Pickwick felt emboldened to renew the conversation; at
length, as the editor's countenance gradually relaxed into its
customary expression of moral supremacy, he ventured to
resume the discourse by asking--
'Is it fair to inquire what great object has brought you so far
from home?'
'That object which actuates and animates me in all my gigantic
labours, Sir,' replied Pott, with a calm smile: 'my country's good.'
'I supposed it was some public mission,' observed Mr. Pickwick.
'Yes, Sir,' resumed Pott, 'it is.' Here, bending towards Mr.
Pickwick, he whispered in a deep, hollow voice, 'A Buff ball, Sir,
will take place in Birmingham to-morrow evening.'
'God bless me!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
'Yes, Sir, and supper,' added Pott.
'You don't say so!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick.
Pott nodded portentously.
Now, although Mr. Pickwick feigned to stand aghast at this
disclosure, he was so little versed in local politics that he was
unable to form an adequate comprehension of the importance of
the dire conspiracy it referred to; observing which, Mr. Pott,
drawing forth the last number of the Eatanswill GAZETTE, and
referring to the same, delivered himself of the following paragraph:--
HOLE-AND-CORNER BUFFERY.
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