miraculous. They searched every nook and corner round, together and

separately; they shouted, whistled, laughed, called - and all with the

same result. Mr Pickwick was not to be found. After some hours of

fruitless search, they arrived at the unwelcome conclusion that they

must go home without him.

Meanwhile Mr Pickwick had been wheeled to the pound, and safely

deposited therein, fast asleep in the wheel-barrow, to the

immeasurable delight and satisfaction not only of all the boys in the

village, but three-fourths of the whole population, who had gathered

round, in expectation of his waking. If their most intense gratification

had been awakened by seeing him wheeled in, how many hundredfold

was their joy increased when, after a few indistinct cries of 'Sam!' he

sat up in the barrow, and gazed with indescribable astonishment on

the faces before him.

A general shout was of course the signal of his having woke up; and

his involuntary inquiry of 'What's the matter?' occasioned another,

louder than the first, if possible.

'Here's a game!' roared the populace.

'Where am I?' exclaimed Mr Pickwick.

'In the pound,' replied the mob.

How came I here? What was I doing? Where was I brought from?'

Boldwig! Captain Boldwig!' was the only reply.

'Let me out,' cried Mr Pickwick. 'Where's my servant? Where are my

friends?'

You ain't got no friends. Hurrah!' Then there came a turnip, then a

potato, and then an egg; with a few other little tokens of the playful

disposition of the many-headed.

How long this scene might have lasted, or how much Mr Pickwick

might have suffered, no one can tell, had not a carriage, which was

driving swiftly by, suddenly pulled up, from whence there descended

old Wardle and Sam Weller, the former of whom, in far less time than

it takes to write it, if not to read it, had made his way to Mr Pickwick's

side, and placed him in the vehicle, just as the latter had concluded

the third and last round of a single combat with the town-beadle.

Run to the justice's!' cried a dozen voices.

Ah, run avay,' said Mr Weller, jumping up on the box. 'Give my

compliments - Mr Veller's compliments - to the justice, and tell him

The Pickwick Papers