'The second of them four little houses, one story high, with the green shutters.

There's brass plate on the door, with the name of Snawley.' 'Couldn't you say that without wrenching a man's limbs off his body ?' inquired the coachman.
'No!' bawled Mr Squeers.

'Say another word, and I'll summons you for having a broken winder.

Stop!' Obedient to this direction, the coach stopped at Mr Snawley's door.
Mr Snawley may be remembered as the sleek and sanctified gentleman who confided two sons (in law) to the parental care of Mr Squeers, as narrated in the fourth chapter of this history.

Mr Snawley's house was on the extreme borders of some new settlements adjoining Somers Town, and Mr Squeers had taken lodgings therein for a short time, as his stay was longer than usual, and the Saracen, having experience of Master Wackford's appetite, had declined to receive him on any other terms than as a full-grown customer.
'Here we are!' said Squeers, hurrying Smike into the little parlour, where Mr Snawley and his wife were taking a lobster supper.