him, Mr. Wicks; it’s a Christian act to do it, Mr. Wicks, for with his large family and small income he’ll be all the better for a good lesson against getting into debt—won’t he, Mr. Wicks, won’t he?’ and he smiled so good-naturedly as he went away that it was delightful to see him.  ‘He is a capital man of business,’ said Wicks, in a tone of the deepest admiration; ‘capital, isn’t he?’”

Mr. Fogg, we are told, was an elderly, pimply-faced, vegetable diet

sort of man, in a black coat, and dark-mixtured trousers; and Mr. Dodson was a plump, portly, stern-looking man, with a loud voice.  And it was from these worthies that Mr. Pickwick had received a letter dated the 28th of August, 1827.

Freeman’s Court, Cornhill.
Bardell against Pickwick.

Sir,—Having been instructed by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence an action against you for a breach of promise of marriage, for which the plaintiff lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to inform you that a writ has been issued against you in this suit in the Court of Common Pleas, and request to know, by return of post, the name of your attorney in London, who will accept service thereof.

We are, Sir,
Your obedient servants,
Dodson and Fogg.
Mr. Samuel Pickwick.

I am bound to say that Mr. Pickwick did not conduct himself with his usual dignity on the occasion of his interview on the subject of this letter.  The two sharp practitioners had certainly commenced an action against him on grounds which, though definite, were wholly inadequate.  But in this alone there was nothing to justify the very violent language of Mr. Pickwick.

“Very well, gentlemen, very well,” said Mr. Pickwick, rising in person and wrath at the same time; “you shall hear from my solicitor, gentlemen.”

“We shall be very happy to do so,” said Fogg, rubbing his hands.

“Very,” said Dodson, opening the door.

“And before I go, gentlemen,” said the excited Mr. Pickwick, turning round on the landing, “permit me to say,

that of all the disgraceful and rascally proceedings—”

“Stay, sir, stay,” interposed Dodson, with great politeness.  “Mr. Jackson!  Mr. Wicks!”

“Sir,” said the two clerks, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

“I merely want you to hear what this gentleman says,” replied Dodson.  “Pray go on, sir—disgraceful and rascally proceedings, I think you said?”

“I did,” said Mr. Pickwick, thoroughly roused.  “I said, sir, that of all the disgraceful and rascally proceedings that ever were attempted this is the most so.  I repeat it, sir.”

“You hear that, Mr. Wicks?” said Dodson.

“You won’t forget these expressions, Mr. Jackson?” said Fogg.

“Perhaps you would like to call us swindlers, sir,” said Dodson.  “Pray do, sir, if you feel disposed; now pray do, sir.”

“I do,” said Mr. Pickwick.  “You are swindlers.”

“Very good,” said Dodson.  “You can hear down there, I hope, Mr. Wicks?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said Wicks.

“You had better come up a step or two higher if you can’t,” added Mr. Fogg.  “Go on, sir; do go on.  You had better call us thieves, sir; or perhaps you would like to assault one of us.  Pray do it, sir, if you would; we will not make the slightest resistance.  Pray do it, sir.”

As Fogg put himself very temptingly within the reach of Mr. Pickwick’s clenched fist there is little doubt that gentleman would have complied with his earnest entreaty but for the interposition of Sam, who, hearing the dispute, emerged from the office, mounted the stairs, and seized his master by the arm.

“You just come avay,” said Mr. Weller.  “Battledore and shuttlecock’s a wery good game, when you ain’t the

shuttlecock and two lawyers the battledores, in which case it gets too excitin’ to be pleasant.  Come avay, sir.  If you want to ease your mind by blowing up somebody come out into the court and blow up me; but it’s rayther too expensive work to be carried on here.”

With that good advice Mr. Weller took Mr. Pickwick away from the lawyers’ office.  But before we say anything about the trial itself let me introduce to you another solicitor not so well known as either Perker or Dodson and Fogg, but to my mind the most interesting as he certainly is the most humorous.

Mr. Pell had the honour of being the legal adviser of Mr. Weller, Senior.  The latter gentleman always stoutly maintained that if Mr. Pickwick had had the services of Mr. Pell, and had established an alibi,

the great case of Bardell against Pickwick would have been decided otherwise.  Mr. Pell practised in the Insolvency Court.  He “was a fat, flabby, pale man, in a surtout which looked green one moment, and brown the next, with a velvet collar of the same chameleon tints.  His forehead was narrow, his face wide, his head large, and his nose all on one side, as if Nature, indignant with the propensities she observed in him at his birth, had given it an angry tweak which it had never recovered.  Being short-necked and asthmatic, however, he respired principally through this feature; so, perhaps, what it wanted in ornament, it made up in usefulness.”

Mr. Pell had successfully piloted Mr. Weller through the Insolvency Court, and his services were sought

to carry out the process by which Sam Weller became a voluntary prisoner in the Fleet at the suit of his obdurate parent.

“The late Lord Chancellor, gentlemen, was very fond of me,” said Mr. Pell.

“And wery creditable in him, too,” interposed Mr. Weller.

“Hear, hear,” assented Mr. Pell’s client.  “Why shouldn’t he be?”

“Ah, why, indeed!” said a very red-faced man, who had said nothing yet, and who looked extremely unlikely to say anything more.  “Why shouldn’t he?”

A murmur of assent ran through the company.

“I remember, gentlemen,” said Mr. Pell, “dining with him on one occasion.  There was only us two, but everything as splendid as if twenty people had been expected—the great seal on a dumb-waiter at his right, and a man in a bag-wig and

suit of armour guarding the mace with a drawn sword and silk stockings—which is perpetually done, gentlemen, night and day; when he said, ‘Pell,’ he said, ‘no false delicacy, Pell.  You’re a man of talent; you can get anybody through the Insolvent Court, Pell; and your country should be proud of you.’  Those were his very words.  ‘My lord,’ I said, ‘you flatter me.’  ‘Pell,’ he said, ‘if I do I’m damned.’”

“Did he say that?” inquired Mr. Weller.

“He did,” replied Pell.

“Vell, then,” said Mr. Weller, “I say Parliament ought to ha’ took it up; and if he’d been a poor man they would ha’ done it.”

“But, my dear friend,” argued Mr. Pell, “it was in confidence.”

“In what?” said Mr. Weller.

“In