Watch-guards and toasting-forks were alike at a discount, and pencil-cases and sponges were a drug in the market.
Leaving Sam Weller to rescue the luggage from the seven or eight porters who flung themselves savagely upon it, the moment the coach stopped, and finding that they were about twenty minutes too early, Mr.Pickwick and his friends went for shelter into the travellers' room--the last resource of human dejection.
The travellers' room at the White Horse Cellar is of course uncomfortable; it would be no travellers' room if it were not.

It is the right-hand parlour, into which an aspiring kitchen fireplace appears to have walked, accompanied by a rebellious poker, tongs, and shovel.

It is divided into boxes, for the solitary confinement of travellers, and is furnished with a clock, a looking-glass, and a live waiter, which latter article is kept in a small kennel for washing glasses, in a corner of the apartment.
One of these boxes was occupied, on this particular occasion, by a stern-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had a bald and glossy forehead, with a good deal of black hair at the sides and back of his head, and large black whiskers.

He was buttoned up to the chin in a brown coat; and had a large sealskin travelling-cap, and a greatcoat and cloak, lying on the seat beside him.

He looked up from his breakfast as Mr.Pickwick entered, with a fierce and peremptory air, which was very dignified; and, having scrutinised that gentleman and his companions to his entire satisfaction, hummed a tune, in a manner which seemed to say that he rather suspected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, but it wouldn't do.
'Waiter,' said the gentleman with the whiskers.
'Sir ?' replied a man with a dirty complexion, and a towel of the same, emerging from the kennel before mentioned.
'Some more toast.' 'Yes, sir.' 'Buttered toast, mind,' said the gentleman fiercely.
'Directly, sir,' replied the waiter.
The gentleman with the whiskers hummed a tune in the same manner as before, and pending the arrival of the toast, advanced to the front of the fire, and, taking his coat tails under his arms, looked at his boots and ruminated.
'I wonder whereabouts in Bath this coach puts up,' said Mr.Pickwick, mildly addressing Mr.Winkle.
'Hum--eh--what's that ?' said the strange man.
'I made an observation to my friend, sir,' replied Mr.Pickwick, always ready to enter into conversation.