My idea, my dear Sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine,
you can't walk half a dozen yards up the street, without
encountering half a dozen green parasols.'
Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which
was only checked by the entrance of a third party.
This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined
to baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended
with a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a
long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab
trousers. A double eyeglass dangled at his waistcoat; and on his
head he wore a very low-crowned hat with a broad brim.
The new-comer was introduced to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott,
the editor of the Eatanswill GAZETTE. After a few preliminary
remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with
solemnity--
'This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?'
'I believe it does,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'To which I have reason to know,' said Pott, looking towards
Mr. Perker for corroboration--'to which I have reason to know
that my article of last Saturday in some degree contributed.'
'Not the least doubt of it,' said the little man.
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