when the sandy head of Mr. Pott was discerned in one of the windows by the mob beneath; and tremendous was the enthusiasm when the Honourable Samuel Slumkey himself, in top boots, and a blue neckerchief, advanced and seized the hand of the said Pott, and melodramatically testified by gestures to the crowd his ineffaceable obligations to the Eatanswill Gazette.

“Is everything ready?” said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey to Mr. Perker.

“Everything, my dear sir,” was the little man’s reply.

“Nothing has been omitted, I hope?” said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.

“Nothing has been left undone, my dear sir—nothing whatever.  There are

twenty washed men at the street door for you to shake hands with; and six children in arms that you’re to pat on the head, and inquire the age of; be particular about the children, my dear sir,—it has always a great effect, that sort of thing.”

“I’ll take care,” said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.

“And perhaps, my dear sir,” said the cautious little man, “perhaps if you could—I don’t mean to say it’s indispensable—but if you could manage to kiss one of ’em it would produce a very great impression on the crowd.”

“Wouldn’t it have as good an effect if the proposer or seconder did that?” said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.

“Why, I am afraid it wouldn’t,” replied the agent; “if it were done by yourself, my dear sir, I think it would make you very popular.”

“Very well,” said the Honourable

Samuel Slumkey, with a resigned air, “then it must be done.  That’s all.”

“Arrange the procession,” cried the twenty committee men.

Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the constables, and the committee men, and the voters, and the horsemen, and the carriages took their places—each of the two-horse vehicles being closely packed with as many gentlemen as could manage to stand upright in it; and that assigned to Mr. Perker containing Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and about half-a-dozen of the committee beside.

There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession waited for the Honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his carriage.  Suddenly the crowd set up a great cheering.

“He has come out,” said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited; the more so as their position did not enable them to see what was going forward.

Another cheer, much louder.

“He has shaken hands with the men,” cried the little agent.

Another cheer, far more vehement.

“He has patted the babies on the head,” said Mr. Perker, trembling with anxiety.

A roar of applause that rent the air.

“He has kissed one of ’em!” exclaimed the delighted little man.

A second roar.

“He has kissed another,” gasped the excited manager.

A third roar.

“He’s kissing ’em all!” screamed the enthusiastic little gentleman.  And hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude the procession moved on.

Ladies and gentlemen, according to our modern ideas this account does not do much to raise Mr. Perker in our estimation; but the best testimonial to his memory is to be found

in Mr. Pickwick’s observation when, being at last free from all his legal difficulties, he proposed to settle up with his lawyer.

“Well, now,” said Mr. Pickwick, “let me have a settlement with you.”

“Of the same kind as the last?” inquired Perker, with another laugh, for Mr. Pickwick had just been dismissing Messrs. Dodson and Fogg with some strong language indeed.

“Not exactly,” said Mr. Pickwick, drawing out his pocket-book, and shaking the little man heartily by the hand; “I only mean a pecuniary settlement.  You have done me many acts of kindness that I can never repay, and have no wish to repay, for I prefer continuing the obligation.”

With this preface the two friends dived into some very complicated accounts and vouchers, which, having been duly displayed

and gone through by Perker, were at once discharged by Mr. Pickwick with many professions of esteem and friendship.

Never was bill of costs so pleasantly discharged, though I know many lawyers who have won the friendship and esteem of their clients.

The next type is that of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, of Freeman’s Court, Cornhill.  The character of the genial partner is best described by one of his clerks in a conversation overheard by Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller while waiting for an interview with this celebrated firm.

“There was such a game with Fogg here this morning,” said the man in the brown coat, “while Jack was upstairs sorting the papers, and you two were gone to the stamp-office.  Fogg was down here

opening the letters when that chap as we issued the writ against at Camberwell, you know, came in—what’s his name again?”

“Ramsey,” said the clerk who had spoken to Mr. Pickwick.

“Ah, Ramsey—a precious seedy-looking customer.  ‘Well, sir,’ says old Fogg, looking at him very fierce—you know his way—‘well, sir, have you come to settle?’  ‘Yes, I have, sir,’ said Ramsey, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out the money; ‘the debt’s two pound ten, and the costs three pound five, and here it is, sir,’ and he sighed like bricks as he lugged out the money, done up in a bit of blotting-paper.  Old Fogg looked first at the money, and then at him, and then he coughed in his rum way, so that I knew something was coming.  ‘You don’t know there’s a declaration filed, which increases the costs materially, I suppose?’ said Fogg.  ‘You don’t say that, sir,’ said Ramsey, starting back; ‘the time was only out last night,

sir.’  ‘I do say it, though,’ said Fogg; ‘my clerk’s just gone to file it.  Hasn’t Mr. Jackson gone to file that declaration in Bullman and Ramsey, Mr. Wicks?’  Of course I said yes, and then Fogg coughed again, and looked at Ramsey.  ‘My God!’ said Ramsey; ‘and here have I nearly driven myself mad, scraping this money together, and all to no purpose.’  ‘None at all,’ said Fogg, coolly; ‘so you had better go back and scrape some more together, and bring it here in time.’  ‘I can’t get it, by God!’ said Ramsey, striking the desk with his fist.  ‘Don’t bully me, sir,’ said Fogg, getting into a passion on purpose.  ‘I am not bullying you, sir,’ said Ramsey.  ‘You are,’ said Fogg; ‘get out, sir; get out of this office, sir, and come back, sir, when you know how to behave yourself.’  Well, Ramsey tried to speak, but Fogg wouldn’t let him, so he put the money in his pocket and sneaked out.  The door was scarcely shut when

old Fogg turned round to me, with a sweet smile on his face, and drew the declaration out of his coat pocket.  ‘Here, Wicks,’ said Fogg, ‘take a cab and go down to the Temple as quick as you can and file that.  The costs are quite safe, for he’s a steady man with a large family, at a salary of five-and-twenty shillings a week; and if he gives us a warrant of attorney, as he must in the end, I know his employers will see it paid, so we may as well get all we can out of