by the goblins; and there were not wanting some very credible
witnesses who had distinctly seen him whisked through the air on the
back of a chestnut horse blind of one eye, with the hind-quarters of a
lion, and the tail of a bear. At length all this was devoutly believed;
and the new sexton used to exhibit to the curious, for a trifling
emolument, a good-sized piece of the church weathercock which had been
accidentally kicked off by the aforesaid horse in his aerial flight, and
picked up by himself in the churchyard, a year or two afterwards.

'Unfortunately, these stories were somewhat disturbed by the
unlooked-for reappearance of Gabriel Grub himself, some ten years
afterwards, a ragged, contented, rheumatic old man. He told his story to
the clergyman, and also to the mayor; and in course of time it began to
be received as a matter of history, in which form it has continued
down to this very day. The believers in the weathercock tale, having
misplaced their confidence once, were not easily prevailed upon to part
with it again, so they looked as wise as they could, shrugged their
shoulders, touched their foreheads, and murmured something about Gabriel
Grub having drunk all the Hollands, and then fallen asleep on the
flat tombstone; and they affected to explain what he supposed he had
witnessed in the goblin's cavern, by saying that he had seen the world,
and grown wiser. But this opinion, which was by no means a popular
one at any time, gradually died off; and be the matter how it may, as
Gabriel Grub was afflicted with rheumatism to the end of his days, this
story has at least one moral, if it teach no better one--and that is,
that if a man turn sulky and drink by himself at Christmas time, he may
make up his mind to be not a bit the better for it: let the spirits
be never so good, or let them be even as many degrees beyond proof, as
those which Gabriel Grub saw in the goblin's cavern.'

CHAPTER XXX. HOW THE PICKWICKIANS MADE AND CULTIVATED THE ACQUAINTANCE
OF A COUPLE OF NICE YOUNG MEN BELONGING TO ONE OF THE LIBERAL
PROFESSIONS; HOW THEY DISPORTED THEMSELVES ON THE ICE; AND HOW THEIR
VISIT CAME TO A CONCLUSION

'Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as that favoured servitor entered his
bed-chamber, with his warm water, on the morning of Christmas Day,
'still frosty?'

'Water in the wash-hand basin's a mask o' ice, Sir,' responded Sam.

'Severe weather, Sam,' observed Mr. Pickwick.

'Fine time for them as is w