The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens

  CHAPTER XLIX. CONTAINING THE STORY OF THE BAGMAN'S UNCLE

  My uncle, gentlemen,' said the bagman, 'was one of the merriest,pleasantest, cleverest fellows, that ever lived. I wish you had knownhim, gentlemen. On second thoughts, gentlemen, I don't wish you hadknown him, for if you had, you would have been all, by this time, in theordinary course of nature, if not dead, at all events so near it, as tohave taken to stopping at home and giving up company, which would havedeprived me of the inestimable pleasure of addressing you at thismoment. Gentlemen, I wish your fathers and mothers had known my uncle.They would have been amazingly fond of him, especially your respectablemothers; I know they would. If any two of his numerous virtuespredominated over the many that adorned his character, I should say theywere his mixed punch and his after-supper song. Excuse my dwelling onthese melancholy recollections of departed worth; you won't see a manlike my uncle every day in the week.

  'I have always considered it a great point in my uncle's character,gentlemen, that he was the intimate friend and companion of Tom Smart,of the great house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, City. My unclecollected for Tiggin and Welps, but for a long time he went pretty nearthe same journey as Tom; and the very first night they met, my uncletook a fancy for Tom, and Tom took a fancy for my uncle. They made a betof a new hat before they had known each other half an hour, who shouldbrew the best quart of punch and drink it the quickest. My uncle wasjudged to have won the making, but Tom Smart beat him in the drinking byabout half a salt-spoonful. They took another quart apiece to drink eachother's health in, and were staunch friends ever afterwards. There's adestiny in these things, gentlemen; we can't help it.

  'In personal appearance, my uncle was a trifle shorter than the middlesize; he was a thought stouter too, than the ordinary run of people, andperhaps his face might be a shade redder. He had the jolliest face youever saw, gentleman: something like Punch, with a handsome nose andchin; his eyes were always twinkling and sparkling with good-humour; anda smile--not one of your unmeaning wooden grins, but a real, merry,hearty, good-tempered smile--was perpetually on his countenance. He waspitched out of his gig once, and knocked, head first, against amilestone. There he lay, stunned, and so cut about the face with somegravel which had been heaped up alongside it, that, to use my uncle'sown strong expression, if his mother could have revisited the earth, shewouldn't have known him. Indeed, when I come to think of the matter,gentlemen, I feel pretty sure she wouldn't, for she died when my unclewas two years and seven months old, and I think it's very likely that,even without the gravel, his top-boots would have puzzled the good ladynot a little; to say nothing of his jolly red face. However, there helay, and I have heard my uncle say, many a time, that the man said whopicked him up that he was smiling as merrily as if he had tumbled outfor a treat, and that after they had bled him, the first faintglimmerings of returning animation, were his jumping up in bed, burstingout into a loud laugh, kissing the young woman who held the basin, anddemanding a mutton chop and a pickled walnut. He was very fond ofpickled walnuts, gentlemen. He said he always found that, taken withoutvinegar, they relished the beer.

  'My uncle's great journey was in the fall of the leaf, at which time hecollected debts, and took orders, in the north; going from London toEdinburgh, from Edinburgh to Glasgow, from Glasgow back to Edinburgh,and thence to London by the smack. You are to understand that his secondvisit to Edinburgh was for his own pleasure. He used to go back for aweek, just to look up his old friends; and what with breakfasting withthis one, lunching with that, dining with the third, and supping withanother, a pretty tight week he used to make of it. I don't know whetherany of you, gentlemen, ever partook of a real substantial hospitableScotch breakfast, and then went out to a slight lunch of a bushel ofoysters, a dozen or so of bottled ale, and a noggin or two of whiskey toclose up with. If you ever did, you will agree with me that it requiresa pretty strong head to go out to dinner and supper afterwards.

  'But bless your hearts and eyebrows, all this sort of thing was nothingto my uncle! He was so well seasoned, that it was mere child's play. Ihave heard him say that he could see the Dundee people out, any day, andwalk home afterwards without staggering; and yet the Dundee people haveas strong heads and as strong punch, gentlemen, as you are likely tomeet with, between the poles. I have heard of a Glasgow man and a Dundeeman drinking against each other for fifteen hours at a sitting. Theywere both suffocated, as nearly as could be ascertained, at the samemoment, but with this trifling exception, gentlemen, they were not a bitthe worse for it.

  'One night, within four-and-twenty hours of the time when he had settledto take shipping for London, my uncle supped at the house of a very oldfriend of his, a Bailie Mac something and four syllables after it, wholived in the old town of Edinburgh. There were the bailie's wife, andthe bailie's three daughters, and the bailie's grown-up son, and threeor four stout, bushy eye-browed, canny, old Scotch fellows, that thebailie had got together to do honour to my uncle, and help to makemerry. It was a glorious supper. There was kippered salmon, and Finnanhaddocks, and a lamb's head, and a haggis--a celebrated Scotch dish,gentlemen, which my uncle used to say always looked to him, when it cameto table, very much like a Cupid's stomach--and a great many otherthings besides, that I forget the names of, but very good things,notwithstanding. The lassies were pretty and agreeable; the bailie'swife was one of the best creatures that ever lived; and my uncle was inthoroughly good cue. The consequence of which was, that the young ladiestittered and giggled, and the old lady laughed out loud, and the bailieand the other old fellows roared till they were red in the face, thewhole mortal time. I don't quite recollect how many tumblers of whiskey-toddy each man drank after supper; but this I know, that about oneo'clock in the morning, the bailie's grown-up son became insensiblewhile attempting the first verse of "Willie brewed a peck o' maut"; andhe having been, for half an hour before, the only other man visibleabove the mahogany, it occurred to my uncle that it was almost time tothink about going, especially as drinking had set in at seven o'clock,in order that he might get home at a decent hour. But, thinking it mightnot be quite polite to go just then, my uncle voted himself into thechair, mixed another glass, rose to propose his own health, addressedhimself in a neat and complimentary speech, and drank the toast withgreat enthusiasm. Still nobody woke; so my uncle took a little dropmore--neat this time, to prevent the toddy from disagreeing with him--and, laying violent hands on his hat, sallied forth into the street.

  'It was a wild, gusty night when my uncle closed the bailie's door, andsettling his hat firmly on his head to prevent the wind from taking it,thrust his hands into his pockets, and looking upward, took a shortsurvey of the state of the weather. The clouds were drifting over themoon at their giddiest speed; at one time wholly obscuring her; atanother, suffering her to burst forth in full splendour and shed herlight on all the objects around; anon, driving over her again, withincreased velocity, and shrouding everything in darkness. "Really, thiswon't do," said my uncle, addressing himself to the weather, as if hefelt himself personally offended. "This is not at all the kind of thingfor my voyage. It will not do at any price," said my uncle, veryimpressively. Having repeated this, several times, he recovered hisbalance with some difficulty--for he was rather giddy with looking upinto the sky so long--and walked merrily on.

  'The bailie's house was in the Canongate, and my uncle was going to theother end of Leith Walk, rather better than a mile's journey. On eitherside of him, there shot up against the dark sky, tall, gaunt, stragglinghouses, with time-stained fronts, and windows that seemed to have sharedthe lot of eyes in mortals, and to have grown dim and sunken with age.Six, seven, eight storey high, were the houses; storey piled uponstorey, as children build with cards--throwing their dark shadows overthe roughly paved road, and making the dark night darker. A few oillamps were scattered at long distances, but they only served to mark thedirty entrance to some narrow close, or to show where a common staircommunicated, by steep and intricate windings, with the various flat
sabove. Glancing at all these things with the air of a man who had seenthem too often before, to think them worthy of much notice now, my unclewalked up the middle of the street, with a thumb in each waistcoatpocket, indulging from time to time in various snatches of song, chantedforth with such good-will and spirit, that the quiet honest folk startedfrom their first sleep and lay trembling in bed till the sound died awayin the distance; when, satisfying themselves that it was only somedrunken ne'er-do-weel finding his way home, they covered themselves upwarm and fell asleep again.

  'I am particular in describing how my uncle walked up the middle of thestreet, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, gentlemen, because, ashe often used to say (and with great reason too) there is nothing at allextraordinary in this story, unless you distinctly understand at thebeginning, that he was not by any means of a marvellous or romanticturn.

  'Gentlemen, my uncle walked on with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets,taking the middle of the street to himself, and singing, now a verse ofa love song, and then a verse of a drinking one, and when he was tiredof both, whistling melodiously, until he reached the North Bridge,which, at this point, connects the old and new towns of Edinburgh. Herehe stopped for a minute, to look at the strange, irregular clusters oflights piled one above the other, and twinkling afar off so high, thatthey looked like stars, gleaming from the castle walls on the one sideand the Calton Hill on the other, as if they illuminated veritablecastles in the air; while the old picturesque town slept heavily on, ingloom and darkness below: its palace and chapel of Holyrood, guarded dayand night, as a friend of my uncle's used to say, by old Arthur's Seat,towering, surly and dark, like some gruff genius, over the ancient cityhe has watched so long. I say, gentlemen, my uncle stopped here, for aminute, to look about him; and then, paying a compliment to the weather,which had a little cleared up, though the moon was sinking, walked onagain, as royally as before; keeping the middle of the road with greatdignity, and looking as if he would very much like to meet with somebodywho would dispute possession of it with him. There was nobody at alldisposed to contest the point, as it happened; and so, on he went, withhis thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, like a lamb.

  'When my uncle reached the end of Leith Walk, he had to cross a prettylarge piece of waste ground which separated him from a short streetwhich he had to turn down to go direct to his lodging. Now, in thispiece of waste ground, there was, at that time, an enclosure belongingto some wheelwright who contracted with the Post Office for the purchaseof old, worn-out mail coaches; and my uncle, being very fond of coaches,old, young, or middle-aged, all at once took it into his head to stepout of his road for no other purpose than to peep between the palings atthese mails--about a dozen of which he remembered to have seen, crowdedtogether in a very forlorn and dismantled state, inside. My uncle was avery enthusiastic, emphatic sort of person, gentlemen; so, finding thathe could not obtain a good peep between the palings he got over them,and sitting himself quietly down on an old axle-tree, began tocontemplate the mail coaches with a deal of gravity.

  'There might be a dozen of them, or there might be more--my uncle wasnever quite certain on this point, and being a man of very scrupulousveracity about numbers, didn't like to say--but there they stood, allhuddled together in the most desolate condition imaginable. The doorshad been torn from their hinges and removed; the linings had beenstripped off, only a shred hanging here and there by a rusty nail; thelamps were gone, the poles had long since vanished, the ironwork wasrusty, the paint was worn away; the wind whistled through the chinks inthe bare woodwork; and the rain, which had collected on the roofs, fell,drop by drop, into the insides with a hollow and melancholy sound. Theywere the decaying skeletons of departed mails, and in that lonely place,at that time of night, they looked chill and dismal.

  'My uncle rested his head upon his hands, and thought of the busy,bustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the old coaches,and were now as silent and changed; he thought of the numbers of peopleto whom one of these crazy, mouldering vehicles had borne, night afternight, for many years, and through all weathers, the anxiously expectedintelligence, the eagerly looked-for remittance, the promised assuranceof health and safety, the sudden announcement of sickness and death. Themerchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the school-boy,the very child who tottered to the door at the postman's knock--how hadthey all looked forward to the arrival of the old coach. And where werethey all now?

  'Gentlemen, my uncle used to _say _that he thought all this at the time,but I rather suspect he learned it out of some book afterwards, for hedistinctly stated that he fell into a kind of doze, as he sat on the oldaxle-tree looking at the decayed mail coaches, and that he was suddenlyawakened by some deep church bell striking two. Now, my uncle was nevera fast thinker, and if he had thought all these things, I am quitecertain it would have taken him till full half-past two o'clock at thevery least. I am, therefore, decidedly of opinion, gentlemen, that myuncle fell into a kind of doze, without having thought about anything atall.

  'Be this as it may, a church bell struck two. My uncle woke, rubbed hiseyes, and jumped up in astonishment.

  'In one instant, after the clock struck two, the whole of this desertedand quiet spot had become a scene of most extraordinary life andanimation. The mail coach doors were on their hinges, the lining wasreplaced, the ironwork was as good as new, the paint was restored, thelamps were alight; cushions and greatcoats were on every coach-box,porters were thrusting parcels into every boot, guards were stowing awayletter-bags, hostlers were dashing pails of water against the renovatedwheels; numbers of men were pushing about, fixing poles into everycoach; passengers arrived, portmanteaus were handed up, horses were putto; in short, it was perfectly clear that every mail there, was to beoff directly. Gentlemen, my uncle opened his eyes so wide at all this,that, to the very last moment of his life, he used to wonder how it fellout that he had ever been able to shut 'em again.

  '"Now then!" said a voice, as my uncle felt a hand on his shoulder,"you're booked for one inside. You'd better get in."

  '"I booked!" said my uncle, turning round.

  '"Yes, certainly."

  'My uncle, gentlemen, could say nothing, he was so very much astonished.The queerest thing of all was that although there was such a crowd ofpersons, and although fresh faces were pouring in, every moment, therewas no telling where they came from. They seemed to start up, in somestrange manner, from the ground, or the air, and disappear in the sameway. When a porter had put his luggage in the coach, and received hisfare, he turned round and was gone; and before my uncle had well begunto wonder what had become of him, half a dozen fresh ones started up,and staggered along under the weight of parcels, which seemed big enoughto crush them. The passengers were all dressed so oddly too! Large,broad-skirted laced coats, with great cuffs and no collars; and wigs,gentlemen--great formal wigs with a tie behind. My uncle could makenothing of it.

  '"Now, are you going to get in?" said the person who had addressed myuncle before. He was dressed as a mail guard, with a wig on his head andmost enormous cuffs to his coat, and had a lantern in one hand, and ahuge blunderbuss in the other, which he was going to stow away in hislittle arm-chest. "_are _you going to get in, Jack Martin?" said theguard, holding the lantern to my uncle's face.

  '"Hollo!" said my uncle, falling back a step or two. "That's familiar!"

  '"It's so on the way-bill," said the guard.

  '"Isn't there a 'Mister' before it?" said my uncle. For he felt,gentlemen, that for a guard he didn't know, to call him Jack Martin, wasa liberty which the Post Office wouldn't have sanctioned if they hadknown it.

  '"No, there is not," rejoined the guard coolly.

  '"Is the fare paid?" inquired my uncle.

  '"Of course it is," rejoined the guard.

  '"It is, is it?" said my uncle. "Then here goes! Which coach?"

  '"This," said the guard, pointing to an old-fashioned Edinburgh andLondon mail, which had the steps down and the door open. "Stop! Here are
the other passengers. Let them get in first."

  'As the guard spoke, there all at once appeared, right in front of myuncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig, and a sky-blue coat trimmedwith silver, made very full and broad in the skirts, which were linedwith buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in the printed calico and waistcoatpiece line, gentlemen, so my uncle knew all the materials at once. Hewore knee breeches, and a kind of leggings rolled up over his silkstockings, and shoes with buckles; he had ruffles at his wrists, athree-cornered hat on his head, and a long taper sword by his side. Theflaps of his waist-coat came half-way down his thighs, and the ends ofhis cravat reached to his waist. He stalked gravely to the coach door,pulled off his hat, and held it above his head at arm's length, cockinghis little finger in the air at the same time, as some affected peopledo, when they take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together, andmade a low, grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My uncle was justgoing to step forward, and shake it heartily, when he perceived thatthese attentions were directed, not towards him, but to a young lady whojust then appeared at the foot of the steps, attired in an old-fashionedgreen velvet dress with a long waist and stomacher. She had no bonnet onher head, gentlemen, which was muffled in a black silk hood, but shelooked round for an instant as she prepared to get into the coach, andsuch a beautiful face as she disclosed, my uncle had never seen--noteven in a picture. She got into the coach, holding up her dress with onehand; and as my uncle always said with a round oath, when he told thestory, he wouldn't have believed it possible that legs and feet couldhave been brought to such a state of perfection unless he had seen themwith his own eyes.

  'But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw that theyoung lady cast an imploring look upon him, and that she appearedterrified and distressed. He noticed, too, that the young fellow in thepowdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry, which was all veryfine and grand, clasped her tight by the wrist when she got in, andfollowed himself immediately afterwards. An uncommonly ill-lookingfellow, in a close brown wig, and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a verylarge sword, and boots up to his hips, belonged to the party; and whenhe sat himself down next to the young lady, who shrank into a corner athis approach, my uncle was confirmed in his original impression thatsomething dark and mysterious was going forward, or, as he always saidhimself, that "there was a screw loose somewhere." It's quite surprisinghow quickly he made up his mind to help the lady at any peril, if sheneeded any help.

  '"Death and lightning!" exclaimed the young gentleman, laying his handupon his sword as my uncle entered the coach.

  '"Blood and thunder!" roared the other gentleman. With this, he whippedhis sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle without further ceremony. Myuncle had no weapon about him, but with great dexterity he snatched theill-looking gentleman's three-cornered hat from his head, and, receivingthe point of his sword right through the crown, squeezed the sidestogether, and held it tight.

  '"Pink him behind!" cried the ill-looking gentleman to his companion, ashe struggled to regain his sword.

  '"He had better not," cried my uncle, displaying the heel of one of hisshoes, in a threatening manner. "I'll kick his brains out, if he hasany--, or fracture his skull if he hasn't." Exerting all his strength,at this moment, my uncle wrenched the ill-looking man's sword from hisgrasp, and flung it clean out of the coach window, upon which theyounger gentleman vociferated, "Death and lightning!" again, and laidhis hand upon the hilt of his sword, in a very fierce manner, but didn'tdraw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, as my uncle used to say with a smile,perhaps he was afraid of alarming the lady.

  '"Now, gentlemen," said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately, "I don'twant to have any death, with or without lightning, in a lady's presence,and we have had quite blood and thundering enough for one journey; so,if you please, we'll sit in our places like quiet insides. Here, guard,pick up that gentleman's carving-knife."

  'As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared at the coachwindow, with the gentleman's sword in his hand. He held up his lantern,and looked earnestly in my uncle's face, as he handed it in, when, byits light, my uncle saw, to his great surprise, that an immense crowd ofmail-coach guards swarmed round the window, every one of whom had hiseyes earnestly fixed upon him too. He had never seen such a sea of whitefaces, red bodies, and earnest eyes, in all his born days.

  '"This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to do with,"thought my uncle; "allow me to return you your hat, sir."

  'The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat in silence,looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air, and finallystuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the effect of which wasa trifle impaired by his sneezing violently at the moment, and jerkingit off again.

  '"All right!" cried the guard with the lantern, mounting into his littleseat behind. Away they went. My uncle peeped out of the coach window asthey emerged from the yard, and observed that the other mails, withcoachmen, guards, horses, and passengers, complete, were driving roundand round in circles, at a slow trot of about five miles an hour. Myuncle burned with indignation, gentlemen. As a commercial man, he feltthat the mail-bags were not to be trifled with, and he resolved tomemorialise the Post Office on the subject, the very instant he reachedLondon.

  'At present, however, his thoughts were occupied with the young lady whosat in the farthest corner of the coach, with her face muffled closelyin her hood; the gentleman with the sky-blue coat sitting opposite toher; the other man in the plum-coloured suit, by her side; and bothwatching her intently. If she so much as rustled the folds of her hood,he could hear the ill-looking man clap his hand upon his sword, andcould tell by the other's breathing (it was so dark he couldn't see hisface) that he was looking as big as if he were going to devour her at amouthful. This roused my uncle more and more, and he resolved, come whatmight, to see the end of it. He had a great admiration for bright eyes,and sweet faces, and pretty legs and feet; in short, he was fond of thewhole sex. It runs in our family, gentleman--so am I.

  'Many were the devices which my uncle practised, to attract the lady'sattention, or at all events, to engage the mysterious gentlemen inconversation. They were all in vain; the gentlemen wouldn't talk, andthe lady didn't dare. He thrust his head out of the coach window atintervals, and bawled out to know why they didn't go faster. But hecalled till he was hoarse; nobody paid the least attention to him. Heleaned back in the coach, and thought of the beautiful face, and thefeet and legs. This answered better; it whiled away the time, and kepthim from wondering where he was going, and how it was that he foundhimself in such an odd situation. Not that this would have worried himmuch, anyway--he was a mighty free and easy, roving, devil-may-care sortof person, was my uncle, gentlemen.

  'All of a sudden the coach stopped. "Hollo!" said my uncle, "what's inthe wind now?"

  '"Alight here," said the guard, letting down the steps.

  '"Here!" cried my uncle.

  '"Here," rejoined the guard.

  '"I'll do nothing of the sort," said my uncle.

  '"Very well, then stop where you are," said the guard.

  '"I will," said my uncle.

  '"Do," said the guard.

  'The passengers had regarded this colloquy with great attention, and,finding that my uncle was determined not to alight, the younger mansqueezed past him, to hand the lady out. At this moment, the ill-lookingman was inspecting the hole in the crown of his three-cornered hat. Asthe young lady brushed past, she dropped one of her gloves into myuncle's hand, and softly whispered, with her lips so close to his facethat he felt her warm breath on his nose, the single word "Help!"Gentlemen, my uncle leaped out of the coach at once, with such violencethat it rocked on the springs again.

  '"Oh! you've thought better of it, have you?" said the guard, when hesaw my uncle standing on the ground.

  'My uncle looked at the guard for a few seconds, in some doubt whetherit wouldn't be better to wrench his blunderbuss from him, fire it in theface of the man with the big s
word, knock the rest of the company overthe head with the stock, snatch up the young lady, and go off in thesmoke. On second thoughts, however, he abandoned this plan, as being ashade too melodramatic in the execution, and followed the two mysteriousmen, who, keeping the lady between them, were now entering an old housein front of which the coach had stopped. They turned into the passage,and my uncle followed.

  'Of all the ruinous and desolate places my uncle had ever beheld, thiswas the most so. It looked as if it had once been a large house ofentertainment; but the roof had fallen in, in many places, and thestairs were steep, rugged, and broken. There was a huge fireplace in theroom into which they walked, and the chimney was blackened with smoke;but no warm blaze lighted it up now. The white feathery dust of burnedwood was still strewed over the hearth, but the stove was cold, and allwas dark and gloomy.

  '"Well," said my uncle, as he looked about him, "a mail travelling atthe rate of six miles and a half an hour, and stopping for an indefinitetime at such a hole as this, is rather an irregular sort of proceeding,I fancy. This shall be made known. I'll write to the papers."

  'My uncle said this in a pretty loud voice, and in an open, unreservedsort of manner, with the view of engaging the two strangers inconversation if he could. But, neither of them took any more notice ofhim than whispering to each other, and scowling at him as they did so.The lady was at the farther end of the room, and once she ventured towave her hand, as if beseeching my uncle's assistance.

  'At length the two strangers advanced a little, and the conversationbegan in earnest.

  '"You don't know this is a private room, I suppose, fellow?" said thegentleman in sky-blue.

  '"No, I do not, fellow," rejoined my uncle. "Only, if this is a privateroom specially ordered for the occasion, I should think the public roommust be a _very _comfortable one;" with this, my uncle sat himself downin a high-backed chair, and took such an accurate measure of thegentleman, with his eyes, that Tiggin and Welps could have supplied himwith printed calico for a suit, and not an inch too much or too little,from that estimate alone.

  '"Quit this room," said both men together, grasping their swords.

  '"Eh?" said my uncle, not at all appearing to comprehend their meaning.

  '"Quit the room, or you are a dead man," said the ill-looking fellowwith the large sword, drawing it at the same time and flourishing it inthe air.

  '"Down with him!" cried the gentleman in sky-blue, drawing his swordalso, and falling back two or three yards. "Down with him!" The ladygave a loud scream.

  'Now, my uncle was always remarkable for great boldness, and greatpresence of mind. All the time that he had appeared so indifferent towhat was going on, he had been looking slily about for some missile orweapon of defence, and at the very instant when the swords were drawn,he espied, standing in the chimney-corner, an old basket-hilted rapierin a rusty scabbard. At one bound, my uncle caught it in his hand, drewit, flourished it gallantly above his head, called aloud to the lady tokeep out of the way, hurled the chair at the man in sky-blue, and thescabbard at the man in plum-colour, and taking advantage of theconfusion, fell upon them both, pell-mell.

  'Gentlemen, there is an old story--none the worse for being true--regarding a fine young Irish gentleman, who being asked if he could playthe fiddle, replied he had no doubt he could, but he couldn't exactlysay, for certain, because he had never tried. This is not inapplicableto my uncle and his fencing. He had never had a sword in his handbefore, except once when he played Richard the Third at a privatetheatre, upon which occasion it was arranged with Richmond that he wasto be run through, from behind, without showing fight at all. But herehe was, cutting and slashing with two experienced swordsman, thrusting,and guarding, and poking, and slicing, and acquitting himself in themost manful and dexterous manner possible, although up to that time hehad never been aware that he had the least notion of the science. Itonly shows how true the old saying is, that a man never knows what hecan do till he tries, gentlemen.

  'The noise of the combat was terrific; each of the three combatantsswearing like troopers, and their swords clashing with as much noise asif all the knives and steels in Newport market were rattling together,at the same time. When it was at its very height, the lady (to encouragemy uncle most probably) withdrew her hood entirely from her face, anddisclosed a countenance of such dazzling beauty, that he would havefought against fifty men, to win one smile from it and die. He had donewonders before, but now he began to powder away like a raving mad giant.

  'At this very moment, the gentleman in sky-blue turning round, andseeing the young lady with her face uncovered, vented an exclamation ofrage and jealousy, and, turning his weapon against her beautiful bosom,pointed a thrust at her heart, which caused my uncle to utter a cry ofapprehension that made the building ring. The lady stepped lightlyaside, and snatching the young man's sword from his hand, before he hadrecovered his balance, drove him to the wall, and running it throughhim, and the panelling, up to the very hilt, pinned him there, hard andfast. It was a splendid example. My uncle, with a loud shout of triumph,and a strength that was irresistible, made his adversary retreat in thesame direction, and plunging the old rapier into the very centre of alarge red flower in the pattern of his waistcoat, nailed him beside hisfriend; there they both stood, gentlemen, jerking their arms and legsabout in agony, like the toy-shop figures that are moved by a piece ofpack-thread. My uncle always said, afterwards, that this was one of thesurest means he knew of, for disposing of an enemy; but it was liable toone objection on the ground of expense, inasmuch as it involved the lossof a sword for every man disabled.

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

  '"May!" cried my uncle; "why, my dear, there's nobody else to kill, isthere?" My uncle was rather disappointed, gentlemen, for he thought alittle quiet bit of love-making would be agreeable after theslaughtering, 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 only son of thepowerful Marquess of Filletoville."

  '"Well then, my dear, I'm afraid he'll never come to the title," said myuncle, looking coolly at the young gentleman as he stood fixed upagainst the wall, in the cockchafer fashion that I have described. "Youhave cut off the entail, my love."

  '"I have been torn from my home and my friends by these villains," saidthe young lady, her features glowing with indignation. "That wretchwould have married me by violence in another hour."

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

  '"As you may guess from what you have seen," said the young lady, "theparty were prepared to murder me if I appealed to any one forassistance. If their accomplices find us here, we are lost. Two minuteshence may be too late. The mail!" With these words, overpowered by herfeelings, and the exertion of sticking the young Marquess ofFilletoville, she sank into my uncle's arms. My uncle caught her up, andbore her to the house door. There stood the mail, with four long-tailed,flowing-maned, black horses, ready harnessed; but no coachman, no guard,no hostler even, at the horses' heads.

  'Gentlemen, I hope I do no injustice to my uncle's memory, when Iexpress my opinion, that although he was a bachelor, he had held someladies in his arms before this time; I believe, indeed, that he hadrather a habit of kissing barmaids; and I know, that in one or twoinstances, he had been seen by credible witnesses, to hug a landlady ina very perceptible manner. I mention the circumstance, to show what avery uncommon sort of person this beautiful young lady must have been,to have affected my uncle in the way she did; he used to say, that asher long dark hair trailed over his arm, and her beautiful dark eyesfixed themselves upon his face when she recovered, he felt so strangeand nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. But who can look in asweet, soft pair of dark eyes, without feeling queer? I can't,gentlemen. I am afraid to look at some eyes I know, and th
at's the truthof 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, bravepreserver!"

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

  '"'Why?" inquired the young lady.

  '"Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak," rejoined myuncle, "that I'm afraid I shall be rude enough to kiss it."

  'The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle not to do so,and said--No, she didn't say anything--she smiled. When you are lookingat a pair of the most delicious lips in the world, and see them gentlybreak into a roguish smile--if you are very near them, and nobody elseby--you cannot better testify your admiration of their beautiful formand colour than by kissing them at once. My uncle did so, and I honourhim for it.

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

  '"So it is," said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear for wheels, andthe trampling of hoofs; but there appeared to be so many horses andcarriages rattling towards them, from a distance, that it was impossibleto form a guess at their number. The sound was like that of fiftybrakes, with six blood cattle in each.

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

  'There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face, that myuncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into the coach, told hernot to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers once more, and thenadvising her to draw up the window to keep the cold air out, mounted tothe 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 oneword, dearest."

  '"Must I get down?" inquired my uncle. The lady made no answer, but shesmiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen! It beat the other one, all tonothing. My uncle descended from his perch in a twinkling.

  '"What is it, my dear?" said my uncle, looking in at the coach window.The lady happened to bend forward at the same time, and my uncle thoughtshe looked more beautiful than she had done yet. He was very close toher just then, gentlemen, so he really ought to know.

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

  '"Will you never love any one but me--never marry any one beside?" saidthe young lady.

  'My uncle swore a great oath that he never would marry anybody else, andthe young lady drew in her head, and pulled up the window. He jumpedupon the box, squared his elbows, adjusted the ribands, seized the whipwhich lay on the roof, gave one flick to the off leader, and away wentthe four long-tailed, flowing-maned black horses, at fifteen goodEnglish miles an hour, with the old mail-coach behind them. Whew! Howthey tore along!

  'The noise behind grew louder. The faster the old mail went, the fastercame the pursuers--men, horses, dogs, were leagued in the pursuit. Thenoise 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 ahurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects of every kindthey shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaring waters suddenly letloose. But still the noise of pursuit grew louder, and still my unclecould hear the young lady wildly screaming, "Faster! Faster!"

  'My uncle plied whip and rein, and the horses flew onward till they werewhite with foam; and yet the noise behind increased; and yet the younglady cried, "Faster! Faster!" My uncle gave a loud stamp on the boot inthe energy of the moment, and--found that it was gray morning, and hewas sitting in the wheelwright's yard, on the box of an old Edinburghmail, shivering with the cold and wet and stamping his feet to warmthem! He got down, and looked eagerly inside for the beautiful younglady. Alas! There was neither door nor seat to the coach. It was a mereshell.

  'Of course, my uncle knew very well that there was some mystery in thematter, and that everything had passed exactly as he used to relate it.He remained staunch to the great oath he had sworn to the beautifulyoung lady, refusing several eligible landladies on her account, anddying a bachelor at last. He always said what a curious thing it wasthat he should have found out, by such a mere accident as his clamberingover the palings, that the ghosts of mail-coaches and horses, guards,coachmen, and passengers, were in the habit of making journeys regularlyevery night. He used to add, that he believed he was the only livingperson who had ever been taken as a passenger on one of theseexcursions. And I think he was right, gentlemen--at least I never heardof any other.'

  'I wonder what these ghosts of mail-coaches carry in their bags,' saidthe landlord, who had listened to the whole story with profoundattention.

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

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