Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/626

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POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLUB
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524 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

instant as she prepared to get into the coach, and such a beautiful face as she discovered my uncle had never seen — not even in a pic- ture. She got into the coach, holding up her dress with one hand, and as my uncle always said with a round oath, when he told the story, he wouldn't have believed it possible that legs and feet could have been brought to such a state of perfection unless he had seen them with his own eyes.

'^But in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw that the young lady had cast an imploring look upon him, and that she appeared terriJied and distressed. He noticed too, that the young fellow in the powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry, which was all very fine and grand, clasped her tight by the wrist when she got in, and followed himself immediately afterwards. An uncom- monly ill-looking fellow in a close brown wig, and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a very large sword and boots up to his hips, belonged to the party ; and when he sat himself down next to the young lady, who shrunk into a corner at his approach, my uncle was confirmed in his original impression that something dark and mysterious was going forward, or, as he always said himself, that ' there was a screw loose somewhere.' It's quite surprising how quickly he made up his mind to help the lady at any peril, if she needed help.

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

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

"'Pink him behind,' cried the ill-looking gentleman to his com- panion, as he struggled to regain his sword.

" ' He had better not,' cried my uncle, displaying the heel of one of his shoes in a threatening manner. ' 1 11 kick his brains out if he has any, 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 his grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach-window, upon which the younger gentleman vociferated 'Death and lightning!' again, and laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword in a very fierce manner, but didn't draw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, as my uncle used to say, with a smile, perhaps he was afraid of alarming the lady.

  • ^ ' ]ow gentlemen,' said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately, *I

don't want 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 coach-window 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 by its light my uncle saw, to his great surprise, that an immense crowd of mail-coach guards swarmed round the