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The Pickwick Papers 56







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The Pickwick Papers

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head out of his window. Yes: there was a chaise-and-four, a short distance before them, dashing along at full gallop. Go on, go on, almost shrieked the old gentleman. Two guineas a-piece, boys--dont let em gain on us--keep it up-- keep it up. The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed; and those in Mr. Wardles galloped furiously behind them. I see his head, exclaimed the choleric old man; damme, I see his head. So do I said Mr. Pickwick; thats he. Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle, completely coated with mud thrown up by the wheels, was plainly discernible at the window of his chaise; and the motion of his arm, which was waving violently towards the postillions, denoted that he was encouraging them to increased exertion. The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges, seemed to rush past them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was the pace at which they tore along. They were close by the side of the first chaise. Jingles voice could be plainly heard, even above the din of the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed with rage and excitement. He roared out scoundrels and villains by the dozen, clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the object of his indignation; but Mr. Jingle only answered with a contemptuous smile, and replied to his menaces by a shout of triumph, as his horses, answering the increased application of whip and spur, broke into a faster gallop, and left the pursuers behind. Mr. Pickwick had just drawn in his head, and Mr. Wardle, exhausted with shouting, had done the same, when a tremendous jolt threw them forward against the front of the vehicle. There was a sudden bump--a loud crash--away rolled a wheel, and over went the chaise. After a very few seconds of bewilderment and confusion, in which nothing but the plunging of horses, and breaking of glass could be made out, Mr. Pickwick felt himself violently pulled out from among the ruins of the chaise; and as soon as he had gained his feet, extricated his head from the skirts of his greatcoat, which materially impeded the usefulness of his spectacles, the full disaster of the case met his view. Old Mr. Wardle without a hat, and his clothes torn in several places, stood by his side, and the fragments of the chaise lay scattered at their feet. The post-boys, who had succeeded in cutting the traces, were standing, disfigured with mud and disordered by hard riding, by the horses heads. About a hundred yards in advance was the other chaise, which had pulled up on hearing the crash. The postillions, each with a broad grin convulsing his countenance, were viewing the adverse party from their saddles, and Mr. Jingle was contemplating the wreck from the coach window, with evident satisfaction. The day was just breaking, and the whole scene was rendered perfectly visible by the grey light of the morning. Hollo! shouted the shameless Jingle, anybody damaged?-- elderly gentlemen--no light weights--dangerous work--very. Youre a rascal, roared Wardle. Ha! ha! replied Jingle; and then he added, with a knowing wink, and a jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise-- I say--shes very well--desires her compliments--begs you wont trouble yourself--love to TUPPY--wont you get up behind?-- drive on, boys. The postillions resumed their proper attitudes, and away rattled the chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a white handkerchief from the coach window. Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the upset, had disturbed the calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwicks temper. The villainy, however, which could first borrow money of his faithful follower, and then abbreviate his name to Tuppy, was more than he could patiently bear. He drew his breath hard, and coloured up to the very tips of his spectacles, as he said, slowly and emphatically-- If ever I meet that man again, Ill-- Yes, yes, interrupted Wardle, thats all very well; but while we stand talking here, theyll get their licence, and be married in London. Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked it down. How far is it to the next stage? inquired Mr. Wardle, of one of the boys. Six mile, aint it, Tom? Rayther better. Rayther better nor six mile, Sir. Cant be helped, said Wardle, we must walk it, Pickwick. No help for it, replied that truly great man. So sending forward one of the boys on horseback, to procure a fresh chaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take care

The Pickwick Papers page 55        The Pickwick Papers page 57