ON THE MUGGLETON COACH

CHARLES DICKENS

NOTE. - Dickens's fame as a humorist rests largely upon his "Pickwick Papers," from which this selection is taken. The adventures of Mr. Pickwick, his friends, and his servant, Sam Weller, have furnished entertainment to scores of delighted readers. This description of a ride on a stagecoach in the crisp cold of a winter day has a breeziness and dash about it 5 which gives the reader a wonderful sense of exhilaration.

Mr. Pickwick and his friends are waiting in the cold on the outside of the Muggleton coach, which they have just attained, well wrapped up in greatcoats, shawls, and comforters. The portmanteaus and carpetbags have been 10 stowed away, and Mr. Weller and the guard are endeavoring to insinuate into the fore boot a huge codfish

several sizes too large for it, which is snugly packed up in a long, brown basket, with a layer of straw over the top, and which has been left to the last, in order that he may repose in safety on the half dozen barrels of real 5 native oysters, all the property of Mr. Pickwick, which have been arranged in regular order at the bottom of the receptacle. The interest displayed in Mr. Pickwick's countenance is most intense, as Mr. Weller and the guard try to squeeze the codfish into the boot, first head first 10 and then tail first, and then top upward and then bottom upward, and then sideways and then longways, all of which artifices the implacable codfish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally hits him in the very middle of the basket, whereupon he suddenly disappears into the boot, 15 and with him the head and shoulders of the guard himself, who, not calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of the codfish, experiences a very unexpected shock, to the unsmotherable delight of all the porters and bystanders. But at last the coachman mounts to 20 the box, Mr. Weller jumps up behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats round their legs and their shawls over their noses, the helpers pull the horse cloths off, the coachman shouts out a cheery "All right!" and away they go.

They have rumbled through the streets, and jolted over 25 the stones, and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels skim over the hard and frosty ground; and the horses, bursting into a canter at a smart crack of

the whip, step along the road as if the load behind them -coach, passengers, codfish, oyster barrels and allwere but a feather at their heels.

They have descended a gentle slope, and enter upon a level as compact and dry as a solid block of marble, two 5 miles long. Another crack of the whip and on they speed at a smart gallop, the horses tossing their heads and rattling the harness as if in exhilaration at the rapidity of the motion; while the coachman, holding whip and reins in one hand, takes off his hat with the other, and resting 10 it on his knees, pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his forehead, partly because he has a habit of doing it, and partly because it's as well to show the passengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to drive four-inhand when you have had as much practice as he has. 15 Having done this very leisurely (otherwise the effect would be materially impaired), he replaces his handkerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and on they speed, more merrily than before.

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And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles through the ill-paved streets of a country town; and the coachman, undoing the buckle which keeps his ribbons together, prepares to throw them off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, and 25 looks about him with great curiosity; perceiving which, the coachman informs Mr. Pickwick of the name of the

town, and tells him it was market day yesterday, both of which pieces of information Mr. Pickwick retails to his fellow-passengers, whereupon they emerge from their coat collars too, and look about them also.

5 Mr. Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one leg dangling in the air, is nearly precipitated into the street as the coach twists round the sharp corner and turns into the market place; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up 10 at the inn yard, where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting.

The coachman throws down the reins and gets down himself, and the other outside passengers drop down also, except those who have no great confidence in their ability 15 to get up again; and they remain where they are and stamp their feet against the coach to warm them, looking with longing eyes and red noses at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament the window.

20 But the guard has delivered at the corn dealer's shop the brown paper packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his shoulder by a leathern strap; and has seen the horses carefully put to; and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from London 25 on the coach roof; and has assisted in the conference between the coachman and the hostler about the gray mare that hurt her off fore leg last Tuesday; and he and

Mr. Weller are all right behind, and the coachman is all right in front, and the old gentleman inside who has kept the window down full two inches all this time has pulled it up again, and the cloths are off, and they are all ready for starting, except the "two stout gentlemen," whom the 5 coachman inquires after with some impatience. Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers, who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for the missing gentlemen 10 as loud as they can bawl. A distant response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come running down it, quite out of breath, for they have been having a glass of ale apiece, and Mr. Pickwick's fingers are so cold that he has been full five minutes before he 15 could find the sixpence to pay for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory "Now then, gen'l'men!" the guard reëchoes it; the old gentleman inside thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people will get down when they know there is n't time for it; Mr. Pickwick struggles up 20 on one side, Mr. Tupman on the other; Mr. Winkle cries "All right!" and off they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are readjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses disappear, and they are once again dashing along the open road, with the fresh, clear air blowing in their 25 faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them.

guard one who has charge of a mail coach. - ribbons: reins.