There was a christening party at the largest coffin-maker's and a funeral hatchment had stopped some great improvements in the bravest mansion.
Life and death went hand in hand; wealth and poverty stood side by side; repletion and starvation laid them down together.
But it was London; and the old country lady inside, who had put her head out of the coach-window a mile or two this side Kingston, and cried out to the driver that she was sure he must have passed it and forgotten to set her down, was satisfied at last.
Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn where the coach stopped, and repaired, without the delay of another moment, to the lodgings of Newman Noggs; for his anxiety and impatience had increased with every succeeding minute, and were almost beyond control.
There was a fire in Newman's garret; and a candle had been left burning; the floor was cleanly swept, the room was as comfortably arranged as such a room could be, and meat and drink were placed in order upon the table.

Everything bespoke the affectionate care and attention of Newman Noggs, but Newman himself was not there.
'Do you know what time he will be home ?' inquired Nicholas, tapping at the door of Newman's front neighbour.
'Ah, Mr Johnson!' said Crowl, presenting himself.

'Welcome, sir.

How well you're looking! I never could have believed--' 'Pardon me,' interposed Nicholas.

'My question--I am extremely anxious to know.' 'Why, he has a troublesome affair of business,' replied Crowl, 'and will not be home before twelve o'clock.