WATCH Sexy Elisha Cuthbert In Action  CLICK HERE for Instant Access Elisha Cuthbert Photos |
Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
half-dozen regiments were
half a thousand yards off, and the soles of Mr. Pickwicks boots
were elevated in air.
Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle had each performed a
compulsory somerset with remarkable agility, when the first object
that met the eyes of the latter as he sat on the ground, staunching
with a yellow silk handkerchief the stream of life which issued
from his nose, was his venerated leader at some distance off,
running after his own hat, which was gambolling playfully away
in perspective.
There are very few moments in a mans existence when he
experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little
charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.
A vast deal of coolness, and a peculiar degree of judgment, are
requisite in catching a hat. A man must not be precipitate, or he
runs over it; he must not rush into the opposite extreme, or he
loses it altogether. The best way is to keep gently up with the
object of pursuit, to be wary and cautious, to watch your opportunity
well, get gradually before it, then make a rapid dive, seize it
by the crown, and stick it firmly on your head; smiling pleasantly
all the time, as if you thought it as good a joke as anybody else.
There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr. Pickwicks hat rolled
sportively before it. The wind puffed, and Mr. Pickwick puffed,
and the hat rolled over and over as merrily as a lively porpoise
in a strong tide: and on it might have rolled, far beyond
Mr. Pickwicks reach, had not its course been providentially
stopped, just as that gentleman was on the point of resigning it
to its fate.
Mr. Pickwick, we say, was completely exhausted, and about to
give up the chase, when the hat was blown with some violence
against the wheel of a carriage, which was drawn up in a line with
half a dozen other vehicles on the spot to which his steps had been
directed. Mr. Pickwick, perceiving his advantage, darted briskly
forward, secured his property, planted it on his head, and paused
to take breath. He had not been stationary half a minute, when
he heard his own name eagerly pronounced by a voice, which he
at once recognised as Mr. Tupmans, and, looking upwards, he
beheld a sight which filled him with surprise and pleasure.
in an open barouche, the horses of which had been taken out,
the better to accommodate it to the crowded place, stood a stout
old gentleman, in a blue coat and bright buttons, corduroy
breeches and top-boots, two young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a
young gentleman apparently enamoured of one of the young
ladies in scarfs and feathers, a lady of doubtful age, probably the
aunt of the aforesaid, and Mr. Tupman, as easy and unconcerned
as if he had belonged to the family from the first moments of his
infancy. Fastened up behind the barouche was a hamper of
spacious dimensions--one of those hampers which always
awakens in a contemplative mind associations connected with
cold fowls, tongues, and bottles of wine--and on the box sat a
fat and red-faced boy, in a state of somnolency, whom no
speculative observer could have regarded for an instant without
setting down as the official dispenser of the contents of the
before-mentioned hamper, when the proper time for their
consumption should arrive.
Mr. Pickwick had bestowed a hasty glance on these interesting
objects, when he was again greeted by his faithful disciple.
Pickwick--Pickwick, said Mr. Tupman; come up here. Make haste.
Come along, Sir. Pray, come up, said the stout gentleman.
Joe!--damn that boy, hes gone to sleep again.--Joe, let down
the steps. The fat boy rolled slowly off the box, let down the
steps, and held the carriage door invitingly open. Mr. Snodgrass
and Mr. Winkle came up at the moment.
Room for you all, gentlemen, said the stout man. Two inside,
and one out. Joe, make room for one of these gentlemen on the
box. Now, Sir, come along; and the stout gentleman extended
his arm, and pulled first Mr. Pickwick, and then Mr. Snodgrass,
into the barouche by main force. Mr. Winkle mounted to the
box, the fat boy waddled to the same perch, and fell fast asleep
instantly.
Well, gentlemen, said the stout man, very glad to see you.
Know you very well, gentlemen, though you maynt remember
me. I spent some evnins at your club last winter--picked up my
friend Mr. Tupman The Pickwick Papers page 23 The Pickwick Papers page 25 |