jars of pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiled hams, and rounds of beef, arranged on shelves in the most tempting and delicious array.  Well, that was comfortable, too; but even this was not all—­for in the bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little table, drawn close up before the brightest possible little fire, was a buxom widow of somewhere about eight-and-forty or thereabouts, with a face as comfortable as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the house, and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable possessions.”

What happened afterwards is another story.  Many other incidents occurred at Eatanswill during the Pickwickians’ stay there, the narration of which is not our purpose in these pages.  One, however, led Sam and his master hurriedly to leave the town on a certain morning in pursuit of Alfred Jingle, who had put in an appearance at Mrs. Leo Hunter’s fancy-dress fete, and on seeing Mr. Pickwick there, had as quickly left if as he had entered it.  Mr. Pickwick, on enquiry, discovering that Alfred Jingle, alias Charles Fitz Marshall, was residing at the “Angel,” Bury, set off in hot haste to hunt him down, determined to prevent him from deceiving anyone else as he had deceived him; and so we follow him in the next chapter.

CHAPTER VIII

THE “ANGEL,” BURY ST. EDMUNDS

“Beg your pardon, sir, is this Bury St. Edmunds?”

The words were addressed by Sam Weller to Mr. Pickwick as the two sat on top of a coach as it “rattled through the well-paved streets of a handsome little town, of thriving appearance.”  Eventually stopping before “a large inn situated in a wide street, nearly facing the old Abbey,” Mr. Pickwick, looking up, added, “’and this is the “Angel.”  We alight here, Sam.  But some caution is necessary.  Order a private room, and do not mention my name.  You understand?’

“‘Right as a trivet, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller, with a wink of intelligence; and having dragged Mr. Pickwick’s portmanteau from the hind boot, into which it had been hastily thrown when they joined the coach at Eatanswill, Mr. Weller disappeared on his errand.  A private room was speedily engaged; and into it Mr. Pickwick was ushered without delay.”  Having been settled comfortably therein, partaken of dinner and listened to Sam’s philosophy about a good night’s rest, he allowed that worthy to go and “worm ev’ry secret out o’ the boots’ heart” regarding the whereabouts of Fitz Marshall, as he assured Mr. Pickwick he could do in five minutes.  As good as his word he returned with his information that the gentleman in question also had a private room in the “Angel,” but was dining out that night and had taken his servant with him.  It was accordingly arranged that Sam should have a talk with the said servant in the morning with a view of learning what he could about his master’s plans.