spatch Job
Trotter to the illustrious Mr. Pell, with an authority to deliver to
the bearer the formal discharge which his prudent parent had had the
foresight to leave in the hands of that learned gentleman, in case it
should be, at any time, required on an emergency; his next proceeding
was, to invest his whole stock of ready-money in the purchase of
five-and-twenty gallons of mild porter, which he himself dispensed on
the racket-ground to everybody who would partake of it; this done, he
hurra'd in divers parts of the building until he lost his voice,
and then quietly relapsed into his usual collected and philosophical
condition.

At three o'clock that afternoon, Mr. Pickwick took a last look at his
little room, and made his way, as well as he could, through the throng
of debtors who pressed eagerly forward to shake him by the hand, until
he reached the lodge steps. He turned here, to look about him, and his
eye lightened as he did so. In all the crowd of wan, emaciated faces, he
saw not one which was not happier for his sympathy and charity.

'Perker,' said Mr. Pickwick, beckoning one young man towards him, 'this
is Mr. Jingle, whom I spoke to you about.'

'Very good, my dear Sir,' replied Perker, looking hard at Jingle. 'You
will see me again, young man, to-morrow. I hope you may live to remember
and feel deeply, what I shall have to communicate, Sir.'

Jingle bowed respectfully, trembled very much as he took Mr. Pickwick's
proffered hand, and withdrew.

'Job you know, I think?' said Mr. Pickwick, presenting that gentleman.

'I know the rascal,' replied Perker good-humouredly. 'See after your
friend, and be in the way to-morrow at one. Do you hear? Now, is there
anything more?'

'Nothing,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 'You have delivered the little parcel
I gave you for your old landlord, Sam?'

'I have, Sir,' replied Sam. 'He bust out a-cryin', Sir, and said you
wos wery gen'rous and thoughtful, and he only wished you could have
him innockilated for a gallopin' consumption, for his old friend as
had lived here so long wos dead, and he'd noweres to look for another.'
'Poor fellow, poor fellow!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'God bless you, my
friends!'

As Mr. Pickwick uttered this adieu, the crowd raised a loud shout. Many
among them were pressing forward to shake him by the hand again, when he
drew his arm through Perker's, and hurried from the prison, far more sad
and melancholy, for the moment, than when he had first e