The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club

how Mr. Pickwick undertook to drive, and M

kwick leaned over the balustrades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and waiting for breakfast. The sce

ng away, but telling us proudly of its old might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. On either side, the banks of the Medway, covered with cornfields and pastures, with here and there a windmill, or a distant church, stretched away as far as the eye could see, presenting a rich and varied landscape, render

d been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch o

inquired the dismal man.

ing yourself on

ick nodde

endour, for his brightness seldom lasts the day through. The

ly, sir,’ said

.” How well might it be applied to our everyday existence. God! what would I forfei

uble, sir,’ said Mr. Pi

re than those who see me now would believe possible.

a morning as this, that drownin

the balustrade, as the possibility of the dismal man’s tipping

brief struggle; there is an eddy for an instant, it gradually subsides into a gentle ripple; the waters have closed above your head, and the world has closed upon your miserie

d me to read that paper, the night before last, and listened attentively

instruction. Suppose I forward you a curious manuscript — observe, not curious because wild or improbable, but curious

dismal man. ‘Your address;’ and, Mr. Pickwick having communicated their probable route, the dismal man carefully noted it down in a gre

ready laid in tempting display. They sat down to the meal; and broiled ham, eggs, tea, coffee and sundries, began to d

rm,’ said Mr. Pickwi

perhaps,’ said Mr. Tupman; and th

ifteen miles, gentlemen — cr

hold more than two,

e, sir — seat for two behind — one in front for the gentleman t

done?’ said

e waiter, looking towards Mr. Winkle; ‘very good saddle-horses, sir

r. Pickwick. ‘Winkle, wi

but, as he would not have them even suspected, on any account, he at once replied with great hardihood, ‘Certainly. I should enjoy

sir,’ replie

s ascended to their respective bedrooms, to prepare a change o

passengers in the street, when the waiter entered, and announced that the chaise was ready — an announc

for one in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, displaying great symmetry of bone. An hostler stood near, holding by

n the pavement while the coats were being put in. ‘Bl

course,’ sa

,’ said Mr

aimed Mr.

sed the hostler. ‘Warrant him quiet, S

does he?’ inqui

was to meet a vagin-load of mon

got into the bin; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his perch, and deposited h

s.’ ‘Shiny Villiam’— so called, probably, from his sleek hair and oily countenance — placed

oed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass, from the bin. ‘Only his playfulness, gen’lm’n,’ said the head hostler encouragingly; ‘jist kit

de, sir, if

on the wrong side,’ whispered a grinning pos

with about as much difficulty as he would have experie

ckwick, with an inward prese

replied Mr. W

and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pickwick on the box of the one, and Mr. Winkle

said Mr. Snodgrass in the bi

the street in the most mysterious manner — side first, with his

tander, but by no means equally amusing to any one seated behind him. Besides constantly jerking his head up, in a very unpleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging at the reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great difficulty

nodgrass, when the horse had executed

e shying, don’t it?’ Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply,

aking all over, as if he would shake to pieces, with the violence of the exercise, ‘pick up the whip, there’s a good fellow.’ Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the tall ho

could perform the journey as much to his own satisfaction without a rider as with one, are points upon which, of course, we can arrive at no definite and distinct conclusion. By wh

nd, notwithstanding all kinds of coaxing and wheedling, there were Mr. Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten minutes, at the end of which time each was at precisely the

he dodging had been prolonged for a considerab

we come to a turnpike,’ replie

roared Mr. Winkle. ‘D

g descended from his seat, carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest anything should come along the road, an

er quicker rate than fast walking, in the direction from which they had just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his assistance, but the faster Mr. Pickwick ran forward, the faster the horse ran backward. There was a great scraping of feet, and kicking up of the dust; and at last Mr. Winkle, his arms being nearly pulled

agonised Mr. Pickwick; ‘there’s

r. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the four-wheeled chaise. The heat was a short one. Mr. Tupman threw himself into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass followed his example, the horse dashed t

ion of discovering that they had sustained no injury, beyond sundry rents in their garments, and various lacerations from the brambles. The next thing to be done was to

front; one or two deformed hay-ricks behind, a kitchen garden at the side, and rotten sheds and mouldering outhouses jumbled in s

his eyes with his hand, and stared, long an

!’ repeated

the red-heade

s it to Di

er sev

a goo

he red-headed man resumed his work. ‘We want to put this horse up here,’ said Mr. Pickwick; ‘I suppose we

, who had by this time advanced,

head, emerging from the garden, and lo

in a coarse, blue pelisse, with the waist an inch

g, and speaking in his most seductive tones. The woman looked very hard a

after a little consider

r. Pickwick, ‘what’s

d the woman, turning into the house;

e ever met with in my life,’ sa

is friends gathered round him, ‘that they think we

a storm of indignation. Mr. Winkl

he angry Mr. Pickwick,‘do y

agitated his countenance from one auricular organ to the other. S

y with a dreadful horse that he can’t get rid of!’ The depressed Pickwickians turned moodily away, with

absurdity of their situation. Torn clothes, lacerated faces, dusty shoes, exhausted looks, and, above all, the horse. Oh, how Mr. Pickwick cursed that horse: he had eyed the noble animal from time to time with looks expressive of hatred and revenge; more than once he had calculated the probable amount of the expense he would

. What! Scratches! Not hurt, I hope — eh? Well, I AM glad to hear that — very. So you’ve been spilt, eh? Never mind. Commo

leman, condoling with his guests in homely phrase on so much of the day’s a

duce you to the people in the parlour. Emma, bring out the cherry brandy; now, Ja

d males rose from their seats in the chimney-corner (for although it was a May evening their attachment to the wood fire appeared as cordial as

of the men suddenly seizing Mr. Pickwick by the leg, at imminent hazard of throwing him off his balance, brushed away at his boot till his corns were red-hot; while the other

y; the ceiling garnished with hams, sides of bacon, and ropes of onions. The walls were decorated with several hunting-whips, two or three bridles, a saddle, and an old rusty blunderbuss, with an inscription below it, intimating that it was ‘Loaded’— as

iringly, when his guests had been wa

eplied Mr.

ined by Mr. Tupman, who had lingered behind to snatch a kiss from Emma, for which he h

t open and stepping forward to announce them, ‘we