“Lived for three weeks upon a pair of boots, and a silk umbrella with an ivory handle!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had only heard of such things in shipwrecks or read of them in Constable’s Miscellany .

“True,” said Jingle, nodding his head. “Pawnbroker’s shop⁠—duplicates here⁠—small sums⁠—mere nothing⁠—all rascals.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Pickwick, much relieved by this explanation; “I understand you. You have pawned your wardrobe.”

“Everything⁠—Job’s too⁠—all shirts gone⁠—never mind⁠—saves washing. Nothing soon⁠—lie in bed⁠—starve⁠—die⁠—inquest⁠—little bone-house⁠—poor prisoner⁠—common necessaries⁠—hush it up⁠—gentlemen of the jury⁠—warden’s tradesmen⁠—keep it snug⁠—natural death⁠—coroner’s order⁠—workhouse funeral⁠—serve him right⁠—all over⁠—drop the curtain.”