingsthan the projected exposure of the real propensities and qualities ofthe red-nosed man; and it being very near the appointed hour of meeting,the father and son took their way at once to Brick Lane, Sam notforgetting to drop his letter into a general post-office as they walkedalong.

The monthly meetings of the Brick Lane Branch of the United GrandJunction Ebenezer Temperance Association were held in a large room,pleasantly and airily situated at the top of a safe and commodiousladder. The president was the straight-walking Mr. Anthony Humm, aconverted fireman, now a schoolmaster, and occasionally an itinerantpreacher; and the secretary was Mr. Jonas Mudge, chandler's shopkeeper,an enthusiastic and disinterested vessel, who sold tea to the members.Previous to the commencement of business, the ladies sat upon forms, anddrank tea, till such time as they considered it expedient to leave off;and a large wooden money-box was conspicuously placed upon the greenbaize cloth of the business-table, behind which the secretary stood, andacknowledged, with a gracious smile, every addition to the rich vein ofcopper which lay concealed within.

On this particular occasion the women drank tea to a most alarmingextent; greatly to the horror of Mr. Weller, senior, who, utterlyregardless of all Sam's admonitory nudgings, stared about him in everydirection with the most undisguised astonishment.

'Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, 'if some o' these here people don't wanttappin' to-morrow mornin', I ain't your father, and that's wot it is.Why, this here old lady next me is a-drowndin' herself in tea.' 'Bequiet, can't you?' murmured Sam.

'Sam,' whispered Mr. Weller, a moment afterwards, in a tone of deepagitation, 'mark my vords, my boy. If that 'ere secretary fellow keepson for only five minutes more, he'll blow hisself up with toast andwater.'

'Well, let him, if he likes,' replied Sam; 'it ain't no bis'ness o'yourn.'

'If this here lasts much longer, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, in the samelow voice, 'I shall feel it my duty, as a human bein', to rise andaddress the cheer. There's a young 'ooman on the next form but two, ashas drunk nine breakfast cups and a half; and she's a-swellin' wisiblybefore my wery eyes.'

There is little doubt that Mr. Weller would have carried his benevolentintention into immediate execution, if a great noise, occasioned byputting up the cups and saucers, had not very fortunately announced thatthe tea-drinking was over. The crockery having been removed, the tablewith the green baize cover was carried out into the centre of the room,and the business of the evening was commenced by a little emphatic man,with a bald head and drab shorts, who suddenly rushed up the ladder, atthe imminent peril of snapping the two little legs incased in the drabshorts, and said--

'Ladies and gentlemen, I move our excellent brother, Mr. Anthony Humm,into the chair.'

The ladies waved a choice selection of pocket-handkerchiefs at thisproposition; and the impetuous little man literally moved Mr. Humminto the chair, by taking him by the shoulders and thrusting him into amahogany-frame which had once represented that article of furniture.The waving of handkerchiefs was renewed; and Mr. Humm, who was a sleek,white-faced man, in a perpetual perspiration, bowed meekly, to the greatadmiration of the females, and formally took his seat. Silence was thenproclaimed by the little man in the drab shorts, and Mr. Humm rose andsaid--That, with the permission of his Brick Lane Branch brothers andsisters, then and there present, the secretary would read the report ofthe Brick Lane Branch committee; a proposition which was again receivedwith a demonstration of pocket-handkerchiefs.

The secretary having sneezed in a very impressive manner, and the coughwhich always seizes an assembly, when anything particular is going to bedone, having been duly performed, the following document was read:

'REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE BRICK LANE BRANCH OF THE UNITED GRANDJUNCTION EBENEZER TEMPERANCE ASSOCIATION

'Your committee have pursued their grateful labours during the pastmonth, and have the unspeakable pleasure of reporting the followingadditional cases of converts to Temperance.

'H. Walker, tailor, wife, and two children. When in bettercircumstances, owns to having been in the constant habit of drinking aleand beer; says he is not certain whether he did not twice a week,for twenty years, taste "dog's nose," which your committee find uponinquiry, to be compounded of warm porter, moist sugar, gin, and nutmeg(a groan, and 'So it is!' from an elderly female). Is now out of workand penniless; thinks it must be the porter (cheers) or the loss of theuse of his right hand; is not certain which, but thinks it very likelythat, if he had drunk nothing but water all his life, his fellow-workmanwould never have stuck a rusty needle in him, and thereby occasioned hisaccident (tremendous cheering). Has nothing but cold water to drink, andnever feels thirsty (great applause).

'Betsy Martin, widow, one child, and one eye. Goes out charing andwashing, by the day; never had more than one eye, but knows her motherdrank bottled stout, and shouldn't wonder if that caused it (immensecheering). Thinks it not impossible that if she had always abstainedfrom spirits she might have had two eyes by this time (tremendousapplause). Used, at every place she went to, to have eighteen-pence aday, a pint of porter, and a glass of spirits; but since she became amember of the Brick Lane Branch, has always demanded three-and-sixpence(the announcement of this most interesting fact was received withdeafening enthusiasm).

'Henry Beller was for many years toast-master at various corporationdinners, during which time he drank a great deal of foreign wine; maysometimes have carried a bottle or two home with him; is not quitecertain of that, but is sure if he did, that he drank the contents.Feels very low and melancholy, is very feverish, and has a constantthirst upon him; thinks it must be the wine he used to drink (cheers).Is out of employ now; and never touches a drop of foreign wine by anychance (tremendous plaudits).

'Thomas Burton is purveyor of cat's meat to the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs,and several members of the Common Council (the announcement of thisgentleman's name was received with breathless interest). Has a woodenleg; finds a wooden leg expensive, going over the stones; used towear second-hand wooden legs, and drink a glass of hot gin-and-waterregularly every night--sometimes two (deep sighs). Found the second-handwooden legs split and rot very quickly; is firmly persuaded that theirconstitution was undermined by the gin-and-water (prolonged cheering).Buys new wooden legs now, and drinks nothing but water and weak tea. Thenew legs last twice as long as the others used to do, and he attributesthis solely to his temperate habits (triumphant cheers).'

Anthony Humm now moved that the assembly do regale itself with a song.With a view to their rational and moral enjoyment, Brother Mordlinhad adapted the beautiful words of 'Who hasn't heard of a Jolly YoungWaterman?' to the tune of the Old Hundredth, which he would request themto join him in singing (great applause). He might take that opportunityof expressing his firm persuasion that the late Mr. Dibdin, seeing theerrors of his former life, had written that song to show the advantagesof abstinence. It was a temperance song (whirlwinds of cheers). Theneatness of the young man's attire, the dexterity of his feathering, theenviable state of mind which enabled him in the beautiful words of thepoet, to

'Row along, thinking of nothing at all,'

all combined to prove that he must have been a water-drinker (cheers).Oh, what a state of virtuous jollity! (rapturous cheering). And what wasthe young man's reward? Let all young men present mark this:

'The maidens all flocked to his boat so readily.'

(Loud cheers, in which the ladies joined.) What a bright example! Thesisterhood, the maidens, flocking round the young waterman, and urginghim along the stream of duty and of temperance. But, was it the maidensof humble life only, who soothed, consoled, and supported him? No!

'He was always first oars with the fine city ladies.'

(Immense cheering.) The soft sex to a man--he begged pardon, to afemale--rallied round the young waterman, and turned with disgust fromthe drinker of spirits (cheers). The Brick Lane Branch brothers werewatermen (cheers and laughter). That room was their boat; that audiencewere the maidens; and he (Mr. Anthony Humm), however unworthily, was'first oars' (unbounded applause).

'Wot does he mean by the soft sex, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller, in awhisper.

'The womin,' said Sam, in the same tone.

'He ain't far out there, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller; 'they MUST be asoft sex--a wery soft sex, indeed--if they let themselves be gammoned bysuch fellers as him.'

Any further observations from the indignant old gentleman were cut shortby the announcement of the song, which Mr. Anthony Humm gave out twolines at a time, for the information of such of his hearers as wereunacquainted with the legend. While it was being sung, the littleman with the drab shorts disappeared; he returned immediately on itsconclusion, and whispered Mr. Anthony Humm, with a face of the deepestimportance. 'My friends,' said Mr. Humm, holding up his hand in adeprecatory manner, to bespeak the silence of such of the stout oldladies as were yet a line or two behind; 'my friends, a delegate fromthe Dorking Branch of our society, Brother Stiggins, attends below.'

Out came the pocket-handkerchiefs again, in greater force than ever; forMr. Stiggins was excessively popular among the female constituency ofBrick Lane.

'He may approach, I think,' said Mr. Humm, looking round him, with a fatsmile. 'Brother Tadger, let him come forth and greet us.'

The little man in the drab shorts who answered to the name of BrotherTadger, bustled down the ladder with great speed, and was immediatelyafterwards heard tumbling up with the Reverend Mr. Stiggins.

'He's a-comin', Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, purple in the countenancewith suppressed laughter.

'Don't say nothin' to me,' replied Sam, 'for I can't bear it. He's closeto the door. I hear him a-knockin' his head again the lath and plasternow.'

As Sam Weller spoke, the little door flew open, and Brother Tadgerappeared, closely followed by the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, who no soonerentered, than there was a great clapping of hands, and stamping of feet,and flourishing of handkerchiefs; to all of which manifestations ofdelight, Brother Stiggins returned no other acknowledgment than staringwith a wild eye, and a fixed smile, at the extreme top of the wick ofthe candle on the table, swaying his body to and fro, meanwhile, in avery unsteady and uncertain manner.

'Are you unwell, Brother Stiggins?' whispered Mr. Anthony Humm.

'I am all right, Sir,' replied Mr. Stiggins, in a tone in which ferocitywas blended with an extreme thickness of utterance; 'I am all right,Sir.'

'Oh, very well,' rejoined Mr. Anthony Humm, retreating a few paces.

'I believe no man here has ventured to say that I am not all right,Sir?' said Mr. Stiggins.

'Oh, certainly not,' said Mr. Humm. 'I should advise him not to, Sir; Ishould advise him not,' said Mr. Stiggins.

By this time the audience were perfectly silent, and waited with someanxiety for the resumption of business.

'Will you address the meeting, brother?' said Mr. Humm, with a smile ofinvitation.

'No, sir,' rejoined Mr. Stiggins; 'No, sir. I will not, sir.'

The meeting looked at each other with raised eyelids; and a murmur ofastonishment ran through the room.

'It's my opinion, sir,' said Mr. Stiggins, unbuttoning his coat, andspeaking very loudly--'it's my opinion, sir, that this meeting is drunk,sir. Brother Tadger, sir!' said Mr. Stiggins, suddenly increasing inferocity, and turning sharp round on the little man in the drabshorts, 'YOU are drunk, sir!' With this, Mr. Stiggins, entertaininga praiseworthy desire to promote the sobriety of the meeting, and toexclude therefrom all improper characters, hit Brother Tadger onthe summit of the nose with such unerring aim, that the drab shortsdisappeared like a flash of lightning. Brother Tadger had been knocked,head first, down the ladder.

Upon this, the women set up a loud and dismal screaming; and rushing insmall parties before their favourite brothers, flung their arms aroundthem to preserve them from danger. An instance of affection, which hadnearly proved fatal to Humm, who, being extremely popular, was all butsuffocated, by the crowd of female devotees that hung about his neck,and heaped caresses upon him. The greater part of the lights werequickly put out, and nothing but noise and confusion resounded on allsides.

'Now, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, taking off his greatcoat with muchdeliberation, 'just you step out, and fetch in a watchman.'

'And wot are you a-goin' to do, the while?' inquired Sam.

'Never you mind me, Sammy,' replied the old gentleman; 'I shall ockipymyself in havin' a small settlement with that 'ere Stiggins.' Before Samcould interfere to prevent it, his heroic parent had penetrated into aremote corner of the room, and attacked the Reverend Mr. Stiggins withmanual dexterity.

'Come off!' said Sam.

'Come on!' cried Mr. Weller; and without further invitation he gave theReverend Mr. Stiggins a preliminary tap on the head, and began dancinground him in a buoyant and cork-like manner, which in a gentleman at histime of life was a perfect marvel to behold.

Finding all remonstrances unavailing, Sam pulled his hat firmly on,threw his father's coat over his arm, and taking the old man round thewaist, forcibly dragged him down the ladder, and into the street; neverreleasing his hold, or permitting him to stop, until they reached thecorner. As they gained it, they could hear the shouts of the populace,who were witnessing the removal of the Reverend Mr. Stiggins to stronglodgings for the night, and could hear the noise occasioned by thedispersion in various directions of the members of the Brick Lane Branchof the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association.