I choose to conceal the name of the street in which the Magpie and Punchbowl was situated, for very obvious reasons; but it may not be improper to hint that the house to which that not unfrequent but, I cannot help thinking, remarkable, sign belonged, was so located that a stone’s throw, in the right direction, whether from Paul’s chain or Knight Rider street, must inevitably have broken the Punchbowl, or knocked the Magpie on the head; or, in plain language, the house was equi-distant from, and contiguous to, these two points. A very feeble glimmer made itself visible at the bar window, and the half obliterated chequers188 on the door-posts emphatically announced that the jovial crew which had been once accustomed to lend original brilliance to the parlour had departed – some perhaps to a more congenial Hole in the Wall, others probably to a less congenial hole in the earth; all, however, from the Magpie and Punchbowl.