Mr. Pickwick, feeling not a little disgusted with this dialogue,as well as with the air and manner of the two beings by whom ithad been carried on, was about to inquire whether he could notbe accommodated with a private sitting-room, when two or threestrangers of genteel appearance entered, at sight of whom theboy threw his cigar into the fire, and whispering to Mr. Pricethat they had come to 'make it all right' for him, joined them at atable in the farther end of the room.

It would appear, however, that matters were not going to bemade all right quite so speedily as the young gentleman anticipated;for a very long conversation ensued, of which Mr.Pickwick could not avoid hearing certain angry fragmentsregarding dissolute conduct, and repeated forgiveness. At last,there were very distinct allusions made by the oldest gentlemanof the party to one Whitecross Street, at which the young gentleman,notwithstanding his primeness and his spirit, and hisknowledge of life into the bargain, reclined his head upon thetable, and howled dismally.

Very much satisfied with this sudden bringing down of theyouth's valour, and this effectual lowering of his tone, Mr. Pickwickrang the bell, and was shown, at his own request, into aprivate room furnished with a carpet, table, chairs, sideboard andsofa, and ornamented with a looking-glass, and various oldprints. Here he had the advantage of hearing Mrs. Namby'sperformance on a square piano overhead, while the breakfast wasgetting ready; when it came, Mr. Perker came too.

'Aha, my dear sir,' said the little man, 'nailed at last, eh?Come, come, I'm not sorry for it either, because now you'll seethe absurdity of this conduct. I've noted down the amount of thetaxed costs and damages for which the ca-sa was issued, and wehad better settle at once and lose no time. Namby is come homeby this time, I dare say. What say you, my dear sir? Shall I drawa cheque, or will you?' The little man rubbed his hands withaffected cheerfulness as he said this, but glancing at Mr. Pickwick'scountenance, could not forbear at the same time casting adesponding look towards Sam Weller.

'Perker,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'let me hear no more of this, I beg.I see no advantage in staying here, so I Shall go to prison to-night.'

'You can't go to Whitecross Street, my dear Sir,' said Perker.'Impossible! There are sixty beds in a ward; and the bolt's on,sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty.'

'I would rather go to some other place of confinement if I can,'said Mr. Pickwick. 'If not, I must make the best I can of that.'

'You can go to the Fleet, my dear Sir, if you're determined togo somewhere,' said Perker.

'That'll do,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I'll go there directly I havefinished my breakfast.'

'Stop, stop, my dear Sir; not the least occasion for being in sucha violent hurry to get into a place that most other men are aseager to get out of,' said the good-natured little attorney. 'Wemust have a habeas-corpus. There'll be no judge at chambers tillfour o'clock this afternoon. You must wait till then.'

'Very good,' said Mr. Pickwick, with unmoved patience.'Then we will have a chop here, at two. See about it, Sam, andtell them to be punctual.'

Mr. Pickwick remaining firm, despite all the remonstrances andarguments of Perker, the chops appeared and disappeared in duecourse; he was then put into another hackney coach, and carriedoff to Chancery Lane, after waiting half an hour or so for Mr.Namby, who had a select dinner-party and could on no accountbe disturbed before.

There were two judges in attendance at Serjeant's Inn--oneKing's Bench, and one Common Pleas--and a great deal ofbusiness appeared to be transacting before them, if the numberof lawyer's clerks who were hurrying in and out with bundles ofpapers, afforded any test. When they reached the low archwaywhich forms the entrance to the inn, Perker was detained a fewmoments parlaying with the coachman about the fare and thechange; and Mr. Pickwick, stepping to one side to be out of theway of the stream of people that were pouring in and out, lookedabout him with some curiosity.

The people that attracted his attention most, were three or fourmen of shabby-genteel appearance, who touched their hats tomany of the attorneys who passed, and seemed to have somebusiness there, the nature of which Mr. Pickwick could notdivine. They were curious-looking fellows. One was a slim andrather lame man in rusty black, and a white neckerchief; anotherwas a stout, burly person, dressed in the same apparel, with agreat reddish-black cloth round his neck; a third was a littleweazen, drunken-looking body, with a pimply face. They wereloitering about, with their hands behind them, and now and thenwith an anxious countenance whispered something in the ear ofsome of the gentlemen with papers, as they hurried by. Mr.Pickwick remembered to have very often observed them loungingunder the archway when he had been walking past; and hiscuriosity was quite excited to know to what branch of the professionthese dingy-looking loungers could possibly belong.

He was about to propound the question to Namby, who keptclose beside him, sucking a large gold ring on his little finger,when Perker bustled up, and observing that there was no time tolose, led the way into the inn. As Mr. Pickwick followed, thelame man stepped up to him, and civilly touching his hat, heldout a written card, which Mr. Pickwick, not wishing to hurt theman's feelings by refusing, courteously accepted and deposited inhis waistcoat pocket.

'Now,' said Perker, turning round before he entered one of theoffices, to see that his companions were close behind him. 'Inhere, my dear sir. Hallo, what do you want?'

This last question was addressed to the lame man, who,unobserved by Mr. Pickwick, made one of the party. In reply to it,the lame man touched his hat again, with all imaginable politeness,and motioned towards Mr. Pickwick.

'No, no,' said Perker, with a smile. 'We don't want you, mydear friend, we don't want you.'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the lame man. 'The gentlemantook my card. I hope you will employ me, sir. The gentlemannodded to me. I'll be judged by the gentleman himself. Younodded to me, sir?'

'Pooh, pooh, nonsense. You didn't nod to anybody, Pickwick?A mistake, a mistake,' said Perker.

'The gentleman handed me his card,' replied Mr. Pickwick,producing it from his waistcoat pocket. 'I accepted it, as thegentleman seemed to wish it--in fact I had some curiosity to lookat it when I should be at leisure. I--'

The little attorney burst into a loud laugh, and returning thecard to the lame man, informing him it was all a mistake,whispered to Mr. Pickwick as the man turned away in dudgeon,that he was only a bail.

'A what!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

'A bail,' replied Perker.

'A bail!''Yes, my dear sir--half a dozen of 'em here. Bail you to anyamount, and only charge half a crown. Curious trade, isn't it?'said Perker, regaling himself with a pinch of snuff.

'What! Am I to understand that these men earn a livelihoodby waiting about here, to perjure themselves before the judges ofthe land, at the rate of half a crown a crime?' exclaimed Mr.Pickwick, quite aghast at the disclosure.

'Why, I don't exactly know about perjury, my dear sir,' repliedthe little gentleman. 'Harsh word, my dear sir, very harsh wordindeed. It's a legal fiction, my dear sir, nothing more.' Sayingwhich, the attorney shrugged his shoulders, smiled, took a secondpinch of snuff, and led the way into the office of the judge's clerk.

This was a room of specially dirty appearance, with a very lowceiling and old panelled walls; and so badly lighted, that althoughit was broad day outside, great tallow candles were burning onthe desks. At one end, was a door leading to the judge's privateapartment, round which were congregated a crowd of attorneysand managing clerks, who were called in, in the order in whichtheir respective appointments stood upon the file. Every time thisdoor was opened to let a party out, the next party made a violentrush to get in; and, as in addition to the numerous dialogueswhich passed between the gentlemen who were waiting to see thejudge, a variety of personal squabbles ensued between the greaterpart of those who had seen him, there was as much noise as couldwell be raised in an apartment of such confined dimensions.

Nor were the conversations of these gentlemen the only soundsthat broke upon the ear. Standing on a box behind a wooden barat another end of the room was a clerk in spectacles who was'taking the affidavits'; large batches of which were, from time totime, carried into the private room by another clerk for thejudge's signature. There were a large number of attorneys' clerksto be sworn, and it being a moral impossibility to swear them allat once, the struggles of these gentlemen to reach the clerk inspectacles, were like those of a crowd to get in at the pit door of atheatre when Gracious Majesty honours it with its presence.Another functionary, from time to time, exercised his lungs incalling over the names of those who had been sworn, for thepurpose of restoring to them their affidavits after they had beensigned by the judge, which gave rise to a few more scuffles; andall these things going on at the same time, occasioned as muchbustle as the most active and excitable person could desire tobehold. There were yet another class of persons--those who werewaiting to attend summonses their employers had taken out,which it was optional to the attorney on the opposite side toattend or not--and whose business it was, from time to time, tocry out the opposite attorney's name; to make certain that hewas not in attendance without their knowledge.

For example. Leaning against the wall, close beside the seatMr. Pickwick had taken, was an office-lad of fourteen, with atenor voice; near him a common-law clerk with a bass one.

A clerk hurried in with a bundle of papers, and stared about him.

'Sniggle and Blink,' cried the tenor.

'Porkin and Snob,' growled the bass.'Stumpy and Deacon,' said the new-comer.

Nobody answered; the next man who came in, was bailed bythe whole three; and he in his turn shouted for another firm;and then somebody else roared in a loud voice for another; andso forth.

All this time, the man in the spectacles was hard at work,swearing the clerks; the oath being invariably administered,without any effort at punctuation, and usually in the followingterms:--

'Take the book in your right hand this is your name and hand-writing you swear that the contents of this your affidavit are trueso help you God a shilling you must get change I haven't got it.'

'Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'I suppose they are getting theHABEAS-CORPUS ready?'

'Yes,' said Sam, 'and I vish they'd bring out the have-his-carcase. It's wery unpleasant keepin' us vaitin' here. I'd ha' gothalf a dozen have-his-carcases ready, pack'd up and all, by this time.'

What sort of cumbrous and unmanageable machine, SamWeller imagined a habeas-corpus to be, does not appear;for Perker, at that moment, walked up and took Mr. Pickwick away.

The usual forms having been gone through, the body ofSamuel Pickwick was soon afterwards confided to the custody ofthe tipstaff, to be by him taken to the warden of the Fleet Prison,and there detained until the amount of the damages and costs inthe action of Bardell against Pickwick was fully paidand satisfied.

'And that,' said Mr. Pickwick, laughing, 'will be a very longtime. Sam, call another hackney-coach. Perker, my dear friend,good-bye.'

'I shall go with you, and see you safe there,' said Perker.

'Indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'I would rather go without anyother attendant than Sam. As soon as I get settled, I will writeand let you know, and I shall expect you immediately. Until then,good-bye.'

As Mr. Pickwick said this, he got into the coach which had bythis time arrived, followed by the tipstaff. Sam having stationedhimself on the box, it rolled away.

'A most extraordinary man that!' said Perker, as he stopped topull on his gloves.

'What a bankrupt he'd make, Sir,' observed Mr. Lowten, whowas standing near. 'How he would bother the commissioners!He'd set 'em at defiance if they talked of committing him, Sir.'

The attorney did not appear very much delighted with hisclerk's professional estimate of Mr. Pickwick's character, for hewalked away without deigning any reply.

The hackney-coach jolted along Fleet Street, as hackney-coaches usually do. The horses 'went better', the driver said,when they had anything before them (they must have gone ata most extraordinary pace when there was nothing), and sothe vehicle kept behind a cart; when the cart stopped, it stopped;and when the cart went on again, it did the same. Mr. Pickwicksat opposite the tipstaff; and the tipstaff sat with his hat betweenhis knees, whistling a tune, and looking out of the coach window.

Time performs wonders. By the powerful old gentleman's aid,even a hackney-coach gets over half a mile of ground. Theystopped at length, and Mr. Pickwick alighted at the gate of the Fleet.

The tipstaff, just looking over his shoulder to see that hischarge was following close at his heels, preceded Mr. Pickwickinto the prison; turning to the left, after they had entered, theypassed through an open door into a lobby, from which a heavygate, opposite to that by which they had entered, and which wasguarded by a stout turnkey with the key in his hand, led at onceinto the interior of the prison.

Here they stopped, while the tipstaff delivered his papers; andhere Mr. Pickwick was apprised that he would remain, until hehad undergone the ceremony, known to the initiated as 'sittingfor your portrait.'

'Sitting for my portrait?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Having your likeness taken, sir,' replied the stout turnkey.'We're capital hands at likenesses here. Take 'em in no time, andalways exact. Walk in, sir, and make yourself at home.'

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
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