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What befell Mr. Pickwick when he got into the Fleet; what Prisoners he saw there; and how he passed

           OnhisheadheworeoneofthecommoneighteenpennyFrenchskull-caps,withagaudytasseldanglingtherefrom,veryhappilyinkeepingwithacommonfustiancoat.Hislegs,which,beinglong,wereafflictedwithweakness,gracedapairofOxford-mixturetrousers,madetoshowthefullsymmetryofthoselimbs.Beingsomewhatnegligentlybraced,however,and,moreover,butimperfectlybuttoned,theyfellinaseriesofnotthemostgracefulfoldsoverapairofshoessufficientlydownatheeltodisplayapairofverysoiledwhitestockings.Therewasarakish,vagabondsmartness,andakindofboastfulrascality,aboutthewholeman,thatwasworthamineofgold.

           ThisfigurewasthefirsttoperceivethatMr.Pickwickwaslookingon;uponwhichhewinkedtotheZephyr,andentreatedhim,withmockgravity,nottowakethegentleman.‘Why,blessthegentleman’shonestheartandsoul!’saidtheZephyr,turningroundandaffectingtheextremityofsurprise;‘thegentlemanisawake.Hem,Shakespeare!Howdoyoudo,Sir?HowisMaryandSarah,sir?andthedearoldladyathome,Sir?Willyouhavethekindnesstoputmycomplimentsintothefirstlittleparcelyou’resendingthatway,sir,andsaythatIwouldhavesent’embefore,onlyIwasafraidtheymightbebrokeninthewagon,sir?’

           ‘Don’toverwhelmthegentlemenwithordinarycivilitieswhenyouseehe’sanxioustohavesomethingtodrink,’saidthegentlemanwiththewhiskers,withajocoseair.

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