Mr.Grummer, in the then disturbed state of public feeling (for it was half-holiday, and the boys had not yet gone home), as resolutely protested against walking on the opposite side of the way, and taking Mr.Pickwick's parole that he would go straight to the magistrate's; and both Mr.Pickwick and Mr.Tupman as strenuously objected to the expense of a post-coach, which was the only respectable conveyance that could be obtained.

The dispute ran high, and the dilemma lasted long; and just as the executive were on the point of overcoming Mr.Pickwick's objection to walking to the magistrate's, by the trite expedient of carrying him thither, it was recollected that there stood in the inn yard, an old sedan-chair, which, having been originally built for a gouty gentleman with funded property, would hold Mr.Pickwick and Mr.Tupman, at least as conveniently as a modern post-chaise.

The chair was hired, and brought into the hall; Mr.Pickwick and Mr.Tupman squeezed themselves inside, and pulled down the blinds; a couple of chairmen were speedily found; and the procession started in grand order.
The specials surrounded the body of the vehicle; Mr.Grummer and Mr.
Dubbley marched triumphantly in front; Mr.Snodgrass and Mr.Winkle walked arm-in-arm behind; and the unsoaped of Ipswich brought up the rear.
The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very indistinct notion of the nature of the offence, could not but be much edified and gratified by this spectacle.

Here was the strong arm of the law, coming down with twenty gold-beater force, upon two offenders from the metropolis itself; the mighty engine was directed by their own magistrate, and worked by their own officers; and both the criminals, by their united efforts, were securely shut up, in the narrow compass of one sedan-chair.

Many were the expressions of approval and admiration which greeted Mr.Grummer, as he headed the cavalcade, staff in hand; loud and long were the shouts raised by the unsoaped; and amidst these united testimonials of public approbation, the procession moved slowly and majestically along.
Mr.Weller, habited in his morning jacket, with the black calico sleeves, was returning in a rather desponding state from an unsuccessful survey of the mysterious house with the green gate, when, raising his eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the street, surrounding an object which had very much the appearance of a sedan-chair.