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leave this place, Sam," added Mr. Pickwick, with assumed cheerfulness — " if I do, I pledge you my word that you shall return to me instantly."
" Now 111 tell you wot it is, Sir," said Mr. Weller, in a grave and solemn voice, " This here sort o' thing von't do at all, so don't let's hear no more about it."
" I am serious, and resolved, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick.
" You air, air you, Sir? " inquired Mr. Weller, firmly. " Wery good, Sir ; then so am I."
Thus speaking, Mr. Weller fixed his hat on his head with great pre- cision, and abruptly left the room.
" Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, calling after him, " Sam. Here."
But the long gallery ceased to re-echo the sound of footsteps. Sam Weller was gone.
CHAPTER XLH.
SHOWING HOW MR. SAMUEL WELLER GOT INTO DIFFICULTIES.
In a lofty room, badly lighted and worse ventilated, situate in Portugal-street, Lincoln's Inn-fields, there sit nearly the whole year round, one, two, three, or four gentlemen in wigs, as the case may be, with little writing desks before them, constructed after the fashion of those used by the judges of the land, barring the French polish; a box of barristers on their right hand ; an inclosure of insolvent debtors on their left ; and an inclined plane of most especially dirty faces in their front. These gentlemen are the Commissioners of the Insolvent Court, and the place in which they sit is the Insolvent Court itself.
It is, and has been, time out of mind, the remarkable fate of this Court to be somehow or other held and understood by the general consent of all the destitute shabby-genteel people in London, as their common resort, and place of daily refuge. It is always full. The steams of beer and spirits perpetually ascend to the ceiling, and, being con- densed by the heat, roll down the walls like rain : there are more old suits of clothes in it at one time, than will be offered for sale in all Houndsditch in a twelvemonth ; and more unwashed skins and grizzly heards than all the pumps and shaving-shops between Tyburn and Whitechapel could render decent between sunrise and sunset.
It must not be supposed that any of these people have the least shadow of business in, or the remotest connexion with, the place they so indefatigably attend. If they had, it would be no matter of surprise, and the singularity of the thing would cease at once. Some of them sleep during the greater part of the sitting ; others carry small portable dinners wrapped in pocket handkerchiefs or sticking out of their worn- out pockets, and munch and listen with equal relish ; but no one among them was ever known to have the slightest personal interest in any
