IS WHOLLY DEVOTED TO A FULL ANDFAITHFUL REPORT OF THE MEMORABLETRIAL OF BARDELL AGAINST PICKWICKwonder what the foreman of the jury, whoever he’ll be, hasgot for breakfast,’ said Mr. Snodgrass, by way of keepingup a conversation on the eventful morning of thefourteenth of February.

　　‘Ah!’ said Perker, ‘I hope he’s got a good one.’

　　‘Why so?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Highly important―very important, my dear sir,’ repliedPerker. ‘A good, contented, well-breakfasted juryman is a capitalthing to get hold of. Discontented or hungry jurymen, my dear sir,always find for the plaintiff.’

　　‘Bless my heart,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking very blank, ‘whatdo they do that for?’

　　‘Why, I don’t know,’ replied the little man coolly; ‘saves time, Isuppose. If it’s near dinner-time, the foreman takes out his watchwhen the jury has retired, and says, “Dear me, gentlemen, tenminutes to five, I declare! I dine at five, gentlemen.” “So do I,”

　　says everybody else, except two men who ought to have dined atthree and seem more than half disposed to stand out inconsequence. The foreman smiles, and puts up his watch:―“Well,gentlemen, what do we say, plaintiff or defendant, gentlemen? Irather think, so far as I am concerned, gentlemen,―I say, I ratherthink―but don’t let that influence you―I rather think theplaintiff’s the man.” Upon this, two or three other men are sure tosay that they think so too―as of course they do; and then they geton very unanimously and comfortably. Ten minutes past nine!’

　　said the little man, looking at his watch. ‘Time we were off, mydear sir; breach of promise trial-court is generally full in suchcases. You had better ring for a coach, my dear sir, or we shall berather late.’

　　Mr. Pickwick immediately rang the bell, and a coach havingbeen procured, the four Pickwickians and Mr. Perker ensconcedthemselves therein, and drove to Guildhall; Sam Weller, Mr.

　　Lowten, and the blue bag, following in a cab.

　　‘Lowten,’ said Perker, when they reached the outer hall of thecourt, ‘put Mr. Pickwick’s friends in the students’ box; Mr.

　　Pickwick himself had better sit by me. This way, my dear sir, thisway.’ Taking Mr. Pickwick by the coat sleeve, the little man ledhim to the low seat just beneath the desks of the King’s Counsel,which is constructed for the convenience of attorneys, who fromthat spot can whisper into the ear of the leading counsel in thecase, any instructions that may be necessary during the progressof the trial. The occupants of this seat are invisible to the greatbody of spectators, inasmuch as they sit on a much lower levelthan either the barristers or the audience, whose seats are raisedabove the floor. Of course they have their backs to both, and theirfaces towards the judge.

　　‘That’s the witness-box, I suppose?’ said Mr. Pickwick, pointingto a kind of pulpit, with a brass rail, on his left hand.

　　‘That’s the witness-box, my dear sir,’ replied Perker,disinterring a quantity of papers from the blue bag, which Lowtenhad just deposited at his feet.

　　‘And that,’ said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a couple of enclosedseats on his right, ‘that’s where the jurymen sit, is it not?’

　　‘The identical place, my dear sir,’ replied Perker, tapping the lidof his snuff-box.

　　Mr. Pickwick stood up in a state of great agitation, and took aglance at the court. There were already a pretty large sprinkling ofspectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen inwigs, in the barristers’ seats, who presented, as a body, all thatpleasing and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which theBar of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen ashad a brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner aspossible, and occasionally scratched their noses therewith, toimpress the fact more strongly on the observation of thespectators. Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carriedunder their arms goodly octavos, with a red label behind, and thatunder-done-pie-crust-coloured cover, which is technically knownas ‘law calf.’ Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust theirhands into their pockets, and looked as wise as they convenientlycould; others, again, moved here and there with great restlessnessand earnestness of manner, content to awaken thereby theadmiration and astonishment of the uninitiated strangers. Thewhole, to the great wonderment of Mr, Pickwick, were divided intolittle groups, who were chatting and discussing the news of theday in the most unfeeling manner possible―just as if no trial at allwere coming on.

　　A bow from Mr. Phunky, as he entered, and took his seatbehind the row appropriated to the King’s Counsel, attracted Mr.

　　Pickwick’s attention; and he had scarcely returned it, when Mr.

　　Serjeant Snubbin appeared, followed by Mr. Mallard, who half hidthe Serjeant behind a large crimson bag, which he placed on histable, and, after shaking hands with Perker, withdrew. Then thereentered two or three more Serjeants; and among them, one with afat body and a red face, who nodded in a friendly manner to Mr.

　　Serjeant Snubbin, and said it was a fine morning.

　　‘Who’s that red-faced man, who said it was a fine morning, andnodded to our counsel?’ whispered Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz,’ replied Perker. ‘He’s opposed to us; heleads on the other side. That gentleman behind him is Mr.

　　Skimpin, his junior.’

　　Mr. Pickwick was on the point of inquiring, with greatabhorrence of the man’s cold-blooded villainy, how Mr, SerjeantBuzfuz, who was counsel for the opposite party, dared to presumeto tell Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, who was counsel for him, that it wasa fine morning, when he was interrupted by a general rising of thebarristers, and a loud cry of ‘Silence!’ from the officers of thecourt. Looking round, he found that this was caused by theentrance of the judge.

　　Mr. Justice Stareleigh (who sat in the absence of the ChiefJustice, occasioned by indisposition) was a most particularly shortman, and so fat, that he seemed all face and waistcoat. He rolledin, upon two little turned legs, and having bobbed gravely to theBar, who bobbed gravely to him, put his little legs underneath histable, and his little three-cornered hat upon it; and when Mr.

　　Justice Stareleigh had done this, all you could see of him was twoqueer little eyes, one broad pink face, and somewhere about halfof a big and very comical-looking wig.

　　The judge had no sooner taken his seat, than the officer on thefloor of the court called out ‘Silence!’ in a commanding tone, uponwhich another officer in the gallery cried ‘Silence!’ in an angrymanner, whereupon three or four more ushers shouted ‘Silence!’

　　in a voice of indignant remonstrance. This being done, agentleman in black, who sat below the judge, proceeded to callover the names of the jury; and after a great deal of bawling, it wasdiscovered that only ten special jurymen were present. Upon this,Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz prayed a tales; the gentleman in black thenproceeded to press into the special jury, two of the commonjurymen; and a greengrocer and a chemist were caught directly.

　　‘Answer to your names, gentlemen, that you may be sworn,’

　　said the gentleman in black. ‘Richard Upwitch.’

　　‘Here,’ said the greengrocer.

　　‘Thomas Groffin.’

　　‘Here,’ said the chemist.

　　‘Take the book, gentlemen. You shall well and truly try―’

　　‘I beg this court’s pardon,’ said the chemist, who was a tall, thin,yellow-visaged man, ‘but I hope this court will excuse myattendance.’

　　‘On what grounds, sir?’ said Mr. Justice Stareleigh.

　　‘I have no assistant, my Lord,’ said the chemist.

　　‘I can’t help that, sir,’ replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. ‘Youshould hire one.’

　　‘I can’t afford it, my Lord,’ rejoined the chemist.

　　‘Then you ought to be able to afford it, sir,’ said the judge,reddening; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh’s temper bordered on theirritable, and brooked not contradiction.

　　‘I know I ought to do, if I got on as well as I deserved; but Idon’t, my Lord,’ answered the chemist.

　　‘Swear the gentleman,’ said the judge peremptorily.

　　The officer had got no further than the ‘You shall well and trulytry,’ when he was again interrupted by the chemist.

　　‘I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I?’ said the chemist.

　　‘Certainly, sir,’ replied the testy little judge.

　　‘Very well, my Lord,’ replied the chemist, in a resigned manner.

　　‘Then there’ll be murder before this trial’s over; that’s all. Swearme, if you please, sir;’ and sworn the chemist was, before the judgecould find words to utter.

　　‘I merely wanted to observe, my Lord,’ said the chemist, takinghis seat with great deliberation, ‘that I’ve left nobody but anerrand-boy in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my Lord, but he isnot acquainted with drugs; and I know that the prevailingimpression on his mind is, that Epsom salts means oxalic acid; andsyrup of senna, laudanum. That’s all, my Lord.’ With this, the tallchemist composed himself into a comfortable attitude, and,assuming a pleasant expression of countenance, appeared to haveprepared himself for the worst.

　　Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of thedeepest horror, when a slight sensation was perceptible in thebody of the court; and immediately afterwards Mrs. Bardell,supported by Mrs. Cluppins, was led in, and placed, in a droopingstate, at the other end of the seat on which Mr. Pickwick sat. Anextra-sized umbrella was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and apair of pattens by Mr. Fogg, each of whom had prepared a mostsympathising and melancholy face for the occasion. Mrs. Sandersthen appeared, leading in Master Bardell. At sight of her child,Mrs. Bardell started; suddenly recollecting herself, she kissed himin a frantic manner; then relapsing into a state of hystericalimbecility, the good lady requested to be informed where she was.

　　In reply to this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned theirheads away and wept, while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg entreatedthe plaintiff to compose herself. Serjeant Buzfuz rubbed his eyesvery hard with a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealinglook towards the jury, while the judge was visibly affected, andseveral of the beholders tried to cough down their emotion.

　　‘Very good notion that indeed,’ whispered Perker to Mr.

　　Pickwick. ‘Capital fellows those Dodson and Fogg; excellent ideasof effect, my dear sir, excellent.’

　　As Perker spoke, Mrs. Bardell began to recover by slowdegrees, while Mrs. Cluppins, after a careful survey of MasterBardell’s buttons and the button-holes to which they severallybelonged, placed him on the floor of the court in front of hismother―a commanding position in which he could not fail toawaken the full commiseration and sympathy of both judge andjury. This was not done without considerable opposition, andmany tears, on the part of the young gentleman himself, who hadcertain inward misgivings that the placing him within the fullglare of the judge’s eye was only a formal prelude to his beingimmediately ordered away for instant execution, or fortransportation beyond the seas, during the whole term of hisnatural life, at the very least.

　　‘Bardell and Pickwick,’ cried the gentleman in black, calling onthe case, which stood first on the list.

　　‘I am for the plaintiff, my Lord,’ said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz.

　　‘Who is with you, Brother Buzfuz?’ said the judge. Mr. Skimpinbowed, to intimate that he was.

　　‘I appear for the defendant, my Lord,’ said Mr. SerjeantSnubbin.

　　‘Anybody with you, Brother Snubbin?’ inquired the court.

　　‘Mr. Phunky, my Lord,’ replied Serjeant Snubbin.

　　‘Serjeant Buzfuz and Mr. Skimpin for the plaintiff,’ said thejudge, writing down the names in his note-book, and reading as hewrote; ‘for the defendant, Serjeant Snubbin and Mr. Monkey.’

　　‘Beg your Lordship’s pardon, Phunky.’

　　‘Oh, very good,’ said the judge; ‘I never had the pleasure ofhearing the gentleman’s name before.’ Here Mr. Phunky bowedand smiled, and the judge bowed and smiled too, and then Mr.

　　Phunky, blushing into the very whites of his eyes, tried to look as ifhe didn’t know that everybody was gazing at him, a thing which noman ever succeeded in doing yet, or in all reasonable probability,ever will.

　　‘Go on,’ said the judge.

　　The ushers again called silence, and Mr. Skimpin proceeded to‘open the case’; and the case appeared to have very little inside itwhen he had opened it, for he kept such particulars as he knew,completely to himself, and sat down, after a lapse of three minutes,leaving the jury in precisely the same advanced stage of wisdom asthey were in before.

　　Serjeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignitywhich the grave nature of the proceedings demanded, and havingwhispered to Dodson, and conferred briefly with Fogg, pulled hisgown over his shoulders, settled his wig, and addressed the jury.

　　Serjeant Buzfuz began by saying, that never, in the wholecourse of his professional experience―never, from the very firstmoment of his applying himself to the study and practice of thelaw―had he approached a case with feelings of such deepemotion, or with such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposedupon him―a responsibility, he would say, which he could neverhave supported, were he not buoyed up and sustained by aconviction so strong, that it amounted to positive certainty that thecause of truth and justice, or, in other words, the cause of hismuch-injured and most oppressed client, must prevail with thehigh-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now saw inthat box before him.

　　Counsel usually begin in this way, because it puts the jury onthe very best terms with themselves, and makes them think whatsharp fellows they must be. A visible effect was producedimmediately, several jurymen beginning to take voluminous noteswith the utmost eagerness.

　　‘You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen,’ continuedSerjeant Buzfuz, well knowing that, from the learned friendalluded to, the gentlemen of the jury had heard just nothing atall―‘you have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen, that thisis an action for a breach of promise of marriage, in which thedamages are laid at ?1,500. But you have not heard from mylearned friend, inasmuch as it did not come within my learnedfriend’s province to tell you, what are the facts and circumstancesof the case. Those facts and circumstances, gentlemen, you shallhear detailed by me, and proved by the unimpeachable femalewhom I will place in that box before you.’

　　Here, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, with a tremendous emphasis on theword ‘box,’ smote his table with a mighty sound, and glanced atDodson and Fogg, who nodded admiration of the Serjeant, andindignant defiance of the defendant.

　　‘The plaintiff, gentlemen,’ continued Serjeant Buzfuz, in a softand melancholy voice, ‘the plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, awidow. The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, theesteem and confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians ofhis royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, toseek elsewhere for that repose and peace which a custom-housecan never afford.’ At this pathetic description of the decease of Mr.

　　Bardell, who had been knocked on the head with a quart-pot in apublic-house cellar, the learned serjeant’s voice faltered, and heproceeded, with emotion―‘Some time before his death, he had stamped his likeness upona little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departedexciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrank from the world, and courted theretirement and tranquillity of Goswell Street; and here she placedin her front parlour window a written placard, bearing thisinscription―“Apartments furnished for a single gentleman.

　　Inquire within.”’ Here Serjeant Buzfuz paused, while severalgentlemen of the jury took a note of the document.

　　‘There is no date to that, is there?’ inquired a juror. ‘There is nodate, gentlemen,’ replied Serjeant Buzfuz; ‘but I am instructed tosay that it was put in the plaintiff’s parlour window just this timethree years. I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording ofthis document―“Apartments furnished for a single gentleman”!

　　Mrs. Bardell’s opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, werederived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities ofher lost husband. She had no fear, she had no distrust, she had nosuspicion; all was confidence and reliance. “Mr. Bardell,” said thewidow―“Mr. Bardell was a man of honour, Mr. Bardell was a manof his word, Mr. Bardell was no deceiver, Mr. Bardell was once asingle gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection,for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation; in singlegentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of whatMr. Bardell was when he first won my young and untriedaffections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let.”

　　Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among the bestimpulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the lonely anddesolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caughther innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in herparlour window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was onthe watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapperand miner was at work. Before the bill had been in the parlourwindow three days―three days, gentlemen―a being, erect upontwo legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and notof a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell’s house. Heinquired within―he took the lodgings; and on the very next dayhe entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick―Pickwick, the defendant.’

　　Serjeant Buzfuz, who had proceeded with such volubility thathis face was perfectly crimson, here paused for breath. The silenceawoke Mr. Justice Stareleigh, who immediately wrote downsomething with a pen without any ink in it, and looked unusuallyprofound, to impress the jury with the belief that he alwaysthought most deeply with his eyes shut. Serjeant Buzfuzproceeded―‘Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents butfew attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you,gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revoltingheartlessness, and of systematic villainy.’

　　Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence for sometime, gave a violent start, as if some vague idea of assaultingSerjeant Buzfuz, in the august presence of justice and law,suggested itself to his mind. An admonitory gesture from Perkerrestrained him, and he listened to the learned gentleman’scontinuation with a look of indignation, which contrasted forciblywith the admiring faces of Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders.

　　‘I say systematic villainy, gentlemen,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz,looking through Mr. Pickwick, and talking at him; ‘and when I saysystematic villainy, let me tell the defendant Pickwick, if he be incourt, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decentin him, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, ifhe had stopped away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that anygestures of dissent or disapprobation in which he may indulge inthis court will not go down with you; that you will know how tovalue and how to appreciate them; and let me tell him further, asmy Lord will tell you, gentlemen, that a counsel, in the dischargeof his duty to his client, is neither to be intimidated nor bullied,nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or theother, or the first, or the last, will recoil on the head of theattempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, be his namePickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, orThompson.’

　　This little divergence from the subject in hand, had, of course,the intended effect of turning all eyes to Mr. Pickwick. SerjeantBuzfuz, having partially recovered from the state of moralelevation into which he had lashed himself, resumed―‘I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years, Pickwickcontinued to reside constantly, and without interruption orintermission, at Mrs. Bardell’s house. I shall show you that Mrs.

　　Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended tohis comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for thewasherwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and preparedit for wear, when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullesttrust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, hegave halfpence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to her littleboy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it willbe impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, thaton one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and, afterinquiring whether he had won any “alley tors” or “commoneys”

　　lately (both of which I understand to be a particular species ofmarbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use of thisremarkable expression, “How should you like to have anotherfather?” I shall prove to you, gentlemen, that about a year ago,Pickwick suddenly began to absent himself from home, duringlong intervals, as if with the intention of gradually breaking offfrom my client; but I shall show you also, that his resolution wasnot at that time sufficiently strong, or that his better feelingsconquered, if better feelings he has, or that the charms andaccomplishments of my client prevailed against his unmanlyintentions, by proving to you, that on one occasion, when hereturned from the country, he distinctly and in terms, offered hermarriage: previously, however, taking special care that therewould be no witness to their solemn contract; and I am in asituation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his ownfriends―most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen―most unwillingwitnesses―that on that morning he was discovered by themholding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by hiscaresses and endearments.’

　　A visible impression was produced upon the auditors by thispart of the learned Serjeant’s address. Drawing forth two verysmall scraps of paper, he proceeded―‘And now, gentlemen, butone word more. Two letters have passed between these parties,letters which are admitted to be in the handwriting of thedefendant, and which speak volumes, indeed. The letters, too,bespeak the character of the man. They are not open, fervent,eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the language ofaffectionate attachment. They are covert, sly, underhandedcommunications, but, fortunately, far more conclusive than ifcouched in the most glowing language and the most poeticimagery―letters that must be viewed with a cautious andsuspicious eye―letters that were evidently intended at the time,by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whosehands they might fall. Let me read the first: “Garraways, twelveo’clock. Dear Mrs. B.―Chops and tomato sauce. Yours,PICKWICK.” Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and tomatosauce. Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious heavens! and tomatosauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confidingfemale to be trifled away, by such shallow artifices as these? Thenext has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. “DearMrs. B., I shall not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach.” Andthen follows this very remarkable expression. “Don’t troubleyourself about the warming-pan.” The warming-pan! Why,gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? Whenwas the peace of mind of man or woman broken or disturbed by awarming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will add,gentlemen, a comforting article of domestic furniture? Why is Mrs.

　　Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about thiswarming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover forhidden fire―a mere substitute for some endearing word orpromise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence,artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplateddesertion, and which I am not in a condition to explain? And whatdoes this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know, itmay be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has mostunquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole ofthis transaction, but whose speed will now be very unexpectedlyaccelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to hiscost, will very soon be greased by you!’

　　Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz paused in this place, to see whether thejury smiled at his joke; but as nobody took it but the greengrocer,whose sensitiveness on the subject was very probably occasionedby his having subjected a chaise-cart to the process in question onthat identical morning, the learned Serjeant considered itadvisable to undergo a slight relapse into the dismals before heconcluded.

　　‘But enough of this, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, ‘it isdifficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when ourdeepest sympathies are awakened. My client’s hopes andprospects are ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that heroccupation is gone indeed. The bill is down―but there is notenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass―but there is noinvitation for to inquire within or without. All is gloom and silencein the house; even the voice of the child is hushed; his infantsports are disregarded when his mother weeps; his “alley tors”

　　and his “commoneys” are alike neglected; he forgets the longfamiliar cry of “knuckle down,” and at tip-cheese, or odd and even,his hand is out. But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthlessdestroyer of this domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell Street―Pickwick who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on thesward―Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartlesstomato sauce and warming-pans―Pickwick still rears his headwith unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruinhe has made. Damages, gentlemen―heavy damages is the onlypunishment with which you can visit him; the only recompenseyou can award to my client. And for those damages she nowappeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, aconscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathising, a contemplativejury of her civilised countrymen.’ With this beautiful peroration,Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz sat down, and Mr. Justice Stareleigh wokeup.

　　‘Call Elizabeth Cluppins,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, rising a minuteafterwards, with renewed vigour.

　　The nearest usher called for Elizabeth Tuppins; another one, ata little distance off, demanded Elizabeth Jupkins; and a thirdrushed in a breathless state into King Street, and screamed forElizabeth Muffins till he was hoarse.

　　Meanwhile Mrs. Cluppins, with the combined assistance of Mrs.

　　Bardell, Mrs. Sanders, Mr. Dodson, and Mr. Fogg, was hoisted intothe witness-box; and when she was safely perched on the top step,Mrs. Bardell stood on the bottom one, with the pocket-handkerchief and pattens in one hand, and a glass bottle thatmight hold about a quarter of a pint of smelling-salts in the other,ready for any emergency. Mrs. Sanders, whose eyes were intentlyfixed on the judge’s face, planted herself close by, with the largeumbrella, keeping her right thumb pressed on the spring with anearnest countenance, as if she were fully prepared to put it up at amoment’s notice.

　　‘Mrs. Cluppins,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, ‘pray compose yourself,ma’am.’ Of course, directly Mrs. Cluppins was desired to composeherself, she sobbed with increased vehemence, and gave diversalarming manifestations of an approaching fainting fit, or, as sheafterwards said, of her feelings being too many for her.

　　‘Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, after afew unimportant questions―‘do you recollect being in Mrs.

　　Bardell’s back one pair of stairs, on one particular morning in Julylast, when she was dusting Pickwick’s apartment?’

　　‘Yes, my Lord and jury, I do,’ replied Mrs. Cluppins.

　　‘Mr. Pickwick’s sitting-room was the first-floor front, I believe?’

　　‘Yes, it were, sir,’ replied Mrs. Cluppins.

　　‘What were you doing in the back room, ma’am?’ inquired thelittle judge.

　　‘My Lord and jury,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, with interestingagitation, ‘I will not de............