'Gentlemen, there is an old story--none the worse for beingtrue--regarding a fine young Irish gentleman, who being asked ifhe could play the fiddle, replied he had no doubt he could, but hecouldn't exactly say, for certain, because he had never tried. Thisis not inapplicable to my uncle and his fencing. He had never hada sword in his hand before, except once when he played Richardthe Third at a private theatre, upon which occasion it wasarranged with Richmond that he was to be run through, frombehind, without showing fight at all. But here he was, cutting andslashing with two experienced swordsman, thrusting, and guarding,and poking, and slicing, and acquitting himself in the mostmanful and dexterous manner possible, although up to that timehe had never been aware that he had the least notion of thescience. It only shows how true the old saying is, that a man neverknows what he can do till he tries, gentlemen.

'The noise of the combat was terrific; each of the threecombatants swearing like troopers, and their swords clashing with asmuch noise as if all the knives and steels in Newport market wererattling together, at the same time. When it was at its very height,the lady (to encourage my uncle most probably) withdrewher hood entirely from her face, and disclosed a countenance ofsuch dazzling beauty, that he would have fought against fiftymen, to win one smile from it and die. He had done wondersbefore, but now he began to powder away like a raving mad giant.

'At this very moment, the gentleman in sky-blue turninground, and seeing the young lady with her face uncovered,vented an exclamation of rage and jealousy, and, turning hisweapon against her beautiful bosom, pointed a thrust at herheart, which caused my uncle to utter a cry of apprehension thatmade the building ring. The lady stepped lightly aside, andsnatching the young man's sword from his hand, before he hadrecovered his balance, drove him to the wall, and running itthrough him, and the panelling, up to the very hilt, pinned himthere, hard and fast. It was a splendid example. My uncle, with aloud shout of triumph, and a strength that was irresistible, madehis adversary retreat in the same direction, and plunging the oldrapier into the very centre of a large red flower in the pattern ofhis waistcoat, nailed him beside his friend; there they both stood,gentlemen, jerking their arms and legs about in agony, like thetoy-shop figures that are moved by a piece of pack-thread. Myuncle always said, afterwards, that this was one of the surestmeans he knew of, for disposing of an enemy; but it was liable toone objection on the ground of expense, inasmuch as it involvedthe loss of a sword for every man disabled.

'"The mail, the mail!" cried the lady, running up to my uncleand throwing her beautiful arms round his neck; "we may yet escape."

'"May!" cried my uncle; "why, my dear, there's nobody elseto kill, is there?" My uncle was rather disappointed, gentlemen,for he thought a little quiet bit of love-making would be agreeableafter the slaughtering, if it were only to change the subject.

'"We have not an instant to lose here," said the young lady."He (pointing to the young gentleman in sky-blue) is the onlyson of the powerful Marquess of Filletoville."'"Well then, my dear, I'm afraid he'll never come to thetitle," said my uncle, looking coolly at the young gentleman as hestood fixed up against the wall, in the cockchafer fashion that Ihave described. "You have cut off the entail, my love."

'"I have been torn from my home and my friends by thesevillains," said the young lady, her features glowing with indignation."That wretch would have married me by violence in another hour."

'"Confound his impudence!" said my uncle, bestowing a verycontemptuous look on the dying heir of Filletoville.

' "As you may guess from what you have seen," said theyoung lady, "the party were prepared to murder me if I appealedto any one for assistance. If their accomplices find us here, we arelost. Two minutes hence may be too late. The mail!" With thesewords, overpowered by her feelings, and the exertion of stickingthe young Marquess of Filletoville, she sank into my uncle'sarms. My uncle caught her up, and bore her to the house door.There stood the mail, with four long-tailed, flowing-maned, blackhorses, ready harnessed; but no coachman, no guard, no hostlereven, at the horses' heads.

'Gentlemen, I hope I do no injustice to my uncle's memory,when I express my opinion, that although he was a bachelor, hehad held some ladies in his arms before this time; I believe,indeed, that he had rather a habit of kissing barmaids; and Iknow, that in one or two instances, he had been seen by crediblewitnesses, to hug a landlady in a very perceptible manner. Imention the circumstance, to show what a very uncommon sortof person this beautiful young lady must have been, to haveaffected my uncle in the way she did; he used to say, that as herlong dark hair trailed over his arm, and her beautiful dark eyesfixed themselves upon his face when she recovered, he felt sostrange and nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. Butwho can look in a sweet, soft pair of dark eyes, without feelingqueer? I can't, gentlemen. I am afraid to look at some eyes Iknow, and that's the truth of it.

'"You will never leave me," murmured the young lady.

'"Never," said my uncle. And he meant it too.

'"My dear preserver!" exclaimed the young lady. "My dear,kind, brave preserver!"

'"Don't," said my uncle, interrupting her.

'"'Why?" inquired the young lady.

'"Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak,"rejoined my uncle, "that I'm afraid I shall be rude enough tokiss it."

'The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle notto do so, and said-- No, she didn't say anything--she smiled.When you are looking at a pair of the most delicious lips in theworld, and see them gently break into a roguish smile--if you arevery near them, and nobody else by--you cannot better testifyyour admiration of their beautiful form and colour than bykissing them at once. My uncle did so, and I honour him for it.

'"Hark!" cried the young lady, starting. "The noise of wheels,and horses!"

'"So it is," said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear forwheels, and the trampling of hoofs; but there appeared to be somany horses and carriages rattling towards them, from a distance,that it was impossible to form a guess at their number. The soundwas like that of fifty brakes, with six blood cattle in each.

'"We are pursued!" cried the young lady, clasping her hands."We are pursued. I have no hope but in you!"

'There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face,that my uncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into thecoach, told her not to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers oncemore, and then advising her to draw up the window to keep thecold air out, mounted to the box.

'"Stay, love," cried the young lady.

'"What's the matter?" said my uncle, from the coach-box.

'"I want to speak to you," said the young lady; "only a word.Only one word, dearest."

'"Must I get down?" inquired my uncle. The lady made noanswer, but she smiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen! It beatthe other one, all to nothing. My uncle descended from his perchin a twinkling.

'"What is it, my dear?" said my uncle, looking in at the coachwindow. The lady happened to bend forward at the same time,and my uncle thought she looked more beautiful than she haddone yet. He was very close to her just then, gentlemen, so hereally ought to know.

'"What is it, my dear?" said my uncle.

'"Will you never love any one but me--never marry any onebeside?" said the young lady.

'My uncle swore a great oath that he never would marry anybodyelse, and the young lady drew in her head, and pulled upthe window. He jumped upon the box, squared his elbows,adjusted the ribands, seized the whip which lay on the roof, gaveone flick to the off leader, and away went the four long-tailed,flowing-maned black horses, at fifteen good English miles anhour, with the old mail-coach behind them. Whew! How theytore along!

'The noise behind grew louder. The faster the old mail went,the faster came the pursuers--men, horses, dogs, were leaguedin the pursuit. The noise was frightful, but, above all, rose thevoice of the young lady, urging my uncle on, and shrieking,"Faster! Faster!"

'They whirled past the dark trees, as feathers would be sweptbefore a hurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects ofevery kind they shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaringwaters suddenly let loose. But still the noise of pursuit grewlouder, and still my uncle could hear the young lady wildlyscreaming, "Faster! Faster!"

'My uncle plied whip and rein, and the horses flew onward tillthey were white with foam; and yet the noise behind increased;and yet the young lady cried, "Faster! Faster!" My uncle gave aloud stamp on the boot in the energy of the moment, and--found that it was gray morning, and he was sitting in the wheelwright'syard, on the box of an old Edinburgh mail, shivering withthe cold and wet and stamping his feet to warm them! He gotdown, and looked eagerly inside for the beautiful young lady.Alas! There was neither door nor seat to the coach. It was amere shell.

'Of course, my uncle knew very well that there was somemystery in the matter, and that everything had passed exactly ashe used to relate it. He remained staunch to the great oath hehad sworn to the beautiful young lady, refusing several eligiblelandladies on her account, and dying a bachelor at last. Healways said what a curious thing it was that he should havefound out, by such a mere accident as his clambering over thepalings, that the ghosts of mail-coaches and horses, guards,coachmen, and passengers, were in the habit of making journeysregularly every night. He used to add, that he believed he was theonly living person who had ever been taken as a passenger onone 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 withprofound attention.

'The dead letters, of course,' said the bagman.

'Oh, ah! To be sure,' rejoined the landlord. 'I never thoughtof that.'

CHAPTER LHOW Mr. PICKWICK SPED UPON HIS MISSION, AND HOWHE WAS REINFORCED IN THE OUTSET BY A MOSTUNEXPECTED AUXILIARY

The horses were put to, punctually at a quarter before ninenext morning, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller having each takenhis seat, the one inside and the other out, the postillionwas duly directed to repair in the first instance to Mr. BobSawyer's house, for the purpose of taking up Mr. Benjamin Allen.

It was with feelings of no small astonishment, when thecarriage drew up before the door with the red lamp, and the verylegible inscription of 'Sawyer, late Nockemorf,' that Mr. Pickwicksaw, on popping his head out of the coach window, the boyin the gray livery very busily employed in putting up the shutters--the which, being an unusual and an unbusinesslike proceedingat that hour of the morning, at once suggested to his mind twoinferences: the one, that some good friend and patient of Mr.Bob Sawyer's was dead; the other, that Mr. Bob Sawyer himselfwas bankrupt.

'What is the matter?' said Mr. Pickwick to the boy.

'Nothing's the matter, Sir,' replied the boy, expanding hismouth to the whole breadth of his countenance.

'All right, all right!' cried Bob Sawyer, suddenly appearing atthe door, with a small leathern knapsack, limp and dirty, in onehand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm.'I'm going, old fellow.'

'You!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

'Yes,' replied Bob Sawyer, 'and a regular expedition we'll makeof it. Here, Sam! Look out!' Thus briefly bespeaking Mr. Weller'sattention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack intothe dickey, where it was immediately stowed away, under theseat, 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 fewsizes too small for him, and then advancing to the coach window,thrust in his head, and laughed boisterously.'What a start it is, isn't it?' cried Bob, wiping the tears out ofhis eyes, with one of the cuffs of the rough coat.

'My dear Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with some embarrassment,'I had no idea of your accompanying us.'

'No, that's just the very thing,' replied Bob, seizing Mr. Pickwickby the lappel of his coat. 'That's the joke.'

'Oh, that's the joke, is it?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Of course,' replied Bob. 'It's the whole point of the thing, youknow--that, and leaving the business to take care of itself, as itseems to have made up its mind not to take care of me.' Withthis explanation of the phenomenon of the shutters, Mr. BobSawyer pointed to the shop, and relapsed into an ecstasy of mirth.

'Bless me, you are surely not mad enough to think of leavingyour patients without anybody to attend them!' remonstratedMr. Pickwick in a very serious tone.

'Why not?' asked Bob, in reply. 'I shall save by it, you know.None of them ever pay. Besides,' said Bob, lowering his voice toa confidential whisper, 'they will be all the better for it; for,being nearly out of drugs, and not able to increase my accountjust now, I should have been obliged to give them calomel allround, and it would have been certain to have disagreed withsome of them. So it's all for the best.'

There was a philosophy and a strength of reasoning about thisreply, which Mr. Pickwick was not prepared for. He paused afew moments, and added, less firmly than before--

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
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