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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
felt,
gentlemen, that for a guard he didnt know, to call him Jack
Martin, was a liberty which the Post Office wouldnt have
sanctioned if they had known it.
"No, there is not," rejoined the guard coolly.
"Is the fare paid?" inquired my uncle.
"Of course it is," rejoined the guard.
"it is, is it?" said my uncle. "Then here goes! Which coach?"
"This," said the guard, pointing to an old-fashioned Edinburgh
and London mail, which had the steps down and the door open.
"Stop! Here are the other passengers. Let them get in first."
As the guard spoke, there all at once appeared, right in front
of my uncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig, and a sky-
blue coat trimmed with silver, made very full and broad in the
skirts, which were lined with buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in
the printed calico and waistcoat piece line, gentlemen, so my
uncle knew all the materials at once. He wore knee breeches, and
a kind of leggings rolled up over his silk stockings, and shoes with
buckles; he had ruffles at his wrists, a three-cornered hat on his
head, and a long taper sword by his side. The flaps of his waist-
coat came half-way down his thighs, and the ends of his cravat
reached to his waist. He stalked gravely to the coach door, pulled
off his hat, and held it above his head at arms length, cocking his
little finger in the air at the same time, as some affected people
do, when they take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together,
and made a low, grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My
uncle was just going to step forward, and shake it heartily, when
he perceived that these attentions were directed, not towards him,
but to a young lady who just then appeared at the foot of the
steps, attired in an old-fashioned green velvet dress with a long
waist and stomacher. She had no bonnet on her head, gentlemen,
which was muffled in a black silk hood, but she looked round for
an instant as she prepared to get into the coach, and such a
beautiful face as she disclosed, my uncle had never seen--not even
in a picture. She got into the coach, holding up her dress with one
hand; and as my uncle always said with a round oath, when he
told the story, he wouldnt have believed it possible that legs and
feet could have been brought to such a state of perfection unless
he had seen them with his own eyes.
But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw
that the young lady cast an imploring look upon him, and that
she appeared terrified and distressed. He noticed, too, that the
young fellow in the powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of
gallantry, which was all very fine and grand, clasped her tight by
the wrist when she got in, and followed himself immediately
afterwards. An uncommonly ill-looking fellow, in a close brown
wig, and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a very large sword, and
boots up to his hips, belonged to the party; and when he sat
himself down next to the young lady, who shrank into a corner
at his approach, my uncle was confirmed in his original
impression that something dark and mysterious was going forward,
or, as he always said himself, that "there was a screw
loose somewhere." Its quite surprising how quickly he made
up his mind to help the lady at any peril, if she needed any help.
"Death and lightning!" exclaimed the young gentleman,
laying his hand upon his sword as my uncle entered the coach.
"Blood and thunder!" roared the other gentleman. With
this, he whipped his sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle
without further ceremony. My uncle had no weapon about him,
but with great dexterity he snatched the ill-looking gentlemans
three-cornered hat from his head, and, receiving the point of his
sword right through the crown, squeezed the sides together, and
held it tight.
"Pink him behind!" cried the ill-looking gentleman to his
companion, as he struggled to regain his sword.
"He had better not," cried my uncle, displaying the heel of
one of his shoes, in a threatening manner. "Ill kick his brains
out, if he has any--, or fracture his skull if he hasnt." Exerting all
his strength, at this moment, my uncle wrenched the ill-looking
mans The Pickwick Papers page 337 The Pickwick Papers page 339 |