e his death, he had stamped his likeness upon a little
boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman,
Mrs. Bardell shrank from the world, and courted the retirement and
tranquillity of Goswell Street; and here she placed in her front
parlour window a written placard, bearing this inscription--"Apartments
furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within."' Here Serjeant Buzfuz
paused, while several gentlemen of the jury took a note of the document.

'There is no date to that, is there?' inquired a juror. 'There is no
date, gentlemen,' replied Serjeant Buzfuz; 'but I am instructed to say
that it was put in the plaintiff's parlour window just this time three
years. I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this
document--"Apartments furnished for a single gentleman"! Mrs. Bardell's
opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long
contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had
no fear, she had no distrust, she had no suspicion; all was confidence
and reliance. "Mr. Bardell," said the widow--"Mr. Bardell was a man of
honour, Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, Mr. Bardell was no deceiver,
Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I
look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation;
in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of
what Mr. Bardell was when he first won my young and untried affections;
to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this
beautiful and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect
nature, gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears,
furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal
bosom, and put the bill up in her parlour window. Did it remain there
long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was
preparing, the sapper and miner was at work. Before the bill had been
in the parlour window three days--three days, gentlemen--a being, erect
upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not
of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired
within--he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into
possession of them. This man was Pickwick--Pickwick, the defendant.'

Serjeant Buzfuz, who had proceeded with such volubility that his face
was perfectly crimson, here paused for breath. The silence awoke Mr.
Justice Starele