valet »Good night.«
    »Good night, sir,« replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got outside the
door - shook his head - walked on - stopped - snuffed the candle - shook his
head again - and finally proceeded slowly to his chamber, apparently buried in
the profoundest meditation.
 

                                 Chapter XXIII

  In Which Mr. Samuel Weller Begins to Devote His Energies to the Return Match
                        between Himself and Mr. Trotter.

In a small room in the vicinity of the stable-yard, betimes in the morning,
which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick's adventure with the middle-aged lady in
the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr. Weller senior, preparing himself for his journey
to London. He was sitting in an excellent attitude for having his portrait
taken.
    It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr. Weller's
profile might have presented a bold and determined outline. His face, however,
had expanded under the influence of good living, and a disposition remarkable
for resignation; and its bold fleshy curves had so far extended beyond the
limits originally assigned them, that unless you took a full view of his
countenance in front, it was difficult to distinguish more than the extreme tip
of a very rubicund nose. His chin, from the same cause, had acquired the grave
and imposing form which is generally described by prefixing the word double to
that expressive feature; and his complexion exhibited that peculiarly mottled
combination of colours which is only to be seen in gentlemen of his profession,
and in underdone roast beef. Round his neck he wore a crimson travelling shawl,
which merged into his chin by such imperceptible gradations, that it was
difficult to distinguish the folds of the one, from the folds of the other. Over
this, he mounted a long waistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern, and over that
again, a wide-skirted green coat, ornamented with large brass buttons, whereof
the two which garnished the waist, were so far apart, that no man had ever
beheld them both, at the same time. His hair, which was short, sleek, and black,
was just visible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crowned brown hat. His legs
were encased in knee-cord breeches, and painted top-boots: and a copper
watch-chain, terminating in one seal, and a key of the same material, dangled
loosely from his capacious waistband.
    We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for his journey to
London - he was taking sustenance, in fact. On