“Hold him tight,” shouted Mr. Snodgrass; and by the united efforts of the whole company, Mr. Pickwick was forced into an armchair.

“Leave him alone,” said the green-coated stranger; “brandy-and-water⁠—jolly old gentleman⁠—lots of pluck⁠—swallow this⁠—ah!⁠—capital stuff.” Having previously tested the virtues of a bumper, which had been mixed by the dismal man, the stranger applied the glass to Mr. Pickwick’s mouth; and the remainder of its contents rapidly disappeared.

There was a short pause; the brandy-and-water had done its work; the amiable countenance of Mr. Pickwick was fast recovering its customary expression.

“They are not worth your notice,” said the dismal man.