and made me look decent, and took me
to a bow-winder'd room on the first floor, threw up; the sash, and
exhibited me to the company outside. I bowed and kissed my hand like a
candidate. They cheered and shouted, and then called for silence whilst;
I addressed them. "Gentlemen," said I, "Who are you?" "Why, we be the
men wot carried your honour's glory from Cavendish Street, and wants to
be paid for it."; "Gentlemen," said I, "I'm no orator, but I'm a honest
man; I pays everybody twenty shillings in the pound. and no mistake
(cheers). If you had done your part of the bargain, I would have done
mine, but 'ow can you expect to be paid after spilling me? This is a
most inclement day, and, whatever you may say to the contrary, I'm not
Mr. Clement Wigney."--"No, nor Mr. Faithful neither," bellowed one
of the bearers.--said I, "you'll get the complaints of the season,
chilblains and influhensa, if you stand dribbling there in the snow. Let
me advise you to mizzle, for, if you don't, I'm blowed if I don't divide
a whole jug of cold water equally amongst you. Go home to your wives and
children, and don't be after annoying an honest, independent, amiable
publican, like Jonathan Boxall. That's all I've got to say, and if I was
to talk till I'm black in the face, I couldn't say nothing more to
the purpose; so, I wishes you all 'A Merry Christmas and an 'Appy New
Year.'"

But I'm fatiguing you, Mr. Nimrod, with all this, which is only
hinteresting to the parties concerned, so will pass on to other topics.
I saw the King riding in his coach with his Sunday coat on. He looked
werry well, but his nose was rather blueish at the end, a sure sign that
he is but a mortal, and feels the cold just like any other man. The
Queen did not show, but I saw some of her maids of honour, who made me
think of the Richmond cheesecakes. There were a host of pretty ladies,
and the cold gave a little colour to their noses, too, which, I think,
improved their appearance wastly, for I've always remarked that your
ladies of quality are rather pasty, and do not generally show their high
blood in their cheeks and noses. I'm werry fond of looking at pretty
girls, whether maids of 'onour or maids of all work.

The storm stopped all wisiting, and even the Countess of Winterton's
ball was obliged to be put off. Howsomever, that did not interfere at
all with Jonathan Boxall and me, except that it, perhaps, made us take
a bottom of brandy more than usual, particula