pan, which is in itself
a harmless, a useful, and I will add, gentlemen, a comfortable article
of domestic furniture? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not
to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the
case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire--a mere substitute for some
endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of
correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his
contemplated desertion, and which I am not in a condition to explain!
And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know,
it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably
been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but
whose speed will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose
wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon be
greased by you!"

Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz paused in this place to see whether the jury
smiled at his joke; but as nobody took it but the greengrocer, whose
sensitiveness on the subject was very probably occasioned by his
having subjected a chaise cart to the process in question on that
identical morning, the learned Serjeant considered it advisable to
undergo a slight relapse into the dismals before he concluded.

"But enough of this, gentlemen," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, "it is
difficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when our
deepest sympathies are awakened. My client's hopes and prospects are
ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is
gone indeed. The bill is down--but there is no tenant. Eligible
single gentlemen pass and repass--but there is no invitation for them
to inquire within or without. All is gloom and silence in the house;
even the voice of the child is hushed--his infant sports are
disregarded when his mother weeps; his 'alley tors' and his
'commoneys' are alike neglected; he forgets the long familiar cry of
'knuckle down,' and at tip-cheese, or odd or even, his hand is out.
But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this
domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell Street--Pickwick, who has
choked up the well and thrown ashes on the sward--Pickwick, who comes
before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and
warming-pans--Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing
effrontery, and gazes without a sigh o