WATCH Hot Elisha Cuthbert Showing All
Hot Elisha Cuthbert at MrSkin
CLICK HERE for Instant Access


Elisha Cuthbert Photos
The Pickwick Papers 343







Elisha Cuthbert Photos



Books:

Martin Eden

The Pickwick Papers

The Sea Wolf




How they tore along! The noise behind grew louder. The faster the old mail went, the faster came the pursuers--men, horses, dogs, were leagued in the pursuit. The noise was frightful, but, above all, rose the voice of the young lady, urging my uncle on, and shrieking, "Faster! Faster!" They whirled past the dark trees, as feathers would be swept before a hurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects of every kind they shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaring waters suddenly let loose. But still the noise of pursuit grew louder, and still my uncle could hear the young lady wildly screaming, "Faster! Faster!" My uncle plied whip and rein, and the horses flew onward till they were white with foam; and yet the noise behind increased; and yet the young lady cried, "Faster! Faster!" My uncle gave a loud stamp on the boot in the energy of the moment, and-- found that it was gray morning, and he was sitting in the wheelwrights yard, on the box of an old Edinburgh mail, shivering with the cold and wet and stamping his feet to warm them! He got down, and looked eagerly inside for the beautiful young lady. Alas! There was neither door nor seat to the coach. It was a mere shell. Of course, my uncle knew very well that there was some mystery in the matter, and that everything had passed exactly as he used to relate it. He remained staunch to the great oath he had sworn to the beautiful young lady, refusing several eligible landladies on her account, and dying a bachelor at last. He always said what a curious thing it was that he should have found out, by such a mere accident as his clambering over the palings, that the ghosts of mail-coaches and horses, guards, coachmen, and passengers, were in the habit of making journeys regularly every night. He used to add, that he believed he was the only living person who had ever been taken as a passenger on one of these excursions. And I think he was right, gentlemen-- at least I never heard of any other. I wonder what these ghosts of mail-coaches carry in their bags, said the landlord, who had listened to the whole story with profound attention. The dead letters, of course, said the bagman. Oh, ah! To be sure, rejoined the landlord. I never thought of that.

CHAPTER L

HOW Mr. PICKWICK SPED UPON HIS MISSION, AND HOW HE WAS REINFORCED IN THE OUTSET BY A MOST UNEXPECTED AUXILIARY

The horses were put to, punctually at a quarter before nine next morning, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller having each taken his seat, the one inside and the other out, the postillion was duly directed to repair in the first instance to Mr. Bob Sawyers house, for the purpose of taking up Mr. Benjamin Allen. It was with feelings of no small astonishment, when the carriage drew up before the door with the red lamp, and the very legible inscription of Sawyer, late Nockemorf, that Mr. Pickwick saw, on popping his head out of the coach window, the boy in the gray livery very busily employed in putting up the shutters --the which, being an unusual and an unbusinesslike proceeding at that hour of the morning, at once suggested to his mind two inferences: the one, that some good friend and patient of Mr. Bob Sawyers was dead; the other, that Mr. Bob Sawyer himself was bankrupt. What is the matter? said Mr. Pickwick to the boy. Nothings the matter, Sir, replied the boy, expanding his mouth to the whole breadth of his countenance. All right, all right! cried Bob Sawyer, suddenly appearing at the door, with a small leathern knapsack, limp and dirty, in one hand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm. Im going, old fellow. You! exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. Yes, replied Bob Sawyer, and a regular expedition well make of it. Here, Sam! Look out! Thus briefly bespeaking Mr. Wellers attention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack into the dickey, where it was immediately stowed away, under the seat, by Sam, who regarded the proceeding with great admiration. This done, Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the assistance of the boy, forcibly worked himself into the rough coat, which was a few sizes too small for him, and then advancing to the coach window, thrust in his head, and laughed boisterously. What a start it is, isnt

The Pickwick Papers page 342        The Pickwick Papers page 344