Mrs. Pott was in the highest spirits and the most
agreeable humour. Mr. Winkle had already made considerable
progress in her good opinion, and she did not hesitate to inform
him, confidentially, that Mr. Pickwick was 'a delightful old dear.'
These terms convey a familiarity of expression, in which few of
those who were intimately acquainted with that colossal-minded
man, would have presumed to indulge. We have preserved them,
nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and a convincing
proof of the estimation in which he was held by every class of
society, and the case with which he made his way to their hearts
and feelings.
It was a late hour of the night--long after Mr. Tupman and
Mr. Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the
Peacock--when the two friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fell
upon the senses of Mr. Winkle, but his feelings had been excited,
and his admiration roused; and for many hours after sleep had
rendered him insensible to earthly objects, the face and figure of
the agreeable Mrs. Pott presented themselves again and again
to his wandering imagination.
The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning were
sufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary
in existence, any associations but those which were immediately
connected with the rapidly-approaching election.
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