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In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath; and goes accordingly

           Pickwickundertook,despitealltheprotestationstothecontraryofAngeloBantam,tosendSamforthematfouro’clockintheafternoon,totheM.C.‘shouseinQueenSquare.Havingtakenashortwalkthroughthecity,andarrivedattheunanimousconclusionthatParkStreetwasverymuchliketheperpendicularstreetsamanseesinadream,whichhecannotgetupforthelifeofhim,theyreturnedtotheWhiteHart,anddespatchedSamontheerrandtowhichhismasterhadpledgedhim.

           SamWellerputonhishatinaveryeasyandgracefulmanner,and,thrustinghishandsinhiswaistcoatpockets,walkedwithgreatdeliberationtoQueenSquare,whistlingashewentalong,severalofthemostpopularairsoftheday,asarrangedwithentirelynewmovementsforthatnobleinstrumenttheorgan,eithermouthorbarrel.ArrivingatthenumberinQueenSquaretowhichhehadbeendirected,heleftoffwhistlingandgaveacheerfulknock,whichwasinstantaneouslyansweredbyapowdered-headedfootmaningorgeouslivery,andofsymmetricalstature.

           ‘isthishereMr.Bantam’s,oldfeller?’inquiredSamWeller,nothingabashedbytheblazeofsplendourwhichburstuponhissightinthepersonofthepowdered-headedfootmanwiththegorgeouslivery.

           ‘Why,youngman?’wasthehaughtyinquiryofthepowdered-headedfootman.

           ‘‘Cosifitis,jistyoustepintohimwiththat‘erecard,andsayMr.Veller’sa-waitin’,willyou?’saidSam.

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