‘We are pretty confident, though,’ said Mr. Perker, sinking his voice almost to a whisper. ‘We had a little tea-party here, last night--five- and-forty women, my dear sir--and gave every one of ‘em a green parasol when she went away.’ ‘A parasol!’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Fact, my dear Sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols, at seven and sixpence a-piece. All women like finery--extraordinary the effect of those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half their brothers-- beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thing hollow. My idea, my dear Sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine, you can’t walk half a dozen yards up the street, without encountering half a dozen green parasols.’ Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which was only checked by the entrance of a third party. This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined to baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended with a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. A double eyeglass dangled at his waistcoat; and on his head he wore a very low-crowned hat with a broad brim. The new-comer was introduced to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott, the editor of the Eatanswill _Gazette_. After a few preliminary remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with solemnity-- ‘This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?’ ‘I believe it does,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘To which I have reason to know,’ said Pott, looking towards Mr. Perker for corroboration--‘to which I have reason to know that my article of last Saturday in some degree contributed.’ ‘Not the least doubt of it,’ said the little man. ‘The press is a mighty engine, sir,’ said Pott. Mr. Pickwick yielded his fullest assent to the proposition. ‘But I trust, sir,’ said Pott, ‘that I have never abused the enormous power I wield. I trust, sir, that I have never pointed the noble instrument which is placed in my hands, against the sacred bosom of private life, or the tender breast of individual reputation; I trust, sir, that I have devoted my energies to--to endeavours--humble they may be, humble I know they are--to instil those principles of--which--are--’ Here the editor of the Eatanswill _Gazette_, appearing to ramble, Mr. Pickwick came to his relief, and said-- ‘Certainly.’ ‘And what, Sir,’ said Pott--‘what, Sir, let me ask you as an impartial man, is the state of the public mind in London, with reference to my contest with the _Independent_?’ ‘Greatly excited, no doubt,’ interposed Mr. Perker, with a look of slyness which was very likely accidental.