would otherwise have experienced was materially damped as they

reflected on the singularity of their appearance, and the absurdity of

their situation. Torn clothes, lacerated faces, dusty shoes, exhausted

looks, and, above all, the horse. Oh, how Mr Pickwick cursed that

horse: he had eyed the noble animal from time to time with looks

expressive of hatred and revenge; more than once he had calculated

the probable amount of the expense he would incur by cutting his

throat; and now the temptation to destroy him, or to cast him loose

upon the world, rushed upon his mind with tenfold force. He was

roused from a meditation on these dire imaginings by the sudden

appearance of two figures at a turn of the lane. It was Mr Wardle, and

his faithful attendant, the fat boy.

Why, where have you been ?' said the hospitable old gentleman; 'I've

been waiting for you all day. Well, you DO look tired. What! Scratches!

Not hurt, I hope - eh? Well, I AM glad to hear that - very. So you've

been spilt, eh? Never mind. Common accident in these parts. Joe -

he's asleep again! - Joe, take that horse from the gentlemen, and lead

it into the stable.'

The fat boy sauntered heavily behind them with the animal; and the

old gentleman, condoling with his guests in homely phrase on so

much of the day's adventures as they thought proper to communicate,

led the way to the kitchen.

We'll have you put to rights here,' said the old gentleman, 'and then

I'll introduce you to the people in the parlour. Emma, bring out the

cherry brandy; now, Jane, a needle and thread here; towels and water,

Mary. Come, girls, bustle about.'

Three or four buxom girls speedily dispersed in search of the different

articles in requisition, while a couple of large-headed, circular-visaged

males rose from their seats in the chimney- corner (for although it was

a May evening their attachment to the wood fire appeared as cordial

as if it were Christmas), and dived into some obscure recesses, from

which they speedily produced a bottle of blacking, and some half-

dozen brushes.

Bustle!' said the old gentleman again, but the admonition was quite

unnecessary, for one of the girls poured out the cherry brandy, and

another brought in the towels, and one of the men suddenly seizing

Mr Pickwick by the leg, at imminent hazard of throwing him off his

balance, brushed away at his boot till his corns were red-hot; while

the other shampooed Mr Winkle with a heavy clothes-brush,

indulging, during the operation, in that hissing sound which hostlers

are wont to produce when engaged in rubbing down a horse.

The Pickwick Papers