The servants of the attendants who were in waiting for their masters, had a room appropriated to their use.

One of these latter gentry, no other than Gloss'em's servant, being anxious to have as near a view of the sacred person of his Majesty as his employer, had placed himself in a good situation at the door, in order to witness his departure, when a Mr.
Winpebble, of mismanaging notoriety, and also a ponderous puff, assuming managerial authority, espying him, desired the police-officers and guards in attendance to turn out the lamp-lighter's boy, pointing to Gloss'em's servant.

This, it seems, was no sooner said than done, at the point of the bayonet.

Some little scuffle ensued--His Majesty and suite departed--Hold up your arm, Sir." "But did the matter end there ?" enquired Dashall.
"O dear, no--not exactly." "Because if it did," continued Tom, "in my opinion, it began with a wax taper, and ended in the smoke of a farthing rushlight.

You have made it appear to be a gas-receiver without supplies." "I beg pardon," said Mr.W.; "the pipes are full, but the gas is not yet turned on." This created a laugh, and Mr.W.proceeded:-- "The next day, the servant having informed his Master of the treatment he had received, a gentleman was dispatched from Gloss'em to Winpebble, to demand an apology: which being refused, the former, with a large horsewhip under his arm, accosted the latter, and handsomely belaboured his shoulders with lusty stripes.