Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was habited in a coarse, blue coat, which, without being either a greatcoat or a surtout, partook of the nature and qualities of both, had about him that sort of slovenly smartness, and swaggering gait, which is peculiar to young gentlemen who smoke in the streets by day, shout and scream in the same by night, call waiters by their Christian names, and do various other acts and deeds of an equally facetious description. He wore a pair of plaid trousers, and a large, rough, double-breasted waistcoat; out of doors, he carried a thick stick with a big top. He eschewed gloves, and looked, upon the whole, something like a dissipated Robinson Crusoe. Such were the two worthies to whom Mr. Pickwick was introduced, as he took his seat at the breakfast-table on Christmas morning. ‘Splendid morning, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Bob Sawyer slightly nodded his assent to the proposition, and asked Mr. Benjamin Allen for the mustard. ‘Have you come far this morning, gentlemen?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick. ‘Blue Lion at Muggleton,’ briefly responded Mr. Allen. ‘You should have joined us last night,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘So we should,’ replied Bob Sawyer, ‘but the brandy was too good to leave in a hurry; wasn’t it, Ben?’ ‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Benjamin Allen; ‘and the cigars were not bad, or the pork-chops either; were they, Bob?’ ‘Decidedly not,’ said Bob. The particular friends resumed their attack upon the breakfast, more freely than before, as if the recollection of last night’s supper had imparted a new relish to the meal. ‘Peg away, Bob,’ said Mr. Allen, to his companion, encouragingly. ‘So I do,’ replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do him justice, he did. ‘Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appetite,’ said Mr. Bob Sawyer, looking round the table. Mr. Pickwick slightly shuddered. ‘By the bye, Bob,’ said Mr. Allen, ‘have you finished that leg yet?’ ‘Nearly,’ replied Sawyer, helping himself to half a fowl as he spoke. ‘It’s a very muscular one for a child’s.’ Is it?’ inquired Mr. Allen carelessly. ‘Very,’ said Bob Sawyer, with his mouth full. ‘I’ve put my name down for an arm at our place,’ said Mr. Allen. ‘We’re clubbing for a subject, and the list is nearly full, only we can’t get hold of any fellow that wants a head. I wish you’d take it.’ ‘No,’ replied ‘Bob Sawyer; ‘can’t afford expensive luxuries.’ ‘Nonsense!’ said Allen. ‘Can’t, indeed,’ rejoined Bob Sawyer, ‘I wouldn’t mind a brain, but I couldn’t stand a whole head.’ Hush, hush, gentlemen, pray,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘I hear the ladies.’ As Mr. Pickwick spoke, the ladies, gallantly escorted by Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, returned from an early walk. ‘Why, Ben!’ said Arabella, in a tone which expressed more surprise than pleasure at the sight of her brother. ‘Come to take you home to-morrow,’ replied Benjamin. Mr. Winkle turned pale.