Chapter XVI

Too Full Of Adventure To Be Briefly Described

There is no month in the whole year in which nature wears a more

beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many

beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of

this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter

season. August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember

nothing but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers -

when the recollection of snow, and ice, and bleak winds, has faded

from our minds as completely as they have disappeared from the

earth - and yet what a pleasant time it is! Orchards and cornfields

ring with the hum of labour; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of

rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn, piled

in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above

it, as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue. A

mellow softness appears to hang over the whole earth; the influence of

the season seems to extend itself to the very wagon, whose slow

motion across the well-reaped field is perceptible only to the eye, but

strikes with no harsh sound upon the ear.

As the coach rolls swiftly past the fields and orchards which skirt the

road, groups of women and children, piling the fruit in sieves, or

gathering the scattered ears of corn, pause for an instant from their

labour, and shading the sun-burned face with a still browner hand,

gaze upon the passengers with curious eyes, while some stout urchin,

too small to work, but too mischievous to be left at home, scrambles

over the side of the basket in which he has been deposited for

security, and kicks and screams with delight. The reaper stops in his

work, and stands with folded arms, looking at the vehicle as it whirls

past; and the rough cart- horses bestow a sleepy glance upon the

smart coach team, which says as plainly as a horse's glance can, 'It's

all very fine to look at, but slow going, over a heavy field, is better than

warm work like that, upon a dusty road, after all.' You cast a look

behind you, as you turn a corner of the road. The women and children

have resumed their labour; the reaper once more stoops to his work;

the cart-horses have moved on; and all are again in motion. The

influence of a scene like this, was not lost upon the well- regulated

mind of Mr Pickwick. Intent upon the resolution he had formed, of

exposing the real character of the nefarious Jingle, in any quarter in

which he might be pursuing his fraudulent designs, he sat at first

taciturn and contemplative, brooding over the means by which his

purpose could be best attained. By degrees his attention grew more

and more attracted by the objects around him; and at last he derived

as much enjoyment from the ride, as if it had been undertaken for the

pleasantest reason in the world.

The Pickwick Papers