As an instance of the natural, every-day sort of tone prevailing through the book, it may be noted that it is mentioned as a matter of history, that the breakfast next day was at eleven o'clock--a late hour. But we know, though it is not pointed out, that Mr. Magnus and Mr. Pickwick had sat till morning drinking brandy and water, and that Mr. Pickwick had spent a portion of the night wandering about the Hotel. Naturally he came down late. We are also minutely told that Mr. Magnus left the room at ten minutes past eleven. Mr. Pickwick "took a few strides to and fro," when it became half past eleven! But this is a rather mysterious passage, for we next learn that "the _small hand_ of the clock, following the _latter part_ of his example, had arrived at the figure which indicates the half hour." The "latter part," would refer to "fro." Perhaps it is a fresh gibe at the unlucky White Horse and its administration. The "small hand," in any case, could not, and would not, point to the half hour, save that it had got loosened, and had jumped down, as hands will do, to seek the centre of gravity. How natural, too, is the appearance of Jingle. With Wardles' 120 pounds in his pocket, he was flush of cash, and could make a new appearance--in a new district--as an officer--Captain FitzMarshall. He was "picked up," we are told, at some neighbouring races. Sudbury and Stowmarket are not far off. Some years ago, the late Lady Quain was staying at Ipswich and took so deep an interest in the "Great White Horse" and its traditions that she had it with all its apartments photographed on a large scale, forming a regular series. Her husband, the amiable physician whose loss we have to deplore, gave them to me. The "White Horse" was decidedly wrong in having Mr. Pickwick's double-bedded room fitted up with brass Birmingham bedsteads. Were I the proprietor I would assuredly have the room arranged exactly as in Phiz's picture--the two old-fashioned four-posts with the dimity curtains, the rush light and shade on the floor, the old glass on the dressing-table. To be even more realistic still there might be added Mr. Pickwick's night-capped head peeping out, and the lean presentment of the lady herself, all, say, in wax, _a la Tussaud_. What a show and attraction that would be! The author's ingenuity was never at fault in the face of a difficulty. Mr. Pickwick was to be got to Nupkins' in a sedan chair, a grotesque incident; but then, what to do with Tupman, also arrested? As both would not fit in an ordinary sedan, the sedan was made to fit _them_, and thus it was done. "It was recollected that there stood in the Inn yard an old sedan chair, which, having been originally built for a gouty gentleman with funded property, would hold Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman at least as conveniently as a modern postchaise."