The fat boy rose, opened his eyes, swallowed the huge piece of pie he had been in the act of masticating when he last fell asleep, and slowly obeyed his master’s orders⁠—gloating languidly over the remains of the feast, as he removed the plates, and deposited them in the hamper. The fresh bottle was produced, and speedily emptied: the hamper was made fast in its old place⁠—the fat boy once more mounted the box⁠—the spectacles and pocket-glass were again adjusted⁠—and the evolutions of the military recommenced. There was a great fizzing and banging of guns, and starting of ladies⁠—and then a mine was sprung, to the gratification of everybody⁠—and when the mine had gone off, the military and the company followed its example, and went off too.

“Now, mind,” said the old gentleman, as he shook hands with Mr. Pickwick at the conclusion of a conversation which had been carried on at intervals, during the conclusion of the proceedings, “we shall see you all tomorrow.”