seven o’clock P.M
There was one young gentleman in an India-rubber cloak , who smoked cigars all day ; and there was another young gentleman in a parody upon a greatcoat , who lighted a good many , and feeling obviously unsettled after the second whiff , threw them away when he thought nobody was looking at him . There was a third young man on the box who wished to be learned in cattle ; and an old one behind , who was familiar with farming . There was a constant succession of Christian names in smock-frocks and white coats , who were invited to have a ` lift ' by the guard , and who knew every horse and hostler on the road and off it ; and there was a dinner which would have been cheap at half-a-crown a mouth , if any moderate number of mouths could have eaten it in the time . And at seven o'clock P.M. . Mr. Pickwick and his friends , and Mr. Dowler and his wife , respectively retired to their private sitting-rooms at the White Hart Hotel , opposite the Great Pump Room , Bath , where the waiters , from their costume , might be mistaken for Westminster boys , only they destroy the illusion by behaving themselves much better . Breakfast had scarcely been cleared away on the succeeding morning , when a waiter brought in Mr. Dowler 's card , with a request to be allowed permission to introduce a friend . Mr. Dowler at once followed up the delivery of the card , by bringing himself and the friend also .