The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 2 (of 2) Page 23

  CHAPTER XXI

  _Containing the Story of the Bagman's Uncle_

  "My uncle, gentlemen," said the bagman, "was one of the merriest,pleasantest, cleverest fellows that ever lived. I wish you had knownhim, gentlemen. On second thoughts, gentlemen, I _don't_ wish you hadknown him, for if you had, you would have been all, by this time, inthe ordinary course of nature, if not dead, at all events so near it,as to have taken to stopping at home and giving up company: which wouldhave deprived me of the inestimable pleasure of addressing you at thismoment. Gentlemen, I wish your fathers and mothers had known my uncle.They would have been amazingly fond of him, especially your respectablemothers; I know they would. If any two of his numerous virtuespredominated over the many that adorned his character, I should saythey were his mixed punch and his after-supper song. Excuse my dwellingon these melancholy reflections of departed worth; you won't see a manlike my uncle every day in the week.

  "I have always considered it a great point in my uncle's character,gentlemen, that he was the intimate friend and companion of Tom Smart,of the great house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, City. My unclecollected for Tiggin and Welps, but for a long time he went prettynear the same journey as Tom; and the very first night they met, myuncle took a fancy for Tom, and Tom took a fancy for my uncle. Theymade a bet of a new hat before they had known each other half an hour,who should brew the best quart of punch and drink it the quickest. Myuncle was judged to have won the making, but Tom Smart beat him inthe drinking by about half a salt-spoonful. They took another quarta-piece to drink each other's health in, and were staunch friends everafterwards. There's a destiny in these things, gentlemen: we can't helpit.

  "In personal appearance, my uncle was a trifle shorter than the middlesize; he was a thought stouter, too, than the ordinary run of people,and perhaps his face might be a shade redder. He had the jolliestface you ever saw, gentlemen: something like Punch, with a handsomernose and chin; his eyes were always twinkling and sparkling with goodhumour; and a smile--not one of your unmeaning wooden grins, but areal, merry, hearty, good-tempered smile--was perpetually on hiscountenance. He was pitched out of his gig once, and knocked, headfirst, against a mile-stone. There he lay, stunned, and so cut aboutthe face with some gravel which had been heaped up alongside it, that,to use my uncle's own strong expression, if his mother could haverevisited the earth, she wouldn't have known him. Indeed, when I cometo think of the matter, gentlemen, I feel pretty sure she wouldn't,for she died when my uncle was two years and seven months old, and Ithink it's very likely that, even without the gravel, his top-bootswould have puzzled the good lady not a little: to say nothing of hisjolly red face. However, there he lay, and I have heard my uncle saymany a time, that the man said who picked him up that he was smilingas merrily as if he had tumbled out for a treat, and that after theyhad bled him, the first glimmerings of returning animation were, hisjumping up in bed, bursting out into a loud laugh, kissing the youngwoman who held the basin, and demanding a mutton chop and a pickledwalnut. He was very fond of pickled walnuts, gentlemen. He said healways found that, taken without vinegar, they relished the beer.

  "My uncle's great journey was in the fall of the leaf, at which time hecollected debts, and took orders, in the north: going from London toEdinburgh, from Edinburgh to Glasgow, from Glasgow back to Edinburgh,and thence to London by the smack. You are to understand that hissecond visit to Edinburgh was for his own pleasure. He used to go backfor a week, just to look up his old friends; and what with breakfastingwith this one, lunching with that, dining with a third, and suppingwith another, a pretty tight week he used to make of it. I don't knowwhether any of you, gentlemen, ever partook of a real, substantial,hospitable Scotch breakfast, and then went to a slight lunch of abushel of oysters, a dozen or so of bottled ale, and a noggin or twoof whisky to close up with. If you ever did, you will agree with methat it requires a pretty strong head to go out to dinner and supperafterwards.

  "But, bless your hearts and eyebrows, all this sort of thing wasnothing to my uncle! He was so well seasoned that it was mere child'splay. I have heard him say that he could see the Dundee people out, anyday, and walk home afterwards without staggering; and yet the Dundeepeople have as strong heads and as strong punch, gentleman, as you arelikely to meet with, between the poles. I have heard of a Glasgow manand a Dundee man drinking against each other for fifteen hours at asitting. They were both suffocated, as nearly as could be ascertained,at the same moment, but with this trifling exception, gentlemen, theywere not a bit the worse for it.

  "One night, within four-and-twenty hours of the time when he hadsettled to take shipping for London, my uncle supped at the house of avery old friend of his, a Bailie Mac something and four syllables afterit, who lived in the old town of Edinburgh. There were the bailie'swife, and the bailie's three daughters, and the bailie's grown-up son,and three or four stout, bushy eye-browed, canny old Scotch fellows,that the bailie had got together to do honour to my uncle, and help tomake merry. It was a glorious supper. There were kippered salmon, andFinnan haddocks, and a lamb's head, and a haggis--a celebrated Scotchdish, gentlemen, which my uncle used to say always looked to him, whenit came to the table, very much like a cupid's stomach--and a greatmany other things besides, that I forget the names of, but very goodthings notwithstanding. The lassies were pretty and agreeable; thebailie's wife was one of the best creatures that ever lived; and myuncle was in thoroughly good cue. The consequence of which was, thatthe young ladies tittered and giggled, and the old lady laughed outloud, and the bailie and the other old fellows roared till they werered in the face, the whole mortal time. I don't quite recollect howmany tumblers of whisky toddy each man drank after supper; but this Iknow, that about one o'clock in the morning, the bailie's grown-up sonbecame insensible while attempting the first verse of 'Willie brewed apeak o' maut;' and he having been, for half an hour before, the onlyother man visible above the mahogany, it occurred to my uncle that itwas almost time to think about going: especially as drinking had setin at seven o'clock: in order that he might get home at a decent hour.But, thinking it might not be quite polite to go just then, my unclevoted himself into the chair, mixed another glass, rose to propose hisown health, addressed himself in a neat and complimentary speech, anddrank the toast with great enthusiasm. Still nobody woke; so my uncletook a little drop more--neat this time, to prevent the toddy fromdisagreeing with him--and, laying violent hands on his hat, salliedforth into the street.

  "It was a wild, gusty night when my uncle closed the bailie's door, andsettling his hat firmly on his head to prevent the wind from taking it,thrust his hands into his pockets, and looking upward, took a shortsurvey of the state of the weather. The clouds were drifting over themoon at their giddiest speed: at one time wholly obscuring her: atanother, suffering her to burst forth in full splendour and shed herlight on all the subjects around: anon, driving over her again, withincreased velocity, and shrouding everything in darkness. 'Really, thiswon't do,' said my uncle, addressing himself to the weather, as ifhe felt himself personally offended. 'This is not at all the kind ofthing for my voyage. It will not do, at any price,' said my uncle veryimpressively. Having repeated this, several times, he recovered hisbalance with some difficulty--for he was rather giddy with looking upinto the sky so long--and walked merrily on.

  "The bailie's house was in the Canongate, and my uncle was going tothe other end of Leith Walk, rather better than a mile's journey. Oneither side of him, there shot up against the dark sky, tall, gaunt,straggling houses, with time-stained fronts, and windows that seemedto have shared the lot of eyes in mortals, and to have grown dim andsunken with age. Six, seven, eight storeys high, were the houses;storey piled above storey, as the children build with cards--throwingtheir dark shadows over the roughly paved road, and making the darknight darker. A few oil lamps were scattered at long distances, butthey only served to mark the dirty entrance to some narrow close, orto show where a common stair communicated, by steep and intricatewindings, with
the various flats above. Glancing at all these thingswith the air of a man who had seen them too often before, to thinkthem worthy of much notice now, my uncle walked up the middle of thestreet, with a thumb in each waistcoat pocket, indulging from time totime in various snatches of song, chanted forth with such good willand spirit, that the quiet honest folk started from their first sleepand lay trembling in bed till the sound died away in the distance;when, satisfying themselves that it was only some drunken ne'er-do-weelfinding his way home, they covered themselves up warm and fell asleepagain.

  "I am particular in describing how my uncle walked up the middle of thestreet, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, gentlemen, because,as he often used to say (and with great reason too), there is nothingat all extraordinary in this story, unless you distinctly understand atthe beginning that he was not by any means of a marvellous or romanticturn.

  "Gentlemen, my uncle walked on with his thumbs in his waistcoatpockets, taking the middle of the street to himself, and singing, nowa verse of a love-song, and then a verse of a drinking one, and whenhe was tired of both, whistling melodiously, until he reached theNorth Bridge, which, at this point, connects the old and new townsof Edinburgh. Here he stopped for a minute, to look at the strangeirregular clusters of lights piled one above the other, and twinklingafar off so high, that they looked like stars, gleaming from the castlewalls on the one side and the Calton Hill on the other, as if theyilluminated veritable castles in the air; while the old picturesquetown slept heavily on, in gloom and darkness, below: its palace andchapel of Holyrood, guarded day and night, as a friend of my uncle'sused to say, by old Arthur's Seat, towering, surly and dark, like somegruff genius, over the ancient city he has watched so long. I say,gentlemen, my uncle stopped here, for a minute, to look about him; andthen, paying a compliment to the weather, which had a little clearedup, though the moon was sinking, walked on again, as royally as before;keeping the middle of the road with great dignity, and looking as ifhe would very much like to meet somebody who would dispute possessionof it with him. There was nobody at all disposed to contest the point,as it happened; and so, on he went, with his thumbs in his waistcoatpockets, like a lamb.

  "When my uncle reached the end of Leith Walk, he had to cross a prettylarge piece of waste ground which separated him from a short streetwhich he had to turn down, to go direct to his lodging. Now, in thispiece of waste ground, there was, at that time, an enclosure belongingto some wheelwright who contracted with the Post-office for thepurchase of old worn-out mail coaches; and my uncle, being very fond ofcoaches, old, young, or middle-aged, all at once took it into his headto step out of his road for no other purpose than to peep between thepalings at these mails--about a dozen of which he remembered to haveseen, crowded together in a very forlorn and dismantled state, inside.My uncle was a very enthusiastic, emphatic sort of person, gentlemen;so, finding that he could not obtain a good peep between the palings,he got over them, and sitting himself quietly down on an old axletree,began to contemplate the mail coaches with a great deal of gravity.

  "There might be a dozen of them, or there might be more--my uncle wasnever quite certain on this point, and being a man of very scrupulousveracity about numbers, didn't like to say--but there they stood, allhuddled together in the most desolate condition imaginable. The doorshad been torn from their hinges and removed; the linings had beenstripped off: only a shred hanging here and there by a rusty nail; thelamps were gone, the poles had long since vanished, the iron-work wasrusty, the paint was worn away; the wind whistled through the chinksin the bare wood-work; and the rain, which had collected on the roofs,fell, drop by drop, into the insides with a hollow and melancholysound. They were the decaying skeletons of departed mails, and in thatlonely place, at that time of night, they looked chill and dismal.

  "My uncle rested his head upon his hands, and thought of the busybustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the oldcoaches, and were now as silent and changed; he thought of the numbersof people to whom one of those crazy, mouldering vehicles had borne,night after night, for many years, and through all weathers, theanxiously expected intelligence, the eagerly looked-for remittance, thepromised assurance of health and safety, the sudden announcement ofsickness and death. The merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, themother, the schoolboy, the very child who tottered to the door at thepostman's knock--how had they all looked forward to the arrival of theold coach. And where were they all now!

  "Gentlemen, my uncle used to _say_ that he thought all this at thetime, but I rather suspect he learnt it out of some book afterwards,for he distinctly stated that he fell into a kind of doze, as he sat onthe old axletree looking at the decayed mail coaches, and that he wassuddenly awakened by some deep church-bell striking two. Now, my unclewas never a fast thinker, and if he had thought all these things, I amquite certain it would have taken him till full half-past two o'clock,at the very least. I am, therefore, decidedly of opinion, gentlemen,that my uncle fell into a kind of doze, without having thought aboutanything at all.

  "Be this as it may, a church bell struck two. My uncle woke, rubbed hiseyes, and jumped up in astonishment.

  "In one instant after the clock struck two, the whole of this desertedand quiet spot had become a scene of most extraordinary life andanimation. The mail coach doors were on their hinges, the lining wasreplaced, the iron-work was as good as new, the paint was restored,the lamps were alight, cushions and great-coats were on every box,porters were thrusting parcels into every boot, guards were stowingaway letter-bags, hostlers were dashing pails of water against therenovated wheels; numbers of men were rushing about, fixing poles intoevery coach; passengers arrived, portmanteaus were handed up, horseswere put to; in short, it was perfectly clear that every mail there wasto be off directly. Gentlemen, my uncle opened his eyes so wide at allthis, that, to the very last moment of his life, he used to wonder howit fell out that he had ever been able to shut 'em again.

  "'Now then!' said a voice, as my uncle felt a hand on his shoulder,'you're booked for inside. You'd better get in.'

  "'_I_ booked!' said my uncle, turning round.

  "'Yes, certainly.'

  "My uncle, gentlemen, could say nothing; he was so very muchastonished. The queerest thing of all was, that although there was sucha crowd of persons, and although fresh faces were pouring in everymoment, there was no telling where they came from. They seemed to startup, in some strange manner, from the ground, or the air, and disappearin the same way. When a porter had put his luggage in the coach, andreceived his fare, he turned round and was gone; and before my unclehad well begun to wonder what had become of him, half a dozen freshones started up, and staggered along under the weight of parcels whichseemed big enough to crush them. The passengers were all dressed sooddly too! Large, broad-skirted, laced coats with great cuffs and nocollars; and wigs, gentlemen--great formal wigs with a tie behind. Myuncle could make nothing of it.

  "'Now, _are_ you going to get in?' said the person who had addressed myuncle before. He was dressed as a mail guard, with a wig on his headand most enormous cuffs to his coat, and had a lantern in one hand, anda huge blunderbuss in the other, which he was going to stow away in hislittle arm-chest. '_Are_ you going to get in, Jack Martin?' said theguard, holding the lantern to my uncle's face.

  "'Hallo!' said my uncle, falling back a step or two. 'That's familiar!'

  "'It's so on the way-bill,' replied the guard.

  "'Isn't there a "Mister" before it?' said my uncle. For he felt,gentlemen, that for a guard he didn't know to call him Jack Martin, wasa liberty which the Post-office wouldn't have sanctioned if they hadknown it.

  "'No, there is not,' rejoined the guard, coolly.

  "'Is the fare paid?' inquired my uncle.

  "'Of course it is,' rejoined the guard.

  "'It is, is it?' said my uncle. 'Then here goes! Which coach?'

  "'This,' said the guard, pointing to an old-fashioned Edinburgh andLondon Mail, which had the steps down, and the door open. 'St
op! hereare the other passengers. Let them get in first.'

  "As the guard spoke, there all at once appeared, right in front ofmy uncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig, and a sky-blue coattrimmed with silver, made very full and broad in the skirts, which werelined with buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in the printed calico andwaistcoatpiece line, gentlemen, so my uncle knew all the materials atonce. He wore knee breeches, and a kind of leggings rolled up over hissilk stockings, and shoes with buckles; he had ruffles at his wrists,a three-cornered hat on his head, and a long taper sword by his side.The flaps of his waistcoat came half-way down his thighs, and the endsof his cravat reached to his waist. He stalked gravely to the coachdoor, pulled off his hat, and held it above his head at arm's length:cocking his little finger in the air at the same time, as some affectedpeople do, when they take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together,and made a low grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My uncle wasjust going to step forward, and shake it heartily, when he perceivedthat these attentions were directed, not towards him, but to a younglady who had just then appeared at the foot of the steps, attired inan old-fashioned green velvet dress with a long waist and stomacher.She had no bonnet on her head, gentlemen, which was muffled in a blacksilk hood, but she looked round for an instant as she prepared toget into the coach, and such a beautiful face as she disclosed, myuncle had never seen--not even in a picture. She got into the coach,holding up her dress with one hand; and, as my uncle always said, witha round oath, when he told the story, he wouldn't have believed itpossible that legs and feet could have been brought to such a state ofperfection unless he had seen them with his own eyes.

  "But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw thatthe young lady cast an imploring look upon him, and that she appearedterrified and distressed. He noticed, too, that the young fellow inthe powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry, which was allvery fine and grand, clasped her tight by the wrist when she got in,and followed himself immediately afterwards. An uncommonly ill-lookingfellow, in a close brown wig and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a verylarge sword, and boots up to his hips, belonged to the party; and whenhe sat himself down next to the young lady, who shrunk into a cornerat his approach, my uncle was confirmed in his original impressionthat something dark and mysterious was going forward, or, as he alwayssaid himself, that 'there was a screw loose somewhere.' It's quitesurprising how quickly he made up his mind to help the lady at anyperil, if she needed help.

  "'Death and lightning!' exclaimed the young gentleman, laying his handupon his sword as my uncle entered the coach.

  "'Blood and thunder!' roared the other gentleman. With this, he whippedhis sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle without further ceremony.My uncle had no weapon about him, but with great dexterity he snatchedthe ill-looking gentleman's three-cornered hat from his head, and,receiving the point of his sword right through the crown, squeezed thesides together, and held it tight.

  "'Pink him behind!' cried the ill-looking gentleman to his companion,as he struggled to regain his sword.

  "'He had better not,' cried my uncle, displaying the heel of one of hisshoes, in a threatening manner, 'I'll kick his brains out if he hasany, or fracture his skull if he hasn't.' Exerting all his strengthat this moment, my uncle wrenched the ill-looking man's sword fromhis grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach-window: upon which theyounger gentleman vociferated 'Death and lightning!' again, and laidhis hand upon the hilt of his sword, in a very fierce manner, butdidn't draw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, as my uncle used to say with asmile, perhaps he was afraid of alarming the lady.

  "'Now, gentlemen,' said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately, 'Idon't want to have any death, with or without lightning, in a lady'spresence, and we have had quite blood and thundering enough for onejourney; so, if you please, we'll sit in our places like quiet insides.Here, guard, pick up that gentleman's carving-knife.'

  "As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared at thecoach-window, with the gentleman's sword in his hand. He held up hislantern, and looked earnestly in my uncle's face, as he handed itin: when, by its light, my uncle saw, to his great surprise, that animmense crowd of mail-coach guards swarmed round the window, every oneof whom had his eyes earnestly fixed upon him too. He had never seensuch a sea of white faces, red bodies, and earnest eyes, in all hisborn days.

  "'This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to do with,'thought my uncle; 'allow me to return you your hat, sir.'

  "The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat in silence,looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air, and finallystuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the effect of which wasa trifle impaired by his sneezing violently at the moment, and jerkingit off again.

  "'All right!' cried the guard with the lantern, mounting into hislittle seat behind. Away they went. My uncle peeped out of thecoach-window as they emerged from the yard, and observed that the othermails, with coachmen, guards, horses, and passengers complete, weredriving round and round in circles, at a slow trot of about five milesan hour. My uncle burnt with indignation, gentlemen. As a commercialman, he felt that the mail-bags were not to be trifled with, and heresolved to memorialise the Post-office on the subject, the veryinstant he reached London.

  "At present, however, his thoughts were occupied with the young ladywho sat in the farthest corner of the coach, with her face muffledclosely in her hood; the gentleman with the sky-blue coat sittingopposite to her; the other man in the plum-coloured suit, by her side;and both watching her intently. If she so much as rustled the foldsof her hood, he could hear the ill-looking man clap his hand uponhis sword, and could tell by the other's breathing (it was so darkhe couldn't see his face) that he was looking as big as if he weregoing to devour her at a mouthful. This roused my uncle more and more,and he resolved, come what come might, to see the end of it. He hadgreat admiration for bright eyes, and sweet faces, and pretty legs andfeet; in short, he was fond of the whole sex. It runs in our family,gentlemen--so am I.

  "Many were the devices which my uncle practised, to attract the lady'sattention, or at all events, to engage the mysterious gentlemen inconversation. They were all in vain; the gentlemen wouldn't talk, andthe lady didn't dare. He thrust his head out of the coach-window atintervals, and bawled out to know why they didn't go faster? But hecalled till he was hoarse; nobody paid the least attention to him. Heleant back in the coach, and thought of the beautiful face, and thefeet and legs. This answered better; it wiled away the time, and kepthim from wondering where he was going, and how it was that he foundhimself in such an odd situation. Not that this would have worried himmuch, any way--he was a mighty free and easy, roving, devil-may-caresort of person, was my uncle, gentlemen.

  "All of a sudden the coach stopped. 'Hallo!' said my uncle, 'what's inthe wind now?'

  "'Alight here,' said the guard, letting down the steps.

  "'Here!' cried my uncle.

  "'Here,' rejoined the guard.

  "'I'll do nothing of the sort,' said my uncle.

  "'Very well, then stop where you are,' said the guard.

  "'I will,' said my uncle.

  "'Do,' said the guard.

  The other passengers had regarded this colloquy with great attention,and finding that my uncle was determined not to alight, the younger mansqueezed past him to hand the lady out. At this moment the ill-lookingman was inspecting the hole in the crown of his three-cornered hat.As the young lady brushed past, she dropped one of her gloves into myuncle's hand, and softly whispered, with her lips so close to hisface that he felt her warm breath on his nose, the single word 'Help!'Gentlemen, my uncle leaped out of the coach at once with such violencethat it rocked on the springs again.

  "'Oh! You've thought better of it, have you?' said the guard when hesaw my uncle standing on the ground.

  "My uncle looked at the guard for a few seconds, in some doubt whetherit wouldn't be better to wrench his blunderbuss from him, fire it inthe face of the man with the bi
g sword, knock the rest of the companyover the head with the stock, snatch up the young lady, and go off inthe smoke. On second thoughts, however, he abandoned this plan, asbeing a shade too melodramatic in the execution, and followed the twomysterious men, who, keeping the lady between them, were now enteringan old house in front of which the coach had stopped. They turned intothe passage, and my uncle followed.

  "Of all the ruinous and desolate places my uncle had ever beheld,this was the most so. It looked as if it had once been a large houseof entertainment; but the roof had fallen in, in many places, and thestairs were steep, rugged, and broken. There was a huge fireplace inthe room into which they walked, and the chimney was blackened withsmoke; but no warm blaze lighted it up now. The white feathery dust ofburnt wood was still strewed over the hearth, but the stove was cold,and all was dark and gloomy.

  "'Well,' said my uncle, as he looked about him, 'a mail travellingat the rate of six miles and a half an hour, and stopping for anindefinite period at such a hole as this, is rather an irregular sortof proceeding, I fancy. This shall be made known. I'll write to thepapers.'

  "My uncle said this in a pretty loud voice, and in an open, unreservedsort of manner, with the view of engaging the two strangers inconversation if he could. But, neither of them took any more notice ofhim than whispering to each other, and scowling at him as they did so.The lady was at the farther end of the room, and once she ventured towave her hand, as if beseeching my uncle's assistance.

  "At length the two strangers advanced a little, and the conversationbegan in earnest.

  "'You don't know this is a private room, I suppose, fellow?" said thegentleman in sky-blue.

  "'No, I do not, fellow,' rejoined my uncle. 'Only if this is a privateroom specially ordered for the occasion, I should think the publicroom must be a _very_ comfortable one;' with this my uncle sat himselfdown in a high-backed chair, and took such an accurate measure of thegentleman with his eyes, that Tiggin and Welps could have supplied himwith printed calico for a suit, and not an inch too much or too little,from that estimate alone.

  "'Quit this room,' said both the men together, grasping their swords.

  "'Eh?' said my uncle, not at all appearing to comprehend their meaning.

  "'Quit the room, or you are a dead man,' said the ill-looking fellowwith the large sword, drawing it at the same time and flourishing it inthe air.

  "'Down with him!' cried the gentleman in sky-blue, drawing his swordalso, and falling back two or three yards. 'Down with him!' The ladygave a loud scream.

  "Now, my uncle was always remarkable for great boldness, and greatpresence of mind. All the time that he had appeared so indifferent towhat was going on, he had been looking slyly about, for some missile orweapon of defence, and at the very instant when the swords were drawn,he espied, standing in the chimney corner, an old basket-hilted rapierin a rusty scabbard. At one bound, my uncle caught it in his hand, drewit, flourished it gallantly above his head, called aloud to the ladyto keep out of the way, hurled the chair at the man in sky-blue, andthe scabbard at the man in plum-colour, and taking advantage of theconfusion, fell upon them both, pell-mell.

  "Gentlemen, there is an old story--none the worse for beingtrue--regarding a fine young Irish gentleman, who being asked ifhe could play the fiddle, replied he had no doubt he could, but hecouldn't exactly say, for certain, because he had never tried. This isnot inapplicable to my uncle and his fencing. He had never had a swordin his hand before, except once when he played Richard the Third at aprivate theatre: upon which occasion it was arranged with Richmond thathe was to be run through, from behind, without showing fight at all.But here he was, cutting and slashing with two experienced swordsmen:thrusting and guarding and poking and slicing, and acquitting himselfin the most manful and dexterous manner possible, although up to thattime he had never been aware that he had the least notion of thescience. It only shows how true the old saying is, that a man neverknows what he can do, till he tries, gentlemen.

  "The noise of the combat was terrific; each of the three combatantsswearing like troopers, and their swords clashing with as much noiseas if all the knives and steels in Newport market were rattlingtogether, at the same time. When it was at its very height, the lady(to encourage my uncle most probably) withdrew her hood entirely fromher face, and disclosed a countenance of such dazzling beauty, thathe would have fought against fifty men, to win one smile from it, anddie. He had done wonders before, but now he began to powder away like araving mad giant.

  "At this very moment, the gentleman in sky-blue turning round, andseeing the young lady with her face uncovered, vented an exclamation ofrage and jealousy, and, turning his weapon against her beautiful bosom,pointed a thrust at her heart, which caused my uncle to utter a cryof apprehension that made the building ring. The lady stepped lightlyaside, and snatching the young man's sword from his hand, before he hadrecovered his balance, drove him to the wall, and running it throughhim, and the panelling, up to the very hilt, pinned him there, hardand fast. It was a splendid example. My uncle, with a loud shout oftriumph, and a strength that was irresistible, made his adversaryretreat in the same direction, and plunging the old rapier into thevery centre of a large red flower in the pattern of his waistcoat,nailed him beside his friend; there they both stood, gentlemen, jerkingtheir arms and legs about, in agony, like the toy-shop figures that aremoved by a piece of packthread. My uncle always said, afterwards, thatthis was one of the surest means he knew of, for disposing of an enemy;but it was liable to one objection on the ground of expense, inasmuchas it involved the loss of a sword for every man disabled.

  "'The mail, the mail!' cried the lady, running up to my uncle andthrowing her beautiful arms round his neck; 'we may yet escape.'

  "'_May!_' cried my uncle; 'why, my dear, there's nobody else tokill, is there?' My uncle was rather disappointed, gentlemen, for hethought a little quiet bit of love-making would be agreeable after theslaughtering, if it were only to change the subject.

  "'We have not an instant to lose here,' said the young lady. 'He(pointing to the young gentleman in sky-blue) is the only son of thepowerful Marquess of Filletoville.'

  "'Well then, my dear, I'm afraid he'll never come to the title,' saidmy uncle, looking coolly at the young gentleman as he stood fixed upagainst the wall, in the cockchafer fashion I have described. 'You havecut off the entail, my love.'

  "'I have been torn from my home and friends by these villains,' saidthe young lady, her features glowing with indignation. 'That wretchwould have married me by violence in another hour.'

  "'Confound his impudence!' said my uncle, bestowing a very contemptuouslook on the dying heir of Filletoville.

  "'As you may guess from what you have seen,' said the young lady,'the party were prepared to murder me if I appealed to any one forassistance. If their accomplices find us here, we are lost. Two minuteshence may be too late. The mail!' With these words, overpowered byher feelings, and the exertion of sticking the young Marquess ofFilletoville, she sunk into my uncle's arms. My uncle caught herup, and bore her to the house-door. There stood the mail, with fourlong-tailed, flowing-maned, black horses, ready harnessed; but nocoachman, no guard, no hostler, even, at the horses' heads.

  "Gentlemen, I hope I do no injustice to my uncle's memory when Iexpress my opinion, that although he was a bachelor, he _had_ heldsome ladies in his arms, before this time; I believe, indeed, that hehad rather a habit of kissing barmaids; and I know, that in one or twoinstances, he had been seen, by credible witnesses, to hug a landladyin a very perceptible manner. I mention the circumstance to show whata very uncommon sort of person this beautiful young lady must havebeen, to have affected my uncle in the way she did; he used to say,that as her long dark hair trailed over his arm, and her beautifuldark eyes fixed themselves upon his face when she recovered, he feltso strange and nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. But, whocan look in a sweet soft pair of dark eyes, without feeling queer? _I_can't, gentlemen. I am afraid to look at some eyes I know, and t
hat'sthe truth of it.

  "'You will never leave me?' murmured the young lady.

  "'Never,' said my uncle. And he meant it, too.

  "'My dear preserver!' exclaimed the young lady. 'My dear, kind, bravepreserver!'

  "'Don't,' said my uncle, interrupting her.

  "'Why?' inquired the young lady.

  "'Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak,' rejoined myuncle, 'that I'm afraid I shall be rude enough to kiss it.'

  "The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle not to do so,and said--no, she didn't say anything--she smiled. When you are lookingat a pair of the most delicious lips in the world and see them gentlybreak into a roguish smile--if you are very near them, and nobody elseby--you cannot better testify your admiration of their beautiful formand colour than by kissing them at once. My uncle did so, and I honourhim for it.

  "'Hark!' cried the young lady, starting. 'The noise of wheels andhorses!'

  "'So it is,' said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear for wheels,and the trampling of hoofs; but there appeared to be so many horsesand carriages rattling towards them, from a distance, that it wasimpossible to form a guess at their number. The sound was like that offifty breaks, with six blood cattle in each.

  "'We are pursued!' cried the young lady, clasping her hands. 'We arepursued. I have no hope but in you!'

  "There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face that myuncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into the coach, told hernot to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers once more, and thenadvising her to draw up the window to keep the cold air out, mountedthe box.

  "'Stay, love,' cried the young lady.

  "'What's the matter?' said my uncle from the coach-box.

  "'I want to speak to you,' said the young lady; 'only a word. Only oneword, dearest.'

  "'Must I get down?' inquired my uncle. The lady made no answer, but shesmiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen! It beat the other one, all tonothing. My uncle descended from his perch in a twinkling.

  "'What is it, my dear?' said my uncle, looking in at the coach window.The lady happened to bend forward at the same time, and my unclethought she looked more beautiful than she had done yet. He was veryclose to her just then, gentlemen, so he really ought to know.

  "'What is it, my dear?' said my uncle.

  "'Will you never love any one but me; never marry any one beside?' saidthe young lady.

  "My uncle swore a great oath that he would never marry anybody else,and the young lady drew in her head, and pulled up the window. Hejumped upon the box, squared his elbows, adjusted the ribbons, seizedthe whip which lay on the roof, gave one flick to the off leader, andaway went the four long-tailed, flowing-maned black horses, at fifteengood English miles an hour, with the old mail coach behind them. Whew!How they tore along.

  "The noise behind grew louder. The faster the old mail went, the fastercame the pursuers--man, horses, dogs, were leagued in the pursuit. Thenoise was frightful, but above all rose the voice of the young lady,urging my uncle on, and shrieking, 'Faster! Faster!'

  "They whirled past the dark trees, as feathers would be swept before ahurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects of every kindthey shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaring waters suddenlylet loose. Still the noise of pursuit grew louder, and still my unclecould hear the young lady wildly screaming, 'Faster! Faster!'

  "My uncle plied whip and rein, and the horses flew onward till theywere white with foam; and yet the noise behind increased; and yet theyoung lady cried, 'Faster! Faster!' My uncle gave a loud stamp on theboot in the energy of the moment, and--found that it was grey morning,and he was sitting in the wheelwright's yard, on the box of an oldEdinburgh mail, shivering with the cold and wet, and stamping his feetto warm them! He got down, and looked eagerly inside for the beautifulyoung lady. Alas! There was neither door nor seat to the coach. It wasa mere shell.

  "_My uncle gave a loud stamp on the boot in the energyof the moment_"]

  "Of course my uncle knew very well that there was some mystery in thematter, and that everything had passed exactly as he used to relate it.He remained staunch to the great oath he had sworn to the beautifulyoung lady: refusing several eligible landladies on her account, anddying a bachelor at last. He always said, what a curious thing itwas that he should have found out, by such a mere accident as hisclambering over the palings, that the ghosts of mail-coaches andhorses, guards, coachmen, and passengers, were in the habit of makingjourneys regularly every night. He used to add, that he believed he wasthe only living person who had ever been taken as a passenger on one ofthese excursions. And I think he was right, gentlemen--at least I neverheard of any other."

  * * * * *

  "I wonder what these ghosts of mail-coaches carry in their bags?"said the landlord, who had listened to the whole story with profoundattention.

  "The dead letters, of course," said the bagman.

  "Oh, ah! To be sure," rejoined the landlord. "I never thought of that."