Horatio Fizkin, and the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, with their hands upon their hearts, were bowing with the utmost affability to the troubled sea of heads that inundated the open space in front; and from whence arose a storm of groans, and shouts, and yells, and hootings, that would have done honour to an earthquake.

“There’s Winkle,” said Mr. Tupman, pulling his friend by the sleeve.

“Where!” said Mr. Pickwick, putting on his spectacles, which he had fortunately kept in his pocket hitherto.