attempts on the lips
of one of the maids; and when Mr. Pickwick and his friends called on Mr.
Winkle, sen., at Birmingham, Bob Sawyer made similar playful
efforts--being called an "odous creetur" by the lady. In fact, the
custom seemed to be to kiss when and wherever you could conveniently.
Getting drunk after any drinking, and at any time of the day, seemed to
be common enough. There was a vast amount of open fields, &c., about
London which engendered the "Cockney sportsman." He disappeared as the
fields were built over. We have no longer the peculiar "stand-up"
collars, or "gills," and check neck-cloths.

But Mr. Bantam's costume at the Bath Assembly, shows the most startling
change. Where is now the "gold eye glass?"--we know that eye glass,
which was of a solid sort, not fixed on the nose, but held to the eye--a
"quizzing glass," and folding up on a hinge--"a broad black ribbon" too;
the "gold snuffbox;" gold rings "innumerable" on the fingers, and "a
diamond pin" on his "shirt frill," a "curb chain" with large gold seals
hanging from his waistcoat--(a "curb chain" proper was then a little thin
chain finely wrought, of very close links.) Then there was the "pliant
ebony cane, with a heavy gold top." Ebony, however, is not pliant, but
the reverse--black was the word intended. Then those "smalls" and
stockings to match. Mr. Pickwick, a privileged man, appeared on this
occasion, indeed always, in his favourite white breeches and gaiters. In
fact, on no occasion save one, when he wore a great-coat, does he appear
without them. Bantam's snuff was "Prince's mixture," so named after the
Regent, and his scent "_Bouquet du Roi_." "Prince's mixture" is still
made, but "_Bouquet du Roi_" is supplanted.

Perker's dress is also that of the stage attorney, as we have him now,
and recognize him. He would not be the attorney without that dress. He
was "all in black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, _a low white
neckcloth_, and a _clean_ shirt with a frill to it." This, of course,
meant that he put on one every day, and is yet a slight point of contact
with Johnson, who described someone as being only able to go out "on
clean shirt days;" a gold watch and seals depended from his _Fob_.
"Depended" is a curious use of the word, and quite gone out.

Another startling change is in the matter of duels. The duels in
Pickwick come about quite as a matter of course, and as a common social
incident. In the "forties" I reca