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 butt end of it." He could be as amiable and tender-hearted as "old Sam" himself. Listening to Dowler at the coach office in Piccadilly we—who knew Forster well—seemed to hear his very voice. "It was a stern-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had large black whiskers. He was buttoned up to the chin in a brown coat and had a large seal-skin cap and a cloak beside him. He looked up from his breakfast as Mr. Pickwick entered with a fierce and peremptory air, which was very dignified, and which seemed to say that he rather expected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, but it wouldn't do." "Are you going to Bath?" said the strange man. "I am, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick. "And these other gentleman?" "They are going also," said Mr. Pickwick. "Not inside—I'll be damned if you're going inside," said the strange man. "Not all of us," said Mr. Pickwick. "No—not all of you," said the strange man, emphatically. "We take two places. If they try and squeeze six people