exhausted, and about to give up the chase, when the hat was plown with some violence against the wheel of a carriage, which was drawn up in a line with half-a-dozen other vehicles, on the spot to which his steps had been directed. Mr. Pickwick, perceiving his advantage, darted briskly forward, secured his property, planted it on his head, and paused to take breath. He had not been stationary half a minute, when he heard his own name eagerly pronounced by a voice which he at once recognised as Mr. Tupman's, and, looking upwards, he beheld a sight which filled him with surprise and pleasure. In an open barouche, the horses of which had been taken out, the better to accommodate it to the crowded place, stood a stout old gentleman, in a blue coat and bright buttons, corderoy breeches and top-boots, two young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a young gentleman, apparently enamoured of one of the young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a lady of doubtful age, probably the aunt of the aforesaid, and Mr. Tupman, as easy and unconcerned as if he had belonged to the family from the first moments of his infancy. Fastened up behind the barouche was a hamper of spacious dimensions one of those hampers which always awakens in a contemplative mind, associations connected with cold fowls, tongue, and bottles of wine-and on the box sat a fat and red-faced boy, in a state of somnolency, whom no speculative observer could have regarded for an instant without setting down as the official dispenser of the contents of the before-mentioned hamper, when the proper time for their consumption should arrive. Mr. Pickwick had bestowed a hasty glance on these interesting objects, when he was again greeted by his faithful disciple. "Pickwick-Pickwick," said Mr. Tupman; "come up here. Make haste." "Come along, Sir. Pray, come up," said the stout gentleman. "Joe!-damn that boy, he's gone to sleep again.-Joe, let down the steps." The fat boy rolled slowly off the box, let down the steps, and held the carriage-door invitingly open. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle came up at the moment. "Room for you all, gentlemen," said the stout man. "Two inside, and one out. Joe, make room for one of these gentlemen on the box. Now, Sir, come along;" and the stout gentleman extended his arm, and pulled first Mr. Pickwick, and then Mr. Snodgrass, into the barouche by main force. Mr. Winkle mounted to the box, the fat boy waddled to the same perch, and fell fast asleep instantly. Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compli ment, and cordially shook hands with the stout gentleman in the top-boots. 66 "Well, and how are you, Sir?" said the stout gentleman, addressing Mr. Snodgrass, with parental anxiety. Charming, eh? Well, that's right-that's right. And how are you, Sir (to Mr. Winkle)? Well, I am glad to hear you say you are well; very glad I am, to be sure. My daughters, gentlemen-my gals, these are; and that's my sister, Miss Rachel Wardle. She's a Miss, she is; and yet she aint a Misseh, Sir-eh?" And the stout gentleman playfully inserted his elbow between the ribs of Mr. Pickwick, and laughed very heartily. "Lor, brother!" said Miss Wardle, with a deprecating smile. "True, true," said the stout gentleman; "no one can deny it. Gentlemen, I beg your pardon; this is my friend Mr. Trundle. And now you all know each other, let's be comfortable and happy, and see what's going forward; that's what I say." So the stout gentleman put on his spectacles, and Mr. Pickwick pulled out his glass, and every body stood up in the carriage, and looked over somebody else's shoulder at the evolutions of the military. Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing over the heads of another rank, and then running away; and then the other rank firing over the heads of another rank, and running away in their turn; and then forming squares with officers in the centre ; and then descending the trench on one side with scaling-ladders, and ascending it on the other again by the same means; and knocking down barricades of baskets, and behaving in the most gallant manner possible. Then there was such a ramming down of the contents of enormous guns on the battery, with instruments like magnified mops; such a preparation before they were let off, and such an awful noise when they did go, that the air resounded with the screams of ladies. The young Miss Wardles were so frightened, that Mr. Trundle was actually obliged to hold one of them up in the carriage, while Mr Snodgrass supported the other; and Mr. Wardle's sister suffered under such dreadful state of nervous alarm, that Mr Tupman found it indispensably necessary a to put his arm round her waist to keep her up at all. Every body was excited except the fat boy, and he slept as soundly as if the roaring of cannon were his ordinary Jullaby. "Joe, Joe!" said the stout gentleman, when the citadel was taken, and the besiegers and besieged sat down to dinner. "Damn that boy, he 's gone to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him, Sir-in the leg, if you please; nothing else wakes him -thank you. Undo the hamper, Joe." "With the greatest pleasure." "You'd better have a bottle to yourself, up there, hadn't you?" "You're very good." "Joe!" "Yes, Sir." The fat boy, who had been effectually roused by the compression of a portion of his leg, between the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, rolled off the box once again, and proceeded to unpack the hamper, with more expedition than could have been ex-box. Glad to see you, Sir." pected from his previous inactivity. (He wasn't asleep this time, having just succeeded in abstracting a veal patty.) gen "Now, we must sit close," said the stout gentleman. After a great many jokes about squeezing the ladies' sleeves, and a vast quantity of blushing at sundry jocose proposals that the ladies should sit in the tlemen's laps, the whole party were stowed down in the barouche; and the stout gentleman proceeded to hand the things from the fat boy (who had mounted up behind for the purpose), into the carriage. "Now, Joe, knives and forks." The knives and forks were handed in, and the ladies and gentlemen inside, and Mr. Winkle on the box, were each furnished with those useful implements. "Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the “Thankee.” Mr. Winkle emptied his glass, and placed the bottle on the coachbox, by his side. 66 Will you permit me to have the pleasure, Sir?" said Mr. Trundle to Mr. Winkle. "With great pleasure," replied Mr. Winkle to Mr. Trundle; and then the two gentlemen took wine, after which they took a glass of wine round, ladies and all. "How dear Emily is flirting with the strange gentleman," whispered the spinster aunt, with true spinster-aunt-like envy, to her brother Mr. Wardle. "Oh! I don't know," said the jolly old gentleman; "all very natural, I dare say -nothing unusual. Mr. Pickwick, some "Plates, Joe, plates." wine, Sir?" Mr. Pickwick, who had been cess employed in the distribution of the deeply investigating the interior of the crockery. pigeon-pie, readily assented. A similar pro "Now, Joe, the fowls. Damn that boy; he's gone to sleep again. Joe! Joe!" (Sundry taps on the head with a stick, and the fat boy, with some difficulty, roused from his lethargy.) "Come, hand in the eatables." There was something in the sound of the last word, which roused the unctuous boy. He jumped up: and the leaden eyes, which twinkled behind his mountainous cheeks, leered horribly upon the food as he unpacked it from the basket. “Now, make haste," said Mr. Wardle; for the fat boy was hanging fondly over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. The boy sighed deeply, and bestowing an ardent gaze upon its plumpness, unwillingly consigned it to his master. aunt, with a patronising air, "don't talk so "Emily, my dear," said the spinster loud, love." "Lor, aunt!" "Aunt and the little old gentleman want to have it all to themselves, I think," whispered Miss Isabella Wardle to her sister heartily, and the old one tried to look amiaEmily. The young ladies laughed very ble, but couldn't manage it. Miss Wardle to Mr. Tupman, with an air "Young girls have such spirits,” said of gentle commiseration, as if animal spirits were contraband, and their possession without a permit, a high crime and misde "That's right-look sharp. Now the tongue-now the pigeon-pie. Take care of that veal and ham-mind the lobsters-biously. take the salad out of the cloth-give me the dressing." Such were the hurried orders which issued from the lips of Mr. Wardle, as he handed in the different articles described, and placed dishes in every "Will you permit me," said Mr. Tupman, in his blandest manner, touching the enchanting Rachel's wrist with one hand, and gently elevating the bottle with the other. "Will you permit me?" "Oh, Sir!" Mr. Tupman looked most impressive; and Rachel expressed her fear that more guns were going off, in which case, of course, she would have required support again. "Do you think my dear nieces pretty ?" whispered their affectionate aunt to Mr. Tupman. "I should, if their aunt wasn't here," replied the ready Pickwickian with a passionate glance. "Oh, you naughty man-but really, if their complexion were a little better, don't you think they would be nice-looking girls - by candle-light?" 66 Yes; I think they would ;" said Mr. Tupman, with an air of indifference. 66 “Oh, you quiz-I know what you were going to say." "What?" inquired Mr. Tupman, who nad not precisely made up his mind to say anything at all." "You were going to say that Isabella stoops-I know you were— you men are such observers. Well, so she does; it can't be denied; and certainly if there's one thing more than another that makes a girl look ugly, it is stooping. I often tell her, that when she gets a little older, she 'll be quite frightful. Well, you are a quiz!" Mr. Tupman had no objection to earning the reputation at so cheap a rate; so he looked very knowing, and smiled mysteriously. "What a sarcastic smile," said the admiring Rachel; "I declare I'm quite afraid of you." "Afraid of me!" "Oh, you can't disguise anything from me-I know what that smile means, very well." "What?" said Mr. Tupman, who had not the slightest notion himself. "You mean," said the amiable aunt, sinking her voice still lower-"you mean, that you don't think Isabella's stooping is as bad as Emily's boldness. Well, she is bold! You can't think how wretched it makes me sometimes-I'm sure I cry about it for hours together - my dear brother is so good, and so unsuspicious, that he never sees it; if he did, I'm quite certain it would break his heart. I wish I could think it was only manner-I hope it may be-" (here the affectionate relative heaved a deep sigh, and shook her head despondingly.) "I'm sure aunt's talking about us," whispered Miss Emily Wardle to her sister-"I'm quite certain of it, she looks so malicious." "Is she?" replied Isabella. annt, dear!"9 "Yes, my dear love!" "Hem! "I'm so afraid you'll catch cold, aunthave a silk handkerchief to tie round your dear old head-you really should take care of yourself-consider your age!" However well deserved this piece of retaliation might have been, it was as vindictive a one as could well have been resorted to. There is no guessing in what form of reply the aunt's indignation would have vented itself, had not Mr. Wardle unconsciously changed the subject, by calling emphatically for Joe. "Damn that boy," said the old gentleman, "he's gone to sleep again.” 66 Very extraordinary boy, that," said Mr. Pickwick, "does he always sleep in this way?" Sleep!" said the old gentleman, "he's always asleep. Goes on errands fast asleep, and snores as he waits at table." "How very odd!" said Mr. Pickwick. "Ah! odd indeed," returned the old gentleman; "I'm proud of that boy. wouldn't part with him on any accountdam'me, he's a natural curiosity! Here, Joe-Joe-take these things away, and open another bottle-d'ye hear?" The fat boy rose, opened his eyes, swallowed the huge piece of pie he had been in the act of masticating when he last fell asleep, and slowly obeyed his master's orders-gloating languidly over the remains of the feast, as he removed the plates, and deposited them in the hamper. The fresh bottle was produced, and speedily emptied: the hamper was made fast in its old placethe fat boy once more mounted the boxthe spectacles and pocket-glass were again adjusted-and the evolutions of the military recommenced. There was a great fizzing and banging of guns, and starting of ladies -and then a mine was sprung, to the gratification of every body-and when the mine had gone off, the military and the company followed its example, and went off too. "Now, mind," said the old gentleman, as he shook hands with Mr. Pickwick at the conclusion of a conversation which had been carried on at intervals, during the conclusion of the proceedings-"we shall see you all to-morrow." "Most certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick. "You have got the address ?" "Manor Farm, Dingley Dell," said Mr Pickwick, consulting his pocket-book. "That's it," said the old gentleman. "I don't let you off, mind, under a week; and undertake that you shall see every thing worth seeing. If you've come down for a country life, come to me, and I'll give you plenty of it. Joe- -damn that boy, he's gone to sleep again—Joe, help Tom put in the horses."" "I was," said Mr. Pickwick. "And congratulating yourself on being up so soon?" Mr. Pickwick nodded assent. "Ah! people need to rise early, to see the sun in all his splendour, for his brightness seldom lasts the day through. The morning of day and the morning of life are but too much alike." "You speak truly, Sir," said Mr. Pickwick. "How common the saying," continued the dismal man, "the morning 's too fine. to last.' How well might it be applied to God! what would our every-day existence. I forfeit to have the da ́s of my childhood restored, or be able to forget them for ever!" "You have seen much trouble, Sir," said Mr. Pickwick, compassionately. 66 'I have," said the dismal man, hurriedly; "I have. More than those who see me now, would believe possible." He paused for an instant, and then said abruptly, BRIGHT and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air, and beautiful the appearance of every object around, as Mr. Pickwick leaned over the balustrades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and waiting for breakfast. The scene was indeed one, which might well have charmed a far less reflective mind than that to which it was pre-ness and peace?" sented. On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, broken in many places, and in some, overhanging the narrow beach below in rude and heavy masses. Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its old might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. On either side, the banks of the Medway, covered with corn-fields and pastures, with here and there a windmill, or a distant church, stretched away as far as the eye could see, presenting a rich and varied landscape, rendered more beautiful by the changing shadows which passed swiftly across it, as the thin and half-formed clouds skimmed away in the light of the morning sun. The river, reflecting the clear blue of the sky, glistened and sparkled as it flowed noiselessly on; and the oars of the fishermen dipped into the water with a clear and liquid sound, as their heavy but picturesque boats glided slowly down the stream. Mr. Pickwick was roused from the agreeable reverie into which he had been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch on his shoulder. He turned round, and the dismal man was at his side. "Contemplating the scene?" inquired the dismal man "Did it ever strike you, on such a morning as this, that drowning would be happi "God bless me, no!" replied Mr. Pickwick, edging a little from the balustrade, as the possibility of the dismal man's tipping him over, by way of experiment, occurred to him rather forcibly. "I have thought so often," said the dismal man, without noticing the action. "The calm, cool water seems to me to murmur an invitation to repose and rest. A bound, a splash, a brief struggle; there is an eddy for an instant, it gradually subsides into a gentle ripple; the waters have closed above your head, and the world has closed upon your miseries and your misfortunes for ever." The sunken eye of the dismal man flashed brightly as he spoke, but the momentary excitement quickly subsided; and he turned calmly away, as he said— "There-enough of that. I wished to see you on another subject. You invited me to read that paper, the night before last, and listened attentively while I did so." "I did," replied Mr. Pickwick; "and I certainly thought-" "I asked for no opinion," said the dismal man, interrupting him, "and I want none. You are travelling for amusement and instruction. Suppose I forwarded you a curious manuscript observe not curious because wild or improbable, but curious as a leaf from the romance of real life. Would you communicate it to the club of which you have spoken so frequently?" "Certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, “it you wished it; and it would be entered on their transactions." "You shall have it," replied the dismal man. "Your address:" and Mr. Pickwick having communicated their probable route, the dismal man carefully noted it down in a greasy pocket-book, and, resisting Mr. Pickwick's pressing invitation to breakfast, left that gentleman at his inn, and walked slowly away. Mr. Pickwick found that his three companions had risen, and were waiting his arrival to commence breakfast, which was ready laid in tempting display. They sat down to the meal; and broiled ham, eggs, tea, coffee, and sundries began to disappear with a rapidity which at once bore testimony to the excellence of the fare, and the appetites of its consumers. "Now, about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick." How shall we go?" "We had better consult the waiter, perhaps," said Mr. Tupman; and the waiter was summoned accordingly. "Dingley Dell, gentlemen-fifteen miles, gentlemen-cross-road-post-chaise, Sir?" "Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said Mr. Pickwick. "True, Sir-beg your pardon, Sir.Very nice four-wheel chaise, Sir-seat for two behind-one in front for the gentleman that drives-oh! beg your pardon, Sirthat 'll only hold three." "What's to be done?" said Mr. Snodgrass. "Perhaps one of the gentlemen like to ride, Sir," suggested the waiter, looking towards Mr. Winkle; "very good saddle horses, Sir-any of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester, bring 'em back, Sir." "The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. "Winkle, will you go on horseback?” Now Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings in the very lowest recesses of his own heart relative to his equestrian skill; but as he would not have them even suspected on any account, he at once replied with great hardihood, "Certainly. I would enjoy it, of all things.” Mr. Winkle had rushed upon his fate; there was no resource. "Let them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. Pickwick. "Very well, Sir," replied the waiter. The waiter retired; the breakfast concluded; and the travellers ascended to their respective bed-rooms to prepare a change of clothing, to take with them on their approaching expedition. Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrangements, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the passengers in the street, when the waiter entered, and announoed that the chaise was ready-an announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed, by forthwith appearing before the coffee-room blinds aforesaid. It was a curious little green box on four wheels, with a low place like a wine-bt for two behind, and an elevated perch for one in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, displaying great symmetry of bone. An hostler stood near it, holding by the bridle another immense horse-apparently a near relative of the animal in the chaiseready saddled for Mr. Winkle. "Bless my soul!" said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon the pavement, while the coats were being put in. "Bless my soul! who's to drive? I never thought of that." "Oh! you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. "Of course," said Mr. Snodgrass. 66 "I!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. "Not the slightest fear, Sir," interposed the hostler. "Warrant him quiet, Sir; a hinfant in arms might drive him." "He don't shy, does he?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "Shy, Sir? He wouldn't shy if he was to meet a vaggin-load of monkeys, with their tails burnt off." The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his perch, and deposited his feet on a floorclothed shelf, erected beneath it for that purpose. "Now, Shiny Villiam," said the hostler to the deputy hostler, "give the gen❜lm'n the ribbins." Shiny Villiam"-so called, probably, from his sleek hair and oily countenance-placed the reins in Mr. Pickwick's left hand; and the upper hostler* thrust a whip into his right. "Woo," cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided inclination to' back into the coffee-room window. "Wo-o," echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass, from the bin. 66 Only his playfulness, gen'lm'n," said' the head hostler, encouragingly, "jist kitch hold on him, Villiam." The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and the principal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting. "Tother side, Sir, if you please." "Blowed if the gen'lm'n wornt a gettin' up on the wrong side," whispered a grinning post-boy, to the inexpressibly gratified waiter. Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle, with about as much difficulty as he would have experienced in get ting up the side of a first rate man-of-war "All right?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it was all wrong. "All right," replied Mr. Winkle faintly. "Let 'em go," cried the hostler," Hold him in, Sir;" and away went the chaise, and the saddle horse, with Mr. Pickwick |