"Oh, I see; yes, yes; good, good; better and better. You are the gentleman residing on Clapham Green who lost the use of your limbs from imprudently taking cold _after port wine_, who could not be moved in consequence of acute suffering, and who had the water from the King's Bath bottled at 103 degrees and sent by waggon to his bed-room in town, where he bathed, sneezed, and same day recovered." This amusing concatenation is, besides, an admirable and very minute stroke of character, and the frivolous M.C. is brought before us perfectly. While a capital touch is that when he saw young Mr. Mutanhead approaching. "Hush! draw a little nearer, Mr. Pickwick. You see that splendidly dressed young man coming this way--the richest young man in Bath!" "You don't say so," said Mr. Pickwick. "_Yes_, _you'll hear his voice in a moment_, _Mr. Pickwick_. _He'll speak to me_." _Particular_ awe and reverence could not be better expressed. It is curious how accurate the young fellow was in all his details. He describes the ball as beginning at "precisely twenty minutes before eight o'clock;" and according to the old rules it had to begin as soon after seven as possible. "Stay in the tea room and take your sixpennorths." Mr. Dowler's advice was after a regulation "that everyone admitted to the tea-rooms on dress nights shall pay _6d._ for tea." The M.C.'s visit to Mr. Pickwick was a real carrying out of the spirit of the regulations, in which it was requested that "all strangers will give the M.C. an opportunity of being introduced to them before they themselves are entitled to that attention and respect." Nothing is more gratifying to the genuine Pickwickians than to find how all these old memories of the book are fondly cherished in the good city. All the Pickwickian localities are identified, and the inhabitants are eager in every way to maintain that Mr. Pickwick belongs to them, and had been with them. We should have had his room in the White Hart pointed out, and "slept in" by Americans and others, had it still been left to stand. Not long since, the writer went down to the good old city for the pleasant duty of "preaching Pickwick," as he had done in a good many places. There is an antique building or temple not far from where an old society of the place--the Bath Literary and Scientific Institute--holds its meetings, and here, to a crowded gathering under the presidency of Mr. Austen King, the subject was gone into. It was delightful for the Pickwickian stranger to meet so appreciative a response, and many curious details were mentioned. At the close--such is the force of the delusion--we were all discussing Mr. Pickwick and his movements here and there, with the same _conviction_ as we would have had in the case of Miss Burney, or Mrs. Thrale or Dr. Johnson. The whole atmosphere was congenial, and there was an old-world, old-fashioned air over the rooms. It was delightful to be talking of Mr. Pickwick's Bath adventures in Bath.