'They must smoke a great deal of tobacco in these towns,' wrote Mr Pickwick, 'because the smell is everywhere in the streets and must be exceedingly delicious to those who are extremely fond of smoking. A superficial traveller might object to the dirt, which is the first thing you notice; but to those who view it as an indication of traffic and commercial prosperity, it is truly gratifying'.

The stranger came punctually at five o'clock , and shortly afterwards the dinner came too. The stranger no longer carried his brown paper parcel, but had made no alteration to his clothing, and was, if possible, more loquacious than ever. 'What's that?' he inquired, as the waiter removed one of the covers of the food.

'Sole? - ah! - capital fish - all come from London - stagecoach proprietors bring them up for political dinners - dozens of baskets - cunning fellows. Let's have a glass of wine, Sir.' And the stranger took wine, first with Mr Pickwick, and then with Mr Snodgrass, and then with Mr Tupman, and then with Mr Winkle, and then with the whole party together, almost as rapidly as he talked.