Boz cannot give the accommodation a good word, for he calls the Pickwickian room "a large, badly furnished apartment, with _a dirty grate_ in which a small fire was making a wretched attempt to be cheerful, but was fast sinking beneath the dispiriting influence of the place." The dinner, too, seems to have been as bad, for a _bit of fish_ and a steak took one hour to get ready, with "_a bottle of the worst possible port_, _at the highest possible price_." Depreciation of a hostelry could not be more damaging. Again, Mr. Pickwick's bedroom is described as a sort of surprise, being "a more comfortable-looking apartment that his short experience of the accommodation of the Great White House had led him to expect." Now this was bad enough, but his sketch of the waiter who received the arriving party is worse: "A corpulent man, with a fortnight's napkin under his arm and coeval stockings." There is something so hostile in all this that it certainly must have come from a sense of bad reception. As we said, the young reporter was likely enough to have been treated with haughty contempt by the corpulent waiter so admirably described, with his "coeval stockings." Even the poor horse is not spared, "Rampacious" he is styled; the stone animal that still stands over the porch. It must be said that the steed in question is a very mild animal indeed, and far from ramping, is trotting placidly along. "Rampacious," however, scarcely seems correct--"Rampagious" is the proper form--particularly as "Boz" uses the words "On the rampage." We find ourselves ever looking at the animal with interest--as he effects his trot, one leg bent. The porch, and horse above it, have a sort of sacred character. I confess when I saw it for the first time I looked at it with an almost absurd reverence and curiosity. The thing is so much in keeping, one would expect to see the coach laden with Pickwickians drive up. Mr. Pickwick's adventure, his losing his way in the passages, &c., might occur to anyone. It is an odd feeling, the staying at this old hostelry, and, as it draws on towards midnight, seeking your room, through endless windings, turns, and short flights. There is even now to be seen the niche where Mr. Pickwick sat down for the night; so minute are the directions we can trace the various rooms. Mr. Pickwick asked for a private room and was taken down a "long dark passage." It turned out later that Miss Witherfield's sitting-room was actually next door, so Mr. Magnus had not far to go. These rooms were on the ground floor, so Mr. Pickwick had to "descend" from his bedroom. There is a tradition indeed that Mr. Pickwick's adventure with a lady really occurred to "Boz" himself, who had lost his way in the mazes of the passages. I have a theory that his uncomfortable night in the passages, and the possible displeasure of the authorities, may have jaundiced his views. II.--Eatanswill and Ipswich