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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
sword from his grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach
window, upon which the younger gentleman vociferated, "Death
and lightning!" again, and laid his hand upon the hilt of his
sword, in a very fierce manner, but didnt draw it. Perhaps,
gentlemen, as my uncle used to say with a smile, perhaps he was
afraid of alarming the lady.
"Now, gentlemen," said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately,
"I dont want to have any death, with or without lightning,
in a ladys presence, and we have had quite blood and
thundering enough for one journey; so, if you please, well sit in
our places like quiet insides. Here, guard, pick up that
gentlemans carving-knife."
As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared at
the coach window, with the gentlemans sword in his hand. He
held up his lantern, and looked earnestly in my uncles face, as
he handed it in, when, by its light, my uncle saw, to his great
surprise, that an immense crowd of mail-coach guards swarmed
round the window, every one of whom had his eyes earnestly
fixed upon him too. He had never seen such a sea of white faces,
red bodies, and earnest eyes, in all his born days.
"This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to do
with," thought my uncle; "allow me to return you your hat, sir."
The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat in
silence, looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air,
and finally stuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the
effect of which was a trifle impaired by his sneezing violently at
the moment, and jerking it off again.
"All right!" cried the guard with the lantern, mounting into
his little seat behind. Away they went. My uncle peeped out of
the coach window as they emerged from the yard, and observed
that the other mails, with coachmen, guards, horses, and
passengers, complete, were driving round and round in circles, at
a slow trot of about five miles an hour. My uncle burned with
indignation, gentlemen. As a commercial man, he felt that the
mail-bags were not to be trifled with, and he resolved to memorialise
the Post Office on the subject, the very instant he reached London.
At present, however, his thoughts were occupied with the
young lady who sat in the farthest corner of the coach, with her
face muffled closely in her hood; the gentleman with the sky-blue
coat sitting opposite to her; the other man in the plum-coloured
suit, by her side; and both watching her intently. If she so much
as rustled the folds of her hood, he could hear the ill-looking man
clap his hand upon his sword, and could tell by the others
breathing (it was so dark he couldnt see his face) that he was
looking as big as if he were going to devour her at a mouthful.
This roused my uncle more and more, and he resolved, come
what might, to see the end of it. He had a great admiration for
bright eyes, and sweet faces, and pretty legs and feet; in short, he
was fond of the whole sex. It runs in our family, gentleman--so
am I.
Many were the devices which my uncle practised, to attract
the ladys attention, or at all events, to engage the mysterious
gentlemen in conversation. They were all in vain; the gentlemen
wouldnt talk, and the lady didnt dare. He thrust his head out of
the coach window at intervals, and bawled out to know why they
didnt go faster. But he called till he was hoarse; nobody paid the
least attention to him. He leaned back in the coach, and thought
of the beautiful face, and the feet and legs. This answered better;
it whiled away the time, and kept him from wondering where he
was going, and how it was that he found himself in such an odd
situation. Not that this would have worried him much, anyway
--he was a mighty free and easy, roving, devil-may-care sort of
person, was my uncle, gentlemen.
All of a sudden the coach stopped. "Hollo!" said my uncle,
"whats in the wind now?"
"Alight here," said the guard, letting down the steps.
"Here!" cried my uncle.
"Here," rejoined the guard.
"Ill do nothing of the sort," said my uncle.
"Very well, then stop where you are," said the guard.
"I will," said my uncle.
"Do," said the guard.
The The Pickwick Papers page 338 The Pickwick Papers page 340 |