Chapter 30 - Page 2

gentleman is his very particular
friend, Mr.--'

'Mr. Bob Sawyer,'interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen; whereupon
Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen laughed in concert.

Mr. Pickwick bowed to Bob Sawyer, and Bob Sawyer bowed
to Mr. Pickwick. Bob and his very particular friend then applied
themselves most assiduously to the eatables before them; and
Mr. Pickwick had an opportunity of glancing at them both.

Mr. Benjamin Allen was a coarse, stout, thick-set young man,
with black hair cut rather short, and a white face cut rather long.
He was embellished with spectacles, and wore a white neckerchief.
Below his single-breasted black surtout, which was
buttoned up to his chin, appeared the usual number of pepper-
and-salt coloured legs, terminating in a pair of imperfectly
polished boots. Although his coat was short in the sleeves, it
disclosed no vestige of a linen wristband; and although there was
quite enough of his face to admit of the encroachment of a shirt
collar, it was not graced by the smallest approach to that appendage.
He presented, altogether, rather a mildewy appearance,
and emitted a fragrant odour of full-flavoured Cubas.

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