company--fiddles tuning--now the harp--there they go.' The
various sounds which found their way downstairs announced the
commencement of the first quadrille.

'How I should like to go,' said Mr. Tupman again.

'So should I,' said the stranger--'confounded luggage,--heavy
smacks--nothing to go in--odd, ain't it?'

Now general benevolence was one of the leading features of the
Pickwickian theory, and no one was more remarkable for the
zealous manner in which he observed so noble a principle than
Mr. Tracy Tupman. The number of instances recorded on the
Transactions of the Society, in which that excellent man referred
objects of charity to the houses of other members for left-off
garments or pecuniary relief is almost incredible.
'I should be very happy to lend you a change of apparel for the
purpose,' said Mr. Tracy Tupman, 'but you are rather slim, and
I am--'

'Rather fat--grown-up Bacchus--cut the leaves--dismounted
from the tub, and adopted kersey, eh?--not double distilled, but
double milled--ha! ha! pass the wine.'

Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory
tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the
stranger passed so quickly away, or whether he felt very properly
scandalised at an influential member of the Pickwick Club being
ignominiously compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not
yet completely ascertained. He passed the wine, coughed twice,