The Pickwick Papers


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So long as their progress was confined to the streets of Bristol, the  
facetious Bob kept his professional green spectacles on, and  
conducted himself with becoming steadiness and gravity of  
demeanour; merely giving utterance to divers verbal witticisms for the  
exclusive behoof and entertainment of Mr Samuel Weller. But when  
they emerged on the open road, he threw off his green spectacles and  
his gravity together, and performed a great variety of practical jokes,  
which were calculated to attract the attention of the passersby, and to  
render the carriage and those it contained objects of more than  
ordinary curiosity; the least conspicuous among these feats being a  
most vociferous imitation of a key-bugle, and the ostentatious display  
of a crimson silk pocket-handkerchief attached to a walking-stick,  
which was occasionally waved in the air with various gestures  
indicative of supremacy and defiance.  
'
I wonder,' said Mr Pickwick, stopping in the midst of a most sedate  
conversation with Ben Allen, bearing reference to the numerous good  
qualities of Mr Winkle and his sister - 'I wonder what all the people we  
pass, can see in us to make them stare so.'  
'It's a neat turn-out,' replied Ben Allen, with something of pride in his  
tone. 'They're not used to see this sort of thing, every day, I dare say.'  
'
Possibly,' replied Mr Pickwick. 'It may be so. Perhaps it is.'  
Mr Pickwick might very probably have reasoned himself into the belief  
that it really was, had he not, just then happening to look out of the  
coach window, observed that the looks of the passengers betokened  
anything but respectful astonishment, and that various telegraphic  
communications appeared to be passing between them and some  
persons outside the vehicle, whereupon it occurred to him that these  
demonstrations might be, in some remote degree, referable to the  
humorous deportment of Mr Robert Sawyer.  
'I hope,' said Mr Pickwick, 'that our volatile friend is committing no  
absurdities in that dickey behind.'  
'Oh dear, no,' replied Ben Allen. 'Except when he's elevated, Bob's the  
quietest creature breathing.'  
Here a prolonged imitation of a key-bugle broke upon the ear,  
succeeded by cheers and screams, all of which evidently proceeded  
from the throat and lungs of the quietest creature breathing, or in  
plainer designation, of Mr Bob Sawyer himself.  
Mr Pickwick and Mr Ben Allen looked expressively at each other, and  
the former gentleman taking off his hat, and leaning out of the coach  


Page
689 690 691 692 693

Quick Jump
1 198 396 594 792