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The Pickwick Papers 23

Elisha Cuthbert Photos


Martin Eden

The Pickwick Papers

The Sea Wolf

unbounded. Can anything be finer or more delightful? he inquired of Mr. Winkle. Nothing, replied that gentleman, who had had a short man standing on each of his feet for the quarter of an hour immediately preceding. It is indeed a noble and a brilliant sight, said Mr. Snodgrass, in whose bosom a blaze of poetry was rapidly bursting forth, to see the gallant defenders of their country drawn up in brilliant array before its peaceful citizens; their faces beaming--not with warlike ferocity, but with civilised gentleness; their eyes flashing --not with the rude fire of rapine or revenge, but with the soft light of humanity and intelligence. Mr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirit of this eulogium, but he could not exactly re-echo its terms; for the soft light of intelligence burned rather feebly in the eyes of the warriors, inasmuch as the command eyes front had been given, and all the spectator saw before him was several thousand pair of optics, staring straight forward, wholly divested of any expression whatever. We are in a capital situation now, said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him. The crowd had gradually dispersed in their immediate vicinity, and they were nearly alone. Capital! echoed both Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle. What are they doing now? inquired Mr. Pickwick, adjusting his spectacles. I--I--rather think, said Mr. Winkle, changing colour--I rather think theyre going to fire. Nonsense, said Mr. Pickwick hastily. I--I--really think they are, urged Mr. Snodgrass, somewhat alarmed. Impossible, replied Mr. Pickwick. He had hardly uttered the word, when the whole half-dozen regiments levelled their muskets as if they had but one common object, and that object the Pickwickians, and burst forth with the most awful and tremendous discharge that ever shook the earth to its centres, or an elderly gentleman off his. It was in this trying situation, exposed to a galling fire of blank cartridges, and harassed by the operations of the military, a fresh body of whom had begun to fall in on the opposite side, that Mr. Pickwick displayed that perfect coolness and self-possession, which are the indispensable accompaniments of a great mind. He seized Mr. Winkle by the arm, and placing himself between that gentleman and Mr. Snodgrass, earnestly besought them to remember that beyond the possibility of being rendered deaf by the noise, there was no immediate danger to be apprehended from the firing. But--but--suppose some of the men should happen to have ball cartridges by mistake, remonstrated Mr. Winkle, pallid at the supposition he was himself conjuring up. I heard something whistle through the air now--so sharp; close to my ear. We had better throw ourselves on our faces, hadnt we? said Mr. Snodgrass. No, no--its over now, said Mr. Pickwick. His lip might quiver, and his cheek might blanch, but no expression of fear or concern escaped the lips of that immortal man. Mr. Pickwick was right--the firing ceased; but he had scarcely time to congratulate himself on the accuracy of his opinion, when a quick movement was visible in the line; the hoarse shout of the word of command ran along it, and before either of the party could form a guess at the meaning of this new manoeuvre, the whole of the half-dozen regiments, with fixed bayonets, charged at double-quick time down upon the very spot on which Mr. Pickwick and his friends were stationed. Man is but mortal; and there is a point beyond which human courage cannot extend. Mr. Pickwick gazed through his spectacles for an instant on the advancing mass, and then fairly turned his back and--we will not say fled; firstly, because it is an ignoble term, and, secondly, because Mr. Pickwicks figure was by no means adapted for that mode of retreat--he trotted away, at as quick a rate as his legs would convey him; so quickly, indeed, that he did not perceive the awkwardness of his situation, to the full extent, until too late. The opposite troops, whose falling-in had perplexed Mr. Pickwick a few seconds before, were drawn up to repel the mimic attack of the sham besiegers of the citadel; and the consequence was that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions found themselves suddenly inclosed between two lines of great length, the one advancing at a rapid pace, and the other firmly waiting the collision in hostile array. Hoi! shouted the officers of the advancing line. Get out of the way! cried the officers of the stationary one. Where are we to go to? screamed the agitated Pickwickians. Hoi--hoi--hoi! was the only reply. There was a moment of intense bewilderment, a heavy tramp of footsteps, a violent concussion, a smothered laugh; the

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