nor, the size of life.'

As Mr. Weller spoke, Mr. Pickwick dismounted from a cab, and entered the
yard. 'Fine mornin', Sir,' said Mr. Weller, senior.

'Beautiful indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'Beautiful indeed,' echoes a red-haired man with an inquisitive nose and
green spectacles, who had unpacked himself from a cab at the same moment
as Mr. Pickwick. 'Going to Ipswich, Sir?'

'I am,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'Extraordinary coincidence. So am I.'

Mr. Pickwick bowed.

'Going outside?' said the red-haired man. Mr. Pickwick bowed again.

'Bless my soul, how remarkable--I am going outside, too,' said the
red-haired man; 'we are positively going together.' And the red-haired
man, who was an important-looking, sharp-nosed, mysterious-spoken
personage, with a bird-like habit of giving his head a jerk every
time he said anything, smiled as if he had made one of the strangest
discoveries that ever fell to the lot of human wisdom.

'I am happy in the prospect of your company, Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Ah,' said the new-comer, 'it's a good thing for both of us, isn't it?
Company, you see--company--is--is--it's a very different thing from
solitude--ain't it?'

'There's no denying that 'ere,' said Mr. Weller, joining in the
conversation, with an affable smile. 'That's what I call a self-evident
proposition, as the dog's-meat man said, when the housemaid told him he
warn't a gentleman.'

'Ah,' said the red-haired man, surveying Mr. Weller from head to foot
with a supercilious look. 'Friend of yours, sir?'

'Not exactly a friend,' replied Mr. Pickwick, in a low tone. 'The fact
is, he is my servant, but I allow him to take a good many liberties;
for, between ourselves, I flatter myself he is an original, and I am
rather proud of him.'

'Ah,' said the red-haired man, 'that, you see, is a matter of taste.
I am not fond of anything original; I don't like it; don't see the
necessity for it. What's your name, sir?'

'Here is my card, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, much amused by the
abruptness of the question, and the singular manner of the stranger.

'Ah,' said the red-haired man, placing the card in his pocket-book,
'Pickwick; very good. I like to know a man's name, it saves so much
trouble. That's my card, sir. Magnus, you will perceive, sir--Magnus is
my name. It's rather a good name, I think, sir.'

'A very good name, indeed,' said Mr. Pickwick, wholly unable to repress
a smile.

'Yes, I think it is,' resumed Mr.