The shaft had reached him, penetrated through his philosophical harness, to his very heart.

In the frenzy of his rage, he hurled the inkstand madly forward, and followed it up himself.

But Mr.
Jingle had disappeared, and he found himself caught in the arms of Sam.
'Hollo,' said that eccentric functionary, 'furniter's cheap where you come from, Sir.

Self-acting ink, that 'ere; it's wrote your mark upon the wall, old gen'l'm'n.

Hold still, Sir; wot's the use o' runnin' arter a man as has made his lucky, and got to t'other end of the Borough by this time ?' Mr.Pickwick's mind, like those of all truly great men, was open to conviction.