In Which A Gentleman Of Our Acquaintance Makes An Unexpected Appearance

Gathered together at The Saracen's Head to mark with grace and solemnity the passing of their dear departed friend Mr Bradley Headstone, the United Bulldogs were outnumbered by a mob of thirsty revellers, who had elected to participate in the sombre occasion on the expectation of free liquor with the possibility of a free-for-all thrown in for good measure. The bar of the tavern - once the calm refuge of the weary traveller - was now crammed with men and filled with a deafening noise of oaths, shouts, screams, hootings; changed all at once into a bear-garden, a madhouse, an infernal temple. Men darting in and out, by door and window, drinking from flagons and from flasks, from jugs and from bottles, even from the taps of the casks, from which flowed catarachs of wine and ale.

From the safety of his vantage point sitting astride one such cask, Mr Swiveller - swigging occasionally from a black bottle of porter - was able to survey the hurly-burly without the inconvenience of being required to participate in it, much as a general will look on a battle from the safety of higher ground. More men still - swarming on like insects - new faces and figures presenting themselves every instant - some yelling, some singing, some fighting, some breaking glass and crockery, some armed with pokers, some with clubs, some with the legs of chairs that they had broken for the purpose of clubbing their fellow man. Just as Mr Swiveller was beginning to fear for his own safety, there rang out a cry and a rapid murmur flowed through the crowd like a swift moving current. Like the sea that was parted by Moses, a path appeared between the men and along it approached a figure, who, coming to a halt at the bar, raised his head and from beneath the wide brim of his hat revealed his pale and ragged face to be none other than that of Mr Bradley Headstone!

In Which Mr Swiveller Keeps An Appointment

When Mr Swiveller arrived at The Saracen's Head at the appointed hour to meet his fellow Bulldogs for the express purpose of toasting the memory of the late lamented Bradley Headstone Esq., he was surprised to find his way to that hostelry impeded by a large multitude. From the appearance of their dress and the manner of their behaviour, Mr Swiveller surmised that - though great in number - these persons were not representative of society as a whole, but rather occupied that portion of it which is sometimes likened to the sediment at the bottom of a glass of ale.

Having occupied its ground, the mob was disinclined to give way, and Mr Swiveller was obliged to force a passage through the heaving ranks at no little inconvenience to his person. By the time he gained the parlour of the tavern  he did not cut a very insinuating figure: his dress was literally crushed  from  head to foot, his hat beaten out of all shape, and his shoes trodden down at heel like slippers. His coat fluttered in strips about him, half his neckerchief was gone, and his shirt was rent to tatters. He was greeted by Mr Tappertit, who presented himself in a remarkably similar state of dishabille and who was moreover begrimed with mud and dust on account of a dispute with a hostler on a question of right of way, which Mr Tappertit had graciously conceded after only a brief exchange of opinion.

The appearance of such a great number of people for the occasion was explained by the production of a handbill, which Mr Tapperit had had printed up and distributed in great haste. The bill proclaimed the intention of the United Bulldogs to raise a glass to the memory of Mr Bradley Headstone and called on all honest patriots to do the same. Although Mr Swiveller applauded the sentiment, he was in some doubt as to whether there were enough casks in the cellar to slake the thirst of the mob, and, more worryingly, who would settle the reckoning.

Which Contains The Minutes Of The Inaugural Meeting Of The United Bulldogs

The first order of business of the committee amalgamated from representatives of The 'Prentice Knights and The Glorious Apollos was to select a name for the newly formed society dedicated to the memory of Mr Bradley Headstone. Someone suggested 'The Society Dedicated To The Memory Of Mr Bradley Headstone', but this was objected to on grounds of length. When its supporters proposed the acrostic SDMMBH as an alternative, this was objected to on grounds of obscurity. Mr Tappertit tabled a motion that the name should reflect the patriotic fervour of the times; which suggestion was greeted with unanimous applause and cheers, and led to calls from the floor for a toast to the monarch, which required the charging of glasses and the singing of the national anthem, which demanded that every member get to his feet, which naturally occasioned considerable disruption to the smooth running of the inaugural meeting.

At length, when every flask had been drained of its last drop and the voices of the assembled committee were too hoarse to raise any further objections, it was agreed that the society should adopt the name of The United Bulldogs, and furthermore that special dispensation be granted to every member to exercise the right to refer to the association as The United Bs should the need for either secrecy or brevity require it.

The next order of business was to establish the route of the proposed march through the city, which would enable the Bulldogs to visit as many as possible of the public houses that Mr Headstone had been wont to frequent. The number being a high one, it proved difficult for the assembled company to reach an agreement; particularly as their judgement - which, even at the best of times, was never very sound -  had been considerably impaired by the three hogsheads of wine they had collectively imbibed. As it was getting late and several members were already dozing under the influence of Bacchus (thus rendering their votes invalid), it was agreed that The United Bulldogs should reconvene on the morrow at The Saracen's Head, and from that spot determine their next steps. With which resolution, Mr Swiveller declared the meeting at an end; whereupon he lowered his head upon the table top, and fell into a deep sleep from which he refused to be roused until morning.

In Which A Committee Is Convened To Very Little Purpose

It having been decided by both democratic and pugilistic means that a gathering of the members of the 'Prentice Knights and the Glorious Apollos should be held to commemorate the memory of the late Mr Bradley Headstone, a committee was at once assembled in order to determine by what means and to what degree and under whose authority the project could proceed. It has been said that a rash decision is invariably a foolish one, and - if this adage is true - then no committee can ever be accused of doltishness.

The first matter of business was to elect a chair, but before this could be resolved to the satisfaction of the convocation, it was necessary to agree on a method for casting the vote. A show of hands was considered too plebeian and threatened to compromise the opinions of the weak by placing them under the disapproving gaze of the strong. A secret ballot was Machiavellian and unpatriotic, and furthermore favoured those who practised the art of penmanship. A round of huzzahs was an imprecise measure of popularity and gave baritones an unfair advantage over trebles. The committee was soon divided into three factions, and their numbers seeming to be perfectly equal, there was little likelihood of an early resolution. 

It transpired, however, that Mr Swiveller had not made up his mind, having been precoccupied with carving his initials into the table top during the length of the debate. It thus fell upon him to show his colours, which he did with much hesitation amidst jeers of derision and cheers of encouragement; and having settled upon the Huzzahs, who now formed a majority, he was promptly elected to the chair, and the true business of the committee was allowed to begin.