which, so long as I live, I have pledged myself to the people of these kingdoms to support and to maintain?" suggested Pott.
"Why, I don't exactly know about that," replied Bob Sawyer. "I am—"
"Not buff, Mr. Pickwick," interrupted Pott, drawing back his chair, "your friend is not buff, sir?"
"No, no," rejoined Bob, "I'm a kind of plaid at present; a compound of all sorts of colours."
"A waverer," said Pott, solemnly, "a waverer. I should like to show you a series of eight articles, sir, that have appeared in the Eatanswill Gazette. I think I may venture to say that you would not be long in establishing your opinions on a firm and solid blue basis, sir."
"I dare say I should turn very blue, long before I got to the end of them," responded Bob.
Mr. Pott looked dubiously at Bob Sawyer for some seconds, and, turning to Mr. Pickwick, said:
"You have seen the literary articles which have appeared at intervals in the Eatanswill Gazette in the course of the last three months, and which have excited such general—I may say such universal—attention and admiration?"
"Why," replied Mr. Pickwick, slightly embarrassed by the question, "the fact is, I have been so much engaged in other ways, that I really have not had an opportunity of perusing them."
"You should do so, sir," said Pott, with a severe countenance.
"I will," said Mr. Pickwick.
"They appeared in the form of a copious review of a work on Chinese metaphysics, sir," said Pott.
"Oh," observed Mr. Pickwick; "from your pen, I hope?
"From the pen of my critic, sir," rejoined Pott with dignity.
"An abstruse subject I should conceive," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Very, sir," responded Pott, looking intensely sage. "He
