Continuing their journey the animated party reached in course of time the “Hop Pole” at Tewkesbury, where they stopped to dine; upon which occasion, we are assured, there was more bottled ale, with some more Madeira, and some port besides; and here the case-bottle was replenished for the fourth time.  Under the influence of these combined stimulants, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen fell fast asleep for thirty miles, while Bob Sawyer and Sam Weller sang duets in the dickey.

The “Hop Pole” is still a flourishing country inn with the old-world flavour and atmosphere still clinging to it, where one is treated with the courtesy and welcome reminiscent of the old-time coaching days.  Some modern “improvements” have been made in it, but its general appearance has not been tampered with, and it remains a veritable Dickens landmark of the town which the Tewkesbury Dickensians are proud of possessing.  It is practically as it was in Pickwickian days, and the fact that Mr. Pickwick dined there is boldly announced at the side of the entrance, the porch of which did not however exist in those days.

From the “Hop Pole,” Tewkesbury, the lively quartette continued their journey to Birmingham in a high-spirited mood and reached that city after dark.

“The postboy was driving briskly through the open streets and past the handsome and well-lighted shops which intervene between the outskirts of the town and the Royal Hotel, before Mr. Pickwick had begun to consider the very difficult and delicate nature of the commission which had carried him thither.”

The difficulty and delicacy mentioned referred to the presence of Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen, whom Mr. Pickwick for certain reasons wished miles away, but he hoped to surmount them by making his interview with Mr. Winkle, senior, as brief as possible.

[illustration:  The “Hop Pole,” Tewkeabury, as it was in Pickwickian days.  Drawn by Arch.  Webb]

As he comforted himself with these reflections the chaise stopped at the door of the “Old Royal,” and the visitors were shown to comfortable apartments.  Mr. Pickwick immediately made enquiries of the waiter concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Winkle’s residence, who was one not easily to be got the better of, as the following dialogue will show: 

“‘Close by, sir,’ said the waiter, ’not above five hundred yards, sir.  Mr. Winkle is a wharfinger, sir, at the canal, sir.  Private residence is not—­oh dear no, sir, not five hundred yards, sir.’  Here the waiter blew a candle out and made a feint of lighting it again, in order to afford Mr. Pickwick an opportunity of asking any further questions, if he felt so disposed.

“‘Take anything now, sir?’ said the waiter, lighting the candle in desperation at Mr. Pickwick’s silence.  ’Tea or coffee, sir?  Dinner, sir?’

“‘Nothing now.’

“‘Very good, sir.  Like to order supper, sir?’

“‘Not just now.’