In Which Mr Headstone Bids Farewell To His Friends

Having determined to quit the metropolis for a sojourn in the country, Mr Headstone felt it incumbent upon himself to inform those whose company he regularly kept of his forthcoming absence lest they think he had been murdered in his bed or had enlisted into the regiment's service. He accordingly made straight for The George and Vulture, where he could be confident of finding some of his friends at breakfast. It being very early in the morning, the pedagogue was obliged to wait in the street for an hour before the landlord opened the doors, which time he profitably spent carving his initials into the pump across the way and pitching pebbles into the gutter. Once admitted he was again compelled to tarry until such customers that were among those of his acquaintance presented themselves at the bar.

If time can be measured in portions of liquor, then it was no longer than two pennyworth of brandy before Mr Dick Swiveller entered the establishment amidst a cloud of tobacco smoke and called for a tumbler of cold gin-and-water. He was shortly joined by Mr Fred Trent, who asked for a glass of the same, and these two worthy gentlemen joined Mr Headstone in their first - but certainly not their last - libation of the day. Being informed of the pedagogue's resolution to quit town, Mr Swiveller declared that he would not allow his friend to depart without a proper send-off, and to this end he proposed that they repair immediately to The Lamb and Flag, where they would be sure to find Mr Jingle. In this supposition Mr Swiveller was proved correct, and indeed in each subsequent prediction he made regarding the current whereabouts of a member of their company, the gentleman exhibited the powers of prognostication of an augury. Mr Tappertit was at The Grenadier, Mr Guppy was conning a bill from Chancery at The Old Mitre, Mr Folair was in The Coal Hole with his fellow thespians, and Mr Mantalini was being dazzled by the beauty of the barmaid at The George Inn. Once assembled, this motley crew drank a toast to Mr Headstone's venture and sent the pedagogue on his way, which, under the influence of brandy and porter, had now become a route of a peculiarly circuitous nature.