'It's odd enough, certainly, Sam,' said Mr Pickwick; 'but if we stand

talking here, we shall lose our places.'

'Wot, ain't nothin' to be done in consequence, sir?' exclaimed Sam,

perfectly aghast at the coolness with which Mr Pickwick prepared to

ensconce himself inside.

'Done!' said Mr Pickwick. 'What should be done?' 'Ain't nobody to be

whopped for takin' this here liberty, sir?' said Mr Weller, who had

expected that at least he would have been commissioned to challenge

the guard and the coachman to a pugilistic encounter on the spot.

Certainly not,' replied Mr Pickwick eagerly; 'not on any account.

Jump up to your seat directly.'

I am wery much afeered,' muttered Sam to himself, as he turned

away, 'that somethin' queer's come over the governor, or he'd never

ha' stood this so quiet. I hope that 'ere trial hasn't broke his spirit, but

it looks bad, wery bad.' Mr Weller shook his head gravely; and it is

worthy of remark, as an illustration of the manner in which he took

this circumstance to heart, that he did not speak another word until

the coach reached the Kensington turnpike. Which was so long a time

for him to remain taciturn, that the fact may be considered wholly

unprecedented.

Nothing worthy of special mention occurred during the journey. Mr

Dowler related a variety of anecdotes, all illustrative of his own

personal prowess and desperation, and appealed to Mrs. Dowler in

corroboration thereof; when Mrs. Dowler invariably brought in, in the

form of an appendix, some remarkable fact or circumstance which Mr

Dowler had forgotten, or had perhaps through modesty, omitted; for

the addenda in every instance went to show that Mr Dowler was even

a more wonderful fellow than he made himself out to be. Mr Pickwick

and Mr Winkle listened with great admiration, and at intervals

conversed with Mrs. Dowler, who was a very agreeable and fascinating

person. So, what between Mr Dowler's stories, and Mrs. Dowler's

charms, and Mr Pickwick's good-humour, and Mr Winkle's good

listening, the insides contrived to be very companionable all the way.

The outsides did as outsides always do. They were very cheerful and

talkative at the beginning of every stage, and very dismal and sleepy in

the middle, and very bright and wakeful again towards the end. There

was one young gentleman in an India-rubber cloak, who smoked

cigars all day; and there was another young gentleman in a parody

upon a greatcoat, who lighted a good many, and feeling obviously

unsettled after the second whiff, threw them away when he thought

nobody was looking at him. There was a third young man on the box

who wished to be learned in cattle; and an old one behind, who was

familiar with farming. There was a constant succession of Christian

The Pickwick Papers