enough to have been treated with haughty contempt by the corpulent
waiter so admirably described, with his "coeval stockings."

Even the poor horse is not spared, "Rampacious" he is styled; the stone
animal that still stands over the porch. It must be said that the steed
in question is a very mild animal indeed, and far from ramping, is
trotting placidly along. "Rampacious," however, scarcely seems
correct--"Rampagious" is the proper form--particularly as "Boz" uses the
words "On the rampage." We find ourselves ever looking at the animal
with interest--as he effects his trot, one leg bent. The porch, and
horse above it, have a sort of sacred character. I confess when I saw it
for the first time I looked at it with an almost absurd reverence and
curiosity. The thing is so much in keeping, one would expect to see the
coach laden with Pickwickians drive up.

Mr. Pickwick's adventure, his losing his way in the passages, &c., might
occur to anyone. It is an odd feeling, the staying at this old hostelry,
and, as it draws on towards midnight, seeking your room, through endless
windings, turns, and short flights. There is even now to be seen the
niche where Mr. Pickwick sat down for the night; so minute are the
directions we can trace the various rooms. Mr. Pickwick asked for a
private room and was taken down a "long dark passage." It turned out
later that Miss Witherfield's sitting-room was actually next door, so Mr.
Magnus had not far to go. These rooms were on the ground floor, so Mr.
Pickwick had to "descend" from his bedroom.

There is a tradition indeed that Mr. Pickwick's adventure with a lady
really occurred to "Boz" himself, who had lost his way in the mazes of
the passages. I have a theory that his uncomfortable night in the
passages, and the possible displeasure of the authorities, may have
jaundiced his views.

II.--Eatanswill and Ipswich

It is not "generally known" that Ipswich is introduced twice in the book:
as Eatanswill, as well asunder its own proper name. As "Boz" was dealing
with the corrupt practices at Elections, and severely ridiculing them, he
was naturally afraid of being made responsible. Further, he had been
despatched by the proprietors of the _Chronicle_ to report the speeches
at the election, and he did not care to take advantage of his mission for
literary purposes. The father of the late Mr. Alfred Morrison, the well-
known, amiable virtuoso, was one of the candidates fo