ly neither the lady nor Mr. Pickwick have taken off their garments.
To produce this result, much elaborate machinery was requisite. The beds
were arranged as if on the stage, one on each side of the door with a
sort of little lane between the wall and each bed. Mr. Pickwick, we are
told, actually crept into this lane, got to the end where there was a
chair, and in this straight, confined situation proceeded to take off his
coat and vest and to fold them up. It was thus artfully brought about
that he appeared to have gone to bed, and could look out from the dimity
curtains without having done so. It does not strike every one that Mr.
Pickwick, under ordinary circumstances, would have taken off his "things"
before the fire just as the lady did, in the free and open space, and not
huddled up in a dark corner. However, as Mr. Weller says: "It wos to be,
and--it wos," or we should have had no story and no laugh.

There is a pleasant story--quite akin to Mr. Pickwick's adventure--of
what befell Thackeray when travelling in America. Going up to bed, he
mistook the floor, and entered a room the very counterpart of his own. He
had begun to take off his clothes, when a soft voice came from
within--"_Is that you_, _George_?" In a panic, he bundled up his things,
like Mr. Pickwick, and hurriedly rushed out, thinking what would be the
confusion should he encounter "George" at the door. Anthony Trollope, my
old, pleasant friend and sponsor at the Garrick Club, used to relate
another of these hotel misadventures which, he protested, was the most
"side-splitting" thing ever he heard of. A gentleman who was staying at
one of the monster Paris hotels with his lady, was seized with some
violent cold or pulmonary attack. She went down to try and get him a
mustard plaster, which, with much difficulty, she contrived. Returning
in triumph, as Mr. Pickwick did with his recovered watch, she found that
he had fallen into a gentle sleep, and was lying with his head buried in
the pillows. With much softness and deftness, she quickly drew away the
coverings, and, without disturbing him, managed to insinuate the plaster
into its proper place. Having done her duty, she then proceeded to lie
down, when the sleeping man, moving uneasily, awoke and showed his face.
It was _not_ her husband! She fled from the room. The humour of the
thing--as described by Trollope--was the bewilderment of the man on
discovering the damp and burning mass tha