The Deputy Shepherd's particular "vanity" appears to have been buttered toast and reeking hot pine-apple rum and water, which sounds like swimming-in-the-head; and going straight through the book, we next pause at the description of the supper given by the medical students, at their lodgings in the Borough, to the Pickwickians. "The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent had not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an oyster with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork; and very little was done in this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham (which was from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in a similar predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can; and the cheese went a great way, for it was very strong." Probably the oysters had not been paid for in advance, and the man imagined that they would be returned upon his hands none the worse. For at that time--as has been remarked before, in this volume on gastronomy--the knowledge that an oyster baked in his own shells, in the middle of a clear fire, is an appetising dish, does not appear to have been universal. It is questionable if a supper consisting of a boiled leg of mutton "with the usual trimmings" would have satisfied the taste of the "gentleman's gentleman" of to-day, who is a hypercritic, if anything; but let that supper be taken as read. Also let it be noted that the appetite of the redoubtable Pickwick never seems to have failed him, even in the sponging-house--five to one can be betted that those chops were _fried_--or in the Fleet Prison itself. And mention of this establishment recalls the extravagant folly of Job Trotter (who of all men ought to have known better) in purchasing "a small piece of raw loin of mutton" for the refection of himself and ruined master; when for the same money he could surely have obtained a sufficiency of bullock's cheek or liver, potatoes, and onions, to provide dinner for three days. _Vide_ the "Kent Road Cookery," in one of my earlier chapters. The description of the journeys from Bristol to Birmingham, and back to London, absolutely reeks with food and alcohol; and it has always smacked of the mysterious to myself how Sam Weller, a pure Cockney, could have known so much of the capacities of the various hostelries on the road. Evidently his knowledge of other places besides London was "peculiar." Last scene of all in _Pickwick_ requiring mention here, is the refection given to Mr. Solomon Pell in honour of the proving of the late Dame Weller's last will and testament. "Porter, cold beef, and oysters," were some of the incidents of that meal, and we read that "the coachman with the hoarse voice took an imperial pint of vinegar with his oysters, without betraying the least emotion."