“Here, waiter!” shouted the stranger, ringing the bell with tremendous violence, “glasses round⁠—brandy-and-water, hot and strong, and sweet, and plenty⁠—eye damaged, Sir? Waiter! raw beefsteak for the gentleman’s eye⁠—nothing like raw beefsteak for a bruise, sir; cold lamppost very good, but lamppost inconvenient⁠—damned odd standing in the open street half an hour, with your eye against a lamppost⁠—eh⁠—very good⁠—ha! ha!” And the stranger, without stopping to take breath, swallowed at a draught full half a pint of the reeking brandy-and-water, and flung himself into a chair with as much ease as if nothing uncommon had occurred.

While his three companions were busily engaged in proffering their thanks to their new acquaintance, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to examine his costume and appearance.