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IN WHICH Mr.SAMUEL WELLER BEGINS TO DEVOTE HIS ENERGIES.
TO THE RETURN MATCH BETWEEN HIMSELF AND Mr.TROTTER In a small room in the vicinity of the stableyard, betimes in the morning, which was ushered in by Mr.Pickwick's adventure with the middle--aged lady in the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr.Weller, senior, preparing himself for his journey to London.

He was sitting in an excellent attitude for having his portrait taken; and here it is.
It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr.
Weller's profile might have presented a bold and determined outline.

His face, however, had expanded under the influence of good living, and a disposition remarkable for resignation; and its bold, fleshy curves had so far extended beyond the limits originally assigned them, that unless you took a full view of his countenance in front, it was difficult to distinguish more than the extreme tip of a very rubicund nose.

His chin, from the same cause, had acquired the grave and imposing form which is generally described by prefixing the word 'double' to that expressive feature; and his complexion exhibited that peculiarly mottled combination of colours which is only to be seen in gentlemen of his profession, and in underdone roast beef.