pany with a thick rattan stick with a brass ferrule, and a gardener and subgardener with meek faces, to whom (the gardeners, not the stick) Captain Boldwig gave his orders with all due grandeur and ferocity: for Captain Boldwig's wife's sister had married a Marquis, and the Captain's house was a villa, and his land "grounds," and it was all very high, mighty, and great. Mr. Pickwick had not been asleep half an hour when little Captain Boldwig, followed by the two gardeners, came striding along as fast as his size and importance would let him; and when he came near the oak tree, Captain Boldwig paused, and drew a long breath, and looked at the prospect as if he thought the prospect ought to be highly gratified at having him to take notice of it; and then he struck the ground emphatically with his stick, and summoned the head-gardener. "Hunt," said Captain Boldwig. "Yes, sir," said the gardener. "Roll this place to-morrow morningdo you hear, Hunt?" "Yes, sir." "And take care that you keep me this place in good order-do you hear, Hunt?" "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir-they have been dining here, I think, sir." "Why, confound their audacity, so they have," said Captain Boldwig, as the crumbs and fragments that were strewn upon the grass met his eye. "They have actually been devouring their food here. I wish I had the vagabonds here!" said the captain, clenching the thick stick. "I wish I had the vagabonds here," said the Captain, wrathfully. "Beg your pardon, sir," said Wilkins, “but” VOL. III.-W. H. Punch, I think, sir," replied Wilkins. "That's his impudence, that's his confounded impudence," said Captain Boldwig. "He's only feigning to be asleep now," said the Captain in a high passion. "He's drunk; he's a drunken plebeian. Wheel him away, Wilkins, wheel him away directly. Where shall I wheel him to, sir?" inquired Wilkins with great timidity. Wheel him to the Devil," replied Captain Boldwig. Very well, sir," said Wilkins. "Stay," said the Captain. Wilkins stopped accordingly. "Wheel him," said the Captain, "wheel him to the pound: and let us see whether he calls himself Punch when he comes to himself. He shall not bully me, he shall not bully me! Wheel him away." Away Mr. Pickwick was wheeled in compliance with this imperious mandate; and the great Captain Boldwig, swelling with indignation, proceeded on his walk. Inexpressible was the astonishment of the little party when they returned to find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the wheelbarrow with him' It was the most mysterious and unaccountable thing that was ever heard of. For a lame man to have got upon his legs without any previous notice, and walked off, would have been most extraordinary; but when it came to his wheeling a heavy barrow before him, by way of amusement it grew positively miraculous. 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. 16 They "We were trespassing, it seems," said Mr. Wardle. Meanwhile Mr. Pickwick had been "I'll give directions for the commencewheeled to the Pound, and safely de- ment of an action for false imprisonment posited therein, fast asleep in the wheel- against this Captain Boldwig, directly barrow, to the immeasurable delight and I get to London," said Mr. Pickwick, satisfaction, not only of all the boys in as soon as the carriage turned out of the village, but three-fourths of the whole the town. population, who had gathered round, in expectation of his waking. If their most intense gratification had been excited 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 an'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 driven 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 townbeadle. "Run to the Justice's"-cried a dozen voices. "Ah, run away," said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. "Give my compliments Mr. Veller's compliments to the Justice, and tell him I've spiled his beadle, and that, if he'll swear in a new 'un, I'll come back again to-morrow and spile him. Drive on, old fellar." "I don't care," said Mr. Pickwick, “I'll bring the action." No, you won't," said Wardle. "I will, by" but as there was a humorous expression in Wardle's face, Mr. Pickwick checked himself, and said: "Why not?" Because," said old Wardle, half bursting with laughter, "because they might turn round on some of us, and say we had taken too much cold punch." Do what he would, a smile would come into Mr. Pickwick's face; the smile extended into a laugh; the laugh into a roar; the roar became general. So to keep up their good humor, they stopped at the first roadside tavern they came to, and ordered a glass of brandy and water all round, with a magnum of extra strength for Mr. Samuel Weller. DODSON AND FOGG. "Come in, can't you!" cried a voice from behind the partition, in reply to Mr. Pickwick's gentle tap at the door. And Mr. Pickwick and Sam entered accordingly. Mr. Dodson or Mr. Fogg at home, sir?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, gently, advancing, hat in hand, towards the tition. par "Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged," replied the voice; and at the same time the head to which the voice belonged, with a pen behind its ear, looked over the partition, and at Mr. Pickwick. It was a ragged head, the sandy hair of which, scrupulously parted on one side, and flattened down with pomatum, was twisted into little semi-circular tails round a flat face ornamented with a pair of small eyes, and garnished with a very dirty shirt collar, and a rusty black stock. |