Suffocation began; down goes my window.

Presently a sixteen-stone kind of overgrown Pickwickian "Fat Boy," sitting opposite me, exclaims aloud, with a polar shudder, "Ugh! it's very cold!" and finding I was inattentive, he added, "Don't you find it very cold ?" "Me, sir?
I'm nearly fainting from heat," I replied; and then, in charity, I lent him a heavy full-sized Inverness plaid, in which he speedily enveloped his fat carcass.

What with the plaids, and his five inches deep of fat, his bones must have been in a vapour bath.

The other _vis-a-vis_ was a source of uneasiness to me on a different score.

He kept up a perpetual expectorating discharge; and, as my open window was the only outlet, and it did not come that way, I naturally felt anxious for my clothes.