CONTAINING THE STORY OF THE BAGMAN’SUNCLEy uncle, gentlemen,’ said the bagman, ‘was one of themerriest, pleasantest, cleverest fellows, that everlived. I wish you had known him, gentlemen. Onsecond thoughts, gentlemen, I don’t wish you had known him, forif you had, you would have been all, by this time, in the ordinarycourse of nature, if not dead, at all events so near it, as to havetaken to stopping at home and giving up company, which wouldhave deprived me of the inestimable pleasure of addressing you atthis moment. Gentlemen, I wish your fathers and mothers hadknown my uncle. They would have been amazingly fond of him,especially your respectable mothers; I know they would. If any twoof his numerous virtues2 predominated over the many that adornedhis character, I should say they were his mixed punch and hisafter-supper song. Excuse my dwelling3 on these melancholyrecollections of departed worth; you won’t see a man like my uncleevery day in the week.
‘I have always considered it a great point in my uncle’scharacter, gentlemen, that he was the intimate friend andcompanion of Tom Smart, of the great house of Bilson and Slum,Cateaton Street, City. My uncle collected for Tiggin and Welps,but for a long time he went pretty near the same journey as Tom;and the very first night they met, my uncle took a fancy for Tom,and Tom took a fancy for my uncle. They made a bet of a new hatbefore they had known each other half an hour, who should brewthe best quart of punch and drink it the quickest. My uncle wasjudged to have won the making, but Tom Smart beat him in thedrinking by about half a salt-spoonful. They took another quartapiece to drink each other’s health in, and were staunch friendsever afterwards. There’s a destiny in these things, gentlemen; wecan’t help it.
‘In personal appearance, my uncle was a trifle shorter than themiddle size; he was a thought stouter4 too, than the ordinary run ofpeople, and perhaps his face might be a shade redder. He had thejolliest face you ever saw, gentleman: something like Punch, with ahandsome nose and chin; his eyes were always twinkling andsparkling with good-humour; and a smile―not one of yourunmeaning wooden grins, but a real, merry, hearty6, good-tempered smile―was perpetually on his countenance7. He waspitched out of his gig once, and knocked, head first, against amilestone. There he lay, stunned8, and so cut about the face withsome gravel9 which had been heaped up alongside it, that, to usemy uncle’s own strong expression, if his mother could haverevisited the earth, she wouldn’t have known him. Indeed, when Icome to think of the matter, gentlemen, I feel pretty sure shewouldn’t. for she died when my uncle was two years and sevenmonths old, and I think it’s very likely that, even without thegravel, his top-boots would have puzzled the good lady not a little;to say nothing of his jolly red face. However, there he lay, and Ihave heard my uncle say, many a time, that the man said whopicked him up that he was smiling as merrily as if he had tumbledout for a treat, and that after they had bled him, the first faintglimmerings of returning animation10, were his jumping up in bed,bursting out into a loud laugh, kissing the young woman who heldthe basin, and demanding a mutton chop and a pickled walnut11. Hewas very fond of pickled walnuts12, gentlemen. He said he alwaysfound that, taken without vinegar, they relished13 the beer.
‘My uncle’s great journey was in the fall of the leaf, at whichtime he collected debts, and took orders, in the north; going fromLondon to Edinburgh, from Edinburgh to Glasgow, from Glasgowback to Edinburgh, and thence to London by the smack14. You areto understand that his second visit to Edinburgh was for his ownpleasure. He used to go back for a week, just to look up his oldfriends; and what with breakfasting with this one, lunching withthat, dining with the third, and supping with another, a prettytight week he used to make of it. I don’t know whether any of you,gentlemen, ever partook of a real substantial hospitable15 Scotchbreakfast, and then went out to a slight lunch of a bushel ofoysters, a dozen or so of bottled ale, and a noggin or two ofwhiskey 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 eyebrows17, all this sort of thing wasnothing to my uncle! He was so well seasoned, that it was merechild’s play. I have heard him say that he could see the Dundeepeople out, any day, and walk home afterwards withoutstaggering; and yet the Dundee people have as strong heads andas strong punch, gentlemen, as you are likely to meet with,between the poles. I have heard of a Glasgow man and a Dundeeman drinking against each other for fifteen hours at a sitting. Theywere both suffocated19, as nearly as could be ascertained20, at thesame moment, but with this trifling21 exception, gentlemen, theywere not a bit the worse for it.
‘One night, within four-and-twenty hours of the time when hehad settled to take shipping22 for London, my uncle supped at thehouse of a very old friend of his, a Bailie Mac something and foursyllables after it, who lived in the old town of Edinburgh. Therewere the bailie’s wife, and the bailie’s three daughters, and thebailie’s grown-up son, and three or four stout5, bushy eye-browed,canny, old Scotch16 fellows, that the bailie had got together to dohonour to my uncle, and help to make merry. It was a glorioussupper. There was kippered salmon23, and Finnan haddocks, and alamb’s head, and a haggis―a celebrated24 Scotch dish, gentlemen,which my uncle used to say always looked to him, when it came totable, very much like a Cupid’s stomach―and a great many otherthings besides, that I forget the names of, but very good things,notwithstanding. The lassies were pretty and agreeable; thebailie’s wife was one of the best creatures that ever lived; and myuncle was in thoroughly26 good cue. The consequence of which was,that the young ladies tittered and giggled27, and the old ladylaughed out loud, and the bailie and the other old fellows roaredtill they were red in the face, the whole mortal time. I don’t quiterecollect how many tumblers of whiskey-toddy each man drankafter supper; but this I know, that about one o’clock in themorning, the bailie’s grown-up son became insensible whileattempting the first verse of “Willie brewed28 a peck o’ maut”; andhe having been, for half an hour before, the only other man visibleabove the mahogany, it occurred to my uncle that it was almosttime to think about going, especially as drinking had set in atseven 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 proposehis own health, addressed himself in a neat and complimentaryspeech, and drank the toast with great enthusiasm. Still nobodywoke; so my uncle took a little drop more―neat this time, toprevent the toddy from disagreeing with him―and, laying violenthands on his hat, sallied forth29 into the street.
‘It was a wild, gusty30 night when my uncle closed the bailie’sdoor, and settling his hat firmly on his head to prevent the windfrom taking it, thrust his hands into his pockets, and lookingupward, took a short survey of the state of the weather. The cloudswere drifting over the moon at their giddiest speed; at one timewholly obscuring her; at another, suffering her to burst forth infull splendour and shed her light on all the objects around; anon,driving over her again, with increased velocity31, and shroudingeverything in darkness. “Really, this won’t do,” said my uncle,addressing himself to the weather, as if he felt himself personallyoffended. “This is not at all the kind of thing for my voyage. It willnot do at any price,” said my uncle, very impressively. Havingrepeated this, several times, he recovered his balance with somedifficulty―for he was rather giddy with looking up into the sky solong―and walked merrily on.
‘The bailie’s house was in the Canongate, and my uncle wasgoing to the other end of Leith Walk, rather better than a mile’sjourney. On either side of him, there shot up against the dark sky,tall, gaunt, straggling houses, with time-stained fronts, andwindows that seemed to have shared the lot of eyes in mortals, andto have grown dim and sunken with age. Six, seven, eight Storeyhigh, were the houses; storey piled upon storey, as children buildwith cards―throwing their dark shadows over the roughly pavedroad, and making the dark night darker. A few oil lamps werescattered at long distances, but they only served to mark the dirtyentrance to some narrow close, or to show where a common staircommunicated, by steep and intricate windings32, with the variousflats above. Glancing at all these things with the air of a man whohad seen them too often before, to think them worthy33 of muchnotice now, my uncle walked up the middle of the street, with athumb in each waistcoat pocket, indulging from time to time invarious snatches of song, chanted forth with such good-will andspirit, that the quiet honest folk started from their first sleep andlay trembling in bed till the sound died away in the distance;when, satisfying themselves that it was only some drunken ne’er-do-weel finding his way home, they covered themselves up warmand fell asleep again.
‘I am particular in describing how my uncle walked up themiddle of the street, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets,gentlemen, because, as he often used to say (and with great reasontoo) there is nothing at all extraordinary in this story, unless youdistinctly understand at the beginning, that he was not by anymeans of a marvellous or romantic turn.
‘Gentlemen, my uncle walked on with his thumbs in hiswaistcoat pockets, taking the middle of the street to himself, andsinging, now a verse of a love song, and then a verse of a drinkingone, and when he was tired of both, whistling melodiously34, until hereached the North Bridge, which, at this point, connects the oldand new towns of Edinburgh. Here he stopped for a minute, tolook at the strange, irregular clusters of lights piled one above theother, and twinkling afar off so high, that they looked like stars,gleaming from the castle walls on the one side and the Calton Hillon the other, as if they illuminated35 veritable castles in the air;while the old picturesque36 town slept heavily on, in gloom anddarkness below: its palace and chapel37 of Holyrood, guarded dayand night, as a friend of my uncle’s used to say, by old Arthur’sSeat, towering, surly and dark, like some gruff genius, over theancient city he has watched so long. I say, gentlemen, my unclestopped here, for a minute, to look about him; and then, paying acompliment to the weather, which had a little cleared up, thoughthe 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 with somebody who woulddispute possession of it with him. There was nobody at alldisposed to contest the point, as it happened; and so, on he went,with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, like a lamb.
‘When my uncle reached the end of Leith Walk, he had to crossa pretty large piece of waste ground which separated him from ashort street which he had to turn down to go direct to his lodging38.
Now, in this piece of waste ground, there was, at that time, anenclosure belonging to some wheelwright who contracted with thePost Office for the purchase of old, worn-out mail coaches; and myuncle, being very fond of coaches, old, young, or middle-aged39, allat once took it into his head to step out of his road for no otherpurpose than to peep between the palings at these mails―about adozen of which he remembered to have seen, crowded together ina very forlorn and dismantled40 state, inside. My uncle was a veryenthusiastic, emphatic41 sort of person, gentlemen; so, finding thathe could not obtain a good peep between the palings he got overthem, and sitting himself quietly down on an old axle-tree, beganto contemplate42 the mail coaches with a deal of gravity.
‘There might be a dozen of them, or there might be more―myuncle was never quite certain on this point, and being a man ofvery scrupulous43 veracity44 about numbers, didn’t like to say―butthere they stood, all huddled45 together in the most desolatecondition imaginable. The doors had been torn from their hingesand removed; the linings47 had been stripped off, only a shredhanging here and there by a rusty48 nail; the lamps were gone, thepoles had long since vanished, the ironwork was rusty, the paintwas worn away; the wind whistled through the chinks in the barewoodwork; 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 inthat lonely place, at that time of night, they looked chill anddismal.
‘My uncle rested his head upon his hands, and thought of thebusy, bustling49 people who had rattled50 about, years before, in theold coaches, and were now as silent and changed; he thought ofthe numbers of people to whom one of these crazy, moulderingvehicles had borne, night after night, for many years, and throughall weathers, the anxiously expected intelligence, the eagerlylooked-for remittance51, the promised assurance of health andsafety, the sudden announcement of sickness and death. Themerchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the school-boy, the very child who tottered52 to the door at the postman’sknock―how had they all looked forward to the arrival of the oldcoach. And where were they all now?
‘Gentlemen, my uncle used to say that he thought all this at thetime, but I rather suspect he learned it out of some bookafterwards, for he distinctly stated that he fell into a kind of doze,as he sat on the old axle-tree looking at the decayed mail coaches,and that he was suddenly awakened53 by some deep church bellstriking two. Now, my uncle was never a fast thinker, and if he hadthought all these things, I am quite certain it would have takenhim 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 ofdoze, without having thought about anything at all.
‘Be this as it may, a church bell struck two. My uncle woke,rubbed his eyes, and jumped up in astonishment54.
‘In one instant, after the clock struck two, the whole of thisdeserted and quiet spot had become a scene of most extraordinarylife and animation. The mail coach doors were on their hinges, thelining was replaced, the ironwork was as good as new, the paintwas restored, the lamps were alight; cushions and greatcoats wereon every coach-box, porters were thrusting parcels into everyboot, guards were stowing away letter-bags, hostlers were dashingpails of water against the renovated55 wheels; numbers of men werepushing about, fixing poles into every coach; passengers arrived,portmanteaus were handed up, horses were put to; in short, it wasperfectly clear that every mail there, was to be off directly.
Gentlemen, my uncle opened his eyes so wide at all this, that, tothe very last moment of his life, he used to wonder how it fell outthat he had ever been able to shut ’em again.
‘“Now then!” said a voice, as my uncle felt a hand on hisshoulder, “you’re booked for one 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 wassuch a crowd of persons, and although fresh faces were pouring in,every moment, there was no telling where they came from. Theyseemed to start up, in some strange manner, from the ground, orthe air, and disappear in the same way. When a porter had put hisluggage in the coach, and received his fare, he turned round andwas gone; and before my uncle had well begun to wonder whathad become of him, half a dozen fresh ones started up, andstaggered along under the weight of parcels, which seemed bigenough to crush them. The passengers were all dressed so oddlytoo! Large, broad-skirted laced coats, with great cuffs56 and nocollars; and wigs57, gentlemen―great formal wigs with a tie behind.
My uncle could make nothing of it.
‘“Now, are you going to get in?” said the person who hadaddressed my uncle before. He was dressed as a mail guard, with awig on his head and most enormous cuffs to his coat, and had alantern in one hand, and a huge blunderbuss in the other, whichhe was going to stow away in his little arm-chest. “Are you going toget in, Jack59 Martin?” said the guard, holding the lantern to myuncle’s face.
‘“Hollo!” said my uncle, falling back a step or two. “That’sfamiliar!”
‘“It’s so on the way-bill,” said 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 JackMartin, was a liberty which the Post Office wouldn’t havesanctioned if they had known 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 Edinburghand London mail, which had the steps down and the door open.
“Stop! Here are the other passengers. Let them get in first.”
‘As the guard spoke60, there all at once appeared, right in front ofmy uncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig58, and a sky-bluecoat trimmed with silver, made very full and broad in the skirts,which were lined with buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in theprinted calico and waistcoat piece line, gentlemen, so my uncleknew all the materials at once. He wore knee breeches, and a kindof leggings rolled up over his silk stockings, and shoes withbuckles; he had ruffles61 at his wrists, a three-cornered hat on hishead, and a long taper62 sword by his side. The flaps of his waist-coat came half-way down his thighs63, and the ends of his cravatreached to his waist. He stalked gravely to the coach door, pulledoff his hat, and held it above his head at arm’s length, cocking hislittle finger in the air at the same time, as some affected64 people do,when they take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together, andmade a low, grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My unclewas just going to step forward, and shake it heartily65, when heperceived that these attentions were directed, not towards him,but to a young lady who just then appeared at the foot of the steps,attired in an old-fashioned green velvet66 dress with a long waistand stomacher. She had no bonnet67 on her head, gentlemen, whichwas muffled68 in a black silk hood69, but she looked round for aninstant as she prepared to get into the coach, and such a beautifulface as she disclosed, my uncle had never seen―not even in apicture. She got into the coach, holding up her dress with onehand; and as my uncle always said with a round oath, when hetold the story, he wouldn’t have believed it possible that legs andfeet could have been brought to such a state of perfection unlesshe had seen them with his own eyes.
‘But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw thatthe young lady cast an imploring70 look upon him, and that sheappeared terrified and distressed71. He noticed, too, that the youngfellow in the powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry,which was all very fine and grand, clasped her tight by the wristwhen she got in, and followed himself immediately afterwards. Anuncommonly ill-looking fellow, in a close brown wig, and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a very large sword, and boots up to his hips,belonged to the party; and when he sat himself down next to theyoung lady, who shrank into a corner at his approach, my unclewas confirmed in his original impression that something dark andmysterious was going forward, or, as he always said himself, that“there was a screw loose somewhere.” It’s quite surprising howquickly he made up his mind to help the lady at any peril73, if sheneeded any help.
‘“Death and lightning!” exclaimed the young gentleman, layinghis hand upon his sword as my uncle entered the coach.
‘“Blood and thunder!” roared the other gentleman. With this,he whipped his sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle withoutfurther ceremony. My uncle had no weapon about him, but withgreat dexterity74 he snatched the ill-looking gentleman’s three-cornered hat from his head, and, receiving the point of his swordright through the crown, squeezed the sides together, and held ittight.
‘“Pink him behind!” cried the ill-looking gentleman to hiscompanion, as he struggled to regain75 his sword.
‘“He had better not,” cried my uncle, displaying the heel of oneof his shoes, in a threatening manner. “I’ll kick his brains out, if hehas any, or fracture his skull76 if he hasn’t.” Exerting all hisstrength, at this moment, my uncle wrenched77 the ill-looking man’ssword from his grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach window,upon which the younger gentleman vociferated, “Death andlightning!” again, and laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, in avery fierce manner, but didn’t draw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, as myuncle used to say with a smile, perhaps he was afraid of alarmingthe lady.
‘“Now, gentlemen,” said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately,“I don’t want to have any death, with or without lightning, in alady’s presence, and we have had quite blood and thunderingenough for one journey; so, if you please, we’ll sit in our places likequiet insides. Here, guard, pick up that gentleman’s carving-knife.”
‘As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared atthe coach window, with the gentleman’s sword in his hand. Heheld up his lantern, and looked earnestly in my uncle’s face, as hehanded it in, when, by its light, my uncle saw, to his great surprise,that an immense crowd of mail-coach guards swarmed79 round thewindow, every one of whom had his eyes earnestly fixed80 upon himtoo. He had never seen such a sea of white faces, red bodies, andearnest eyes, in all his born days.
‘“This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to dowith,” thought my uncle; “allow me to return you your hat, sir.”
‘The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat insilence, looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air, andfinally stuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the effect ofwhich was a trifle impaired81 by his sneezing violently at themoment, and jerking it 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 thatthe other mails, with coachmen, guards, horses, and passengers,complete, were driving round and round in circles, at a slow trot82 ofabout five miles an hour. My uncle burned with indignation,gentlemen. As a commercial man, he felt that the mail-bags werenot to be trifled with, and he resolved to memorialise the PostOffice on the subject, the very instant he reached London.
‘At present, however, his thoughts were occupied with theyoung lady who sat in the farthest corner of the coach, with herface muffled closely in her hood; the gentleman with the sky-bluecoat sitting opposite to her; the other man in the plum-colouredsuit, by her side; and both watching her intently. If she so much asrustled the folds of her hood, he could hear the ill-looking manclap his hand upon his sword, and could tell by the other’sbreathing (it was so dark he couldn’t see his face) that he waslooking as big as if he were going to devour83 her at a mouthful. Thisroused my uncle more and more, and he resolved, come whatmight, to see the end of it. He had a great admiration84 for brighteyes, and sweet faces, and pretty legs and feet; in short, he wasfond of the whole sex. It runs in our family, gentleman―so am I.
‘Many were the devices which my uncle practised, to attract thelady’s attention, or at all events, to engage the mysteriousgentlemen in conversation. They were all in vain; the gentlemenwouldn’t talk, and the lady didn’t dare. He thrust his head out ofthe coach window at intervals85, and bawled86 out to know why theydidn’t go faster. But he called till he was hoarse87; nobody paid theleast attention to him. He leaned back in the coach, and thought ofthe beautiful face, and the feet and legs. This answered better; itwhiled away the time, and kept him from wondering where he wasgoing, and how it was that he found himself in such an oddsituation. Not that this would have worried him much, anyway―he was a mighty88 free and easy, roving, devil-may-care sort ofperson, was my uncle, gentlemen.
‘All of a sudden the coach stopped. “Hollo!” said my uncle,“what’s in the 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 passengers had regarded this colloquy89 with greatattention, and, finding that my uncle was determined90 not to alight,the younger man squeezed past him, to hand the lady out. At thismoment, the ill-looking man was inspecting the hole in the crownof his three-cornered hat. As the young lady brushed past, shedropped one of her gloves into my uncle’s hand, and softlywhispered, with her lips so close to his face that he felt her warmbreath on his nose, the single word “Help!” Gentlemen, my uncleleaped out of the coach at once, with such violence that it rockedon the springs again.
‘“Oh! you’ve thought better of it, have you?” said the guard,when he saw my uncle standing25 on the ground.
‘My uncle looked at the guard for a few seconds, in some doubtwhether it wouldn’t be better to wrench78 his blunderbuss from him,fire it in the face of the man with the big sword, knock the rest ofthe company over the head with the stock, snatch up the younglady, and go off in the smoke. On second thoughts, however, heabandoned this plan, as being a shade too melodramatic in theexecution, and followed the two mysterious men, who, keeping thelady between them, were now entering an old house in front ofwhich the coach had stopped. They turned into the passage, andmy uncle followed.
‘Of all the ruinous and desolate46 places my uncle had everbeheld, this was the most so. It looked as if it had once been alarge house of entertainment; but the roof had fallen in, in manyplaces, and the stairs were steep, rugged91, and broken. There was ahuge fireplace in the room into which they walked, and thechimney was blackened with smoke; but no warm blaze lighted itup now. The white feathery dust of burned wood was still strewedover the hearth92, but the stove was cold, and all was dark andgloomy.
‘“Well,” said my uncle, as he looked about him, “a mailtravelling at the rate of six miles and a half an hour, and stoppingfor an indefinite time at such a hole as this, is rather an irregularsort of proceeding93, I fancy. This shall be made known. I’ll write tothe papers.”
‘My uncle said this in a pretty loud voice, and in an open,unreserved sort of manner, with the view of engaging the twostrangers in conversation if he could. But, neither of them tookany more notice of him than whispering to each other, andscowling at him as they did so. The lady was at the farther end ofthe room, and once she ventured to wave her hand, as ifbeseeching my uncle’s assistance.
‘At length the two strangers advanced a little, and theconversation began in earnest.
‘“You don’t know this is a private room, I suppose, fellow?” saidthe gentleman in sky-blue.
‘“No, I do not, fellow,” rejoined my uncle. “Only, if this is aprivate room specially1 ordered for the occasion, I should think thepublic room must be a very comfortable one;” with this, my unclesat himself down in a high-backed chair, and took such anaccurate measure of the gentleman, with his eyes, that Tiggin andWelps could have supplied him with printed calico for a suit, andnot an inch too much or too little, from that estimate alone.
‘“Quit this room,” said both men together, grasping theirswords.
‘“Eh?” said my uncle, not at all appearing to comprehend theirmeaning.
‘“Quit the room, or you are a dead man,” said the ill-lookingfellow with the large sword, drawing it at the same time andflourishing it in the air.
‘“Down with him!” cried the gentleman in sky-blue, drawing hissword also, and falling back two or three yards. “Down with him!”
The lady gave a loud scream.
‘Now, my uncle was always remarkable95 for great boldness, andgreat presence of mind. All the time that he had appeared soindifferent to what was going on, he had been looking slily aboutfor some missile or weapon of defence, and at the very instantwhen the swords were drawn96, he espied97, standing in the chimney-corner, an old basket-hilted rapier in a rusty scabbard. At onebound, my uncle caught it in his hand, drew it, flourished itgallantly above his head, called aloud to the lady to keep out of theway, hurled98 the chair at the man in sky-blue, and the scabbard atthe man in plum-colour, and taking advantage of the confusion,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 fiddle99, replied he had no doubt he could, but hecouldn’t exactly say, for certain, because he had never tried. Thisis not inapplicable to my uncle and his fencing. He had never hada sword in his hand before, except once when he played Richardthe Third at a private theatre, upon which occasion it wasarranged with Richmond that he was to be run through, frombehind, without showing fight at all. But here he was, cutting andslashing with two experienced swordsman, thrusting, andguarding, and poking100, and slicing, and acquitting101 himself in themost manful and dexterous102 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 threecombatants swearing like troopers, and their swords clashing withas much noise as if all the knives and steels in Newport marketwere rattling103 together, at the same time. When it was at its veryheight, the lady (to encourage my uncle most probably) withdrewher hood entirely104 from her face, and disclosed a countenance ofsuch dazzling beauty, that he would have fought against fifty men,to win one smile from it and die. He had done wonders before, butnow he began to powder away like a raving105 mad giant.
‘At this very moment, the gentleman in sky-blue turning round,and seeing the young lady with her face uncovered, vented106 anexclamation of rage and jealousy107, and, turning his weapon againsther beautiful bosom108, pointed109 a thrust at her heart, which causedmy uncle to utter a cry of apprehension110 that made the buildingring. The lady stepped lightly aside, and snatching the youngman’s sword from his hand, before he had recovered his balance,drove him to the wall, and running it through him, and thepanelling, up to the very hilt, pinned him there, hard and fast. Itwas a splendid example. My uncle, with a loud shout of triumph,and a strength that was irresistible111, made his adversary112 retreat inthe same direction, and plunging113 the old rapier into the verycentre of a large red flower in the pattern of his waistcoat, nailedhim beside his friend; there they both stood, gentlemen, jerkingtheir arms and legs about in agony, like the toy-shop figures thatare moved by a piece of pack-thread. My uncle always said,afterwards, that this was one of the surest means he knew of, fordisposing of an enemy; but it was liable to one objection on theground of expense, inasmuch as it involved the loss of a sword forevery man disabled.
‘“The mail, the mail!” cried the lady, running up to my uncleand throwing her beautiful arms round his neck; “we may yetescape.”
‘“May!” cried my uncle; “why, my dear, there’s nobody else tokill, is there?” My uncle was rather disappointed, gentlemen, forhe thought a little quiet bit of love-making would be agreeableafter the slaughtering114, 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 afraidhe’ll never come to the title,” said my uncle, looking coolly at theyoung gentleman as he stood fixed up against the wall, in thecockchafer fashion that I have described. “You have cut off theentail, my love.”
‘“I have been torn from my home and my friends by thesevillains,” said the young lady, her features glowing withindignation. “That wretch115 would have married me by violence inanother hour.”
‘“Confound his impudence116!” said my uncle, bestowing117 a verycontemptuous look on the dying heir of Filletoville.
‘“As you may guess from what you have seen,” said the younglady, “the party were prepared to murder me if I appealed to anyone for assistance. If their accomplices118 find us here, we are lost.
Two minutes hence may be too late. The mail!” With these words,overpowered by her feelings, and the exertion119 of sticking theyoung Marquess of Filletoville, she sank into my uncle’s arms. Myuncle caught her up, and bore her to the house door. There stoodthe mail, with four long-tailed, flowing-maned, black horses, readyharnessed; but no coachman, no guard, no hostler even, at thehorses’ heads.
‘Gentlemen, I hope I do no injustice120 to my uncle’s memory,when I express my opinion, that although he was a bachelor, hehad held some ladies in his arms before this time; I believe,indeed, that he had rather a habit of kissing barmaids; and I know,that in one or two instances, he had been seen by crediblewitnesses, to hug a landlady121 in a very perceptible manner. Imention the circumstance, to show what a very uncommon72 sort ofperson this beautiful young lady must have been, to have affectedmy uncle in the way she did; he used to say, that as her long darkhair trailed over his arm, and her beautiful dark eyes fixedthemselves upon his face when she recovered, he felt so strangeand nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. But who can lookin 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 that’s the 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, brave preserver!”
‘“Don’t,” said my uncle, interrupting her.
‘“Why?” inquired the young lady.
‘“Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak,”
rejoined my uncle, “that I’m afraid I shall be rude enough to kissit.”
‘The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle notto do so, and said―No, she didn’t say anything―she smiled. Whenyou are looking at a pair of the most delicious lips in the world,and see them gently break into a roguish smile―if you are verynear them, and nobody else by―you cannot better testify youradmiration of their beautiful form and colour than by kissing themat once. My uncle did so, and I honour him for it.
‘“Hark!” cried the young lady, starting. “The noise of wheels,and horses!”
‘“So it is,” said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear forwheels, and the trampling122 of hoofs123; but there appeared to be somany horses and carriages rattling towards them, from a distance,that it was impossible to form a guess at their number. The soundwas like that of fifty brakes, with six blood cattle in each.
‘“We are pursued!” cried the young lady, clasping her hands.
“We are pursued. I have no hope but in you!”
‘There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face,that my uncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into thecoach, told her not to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers oncemore, and then advising her to draw up the window to keep thecold air out, mounted to the 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 one word, dearest.”
‘“Must I get down?” inquired my uncle. The lady made noanswer, but she smiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen! It beat theother one, all to nothing. My uncle descended124 from his perch125 in atwinkling.
‘“What is it, my dear?” said my uncle, looking in at the coachwindow. The lady happened to bend forward at the same time,and my uncle thought she looked more beautiful than she haddone yet. He was very close to her just then, gentlemen, so hereally ought to know.
‘“What is it, my dear?” said my uncle.
‘“Will you never love any one but me―never marry any onebeside?” said the young lady.
‘My uncle swore a great oath that he never would marryanybody else, and the young lady drew in her head, and pulled upthe window. He jumped upon the box, squared his elbows,adjusted the ribands, seized the whip which lay on the roof, gaveone flick126 to the off leader, and away went the four long-tailed,flowing-maned black horses, at fifteen good 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 faster came the pursuers―men, horses, dogs, were leagued inthe pursuit. The noise was frightful127, but, above all, rose the voiceof the young lady, urging my uncle on, and shrieking128, “Faster!
Faster!”
‘They whirled past the dark trees, as feathers would be sweptbefore a hurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects ofevery kind they shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaringwaters suddenly let loose. But still the noise of pursuit grewlouder, and still my uncle could hear the young lady wildlyscreaming, “Faster! Faster!”
‘My uncle plied94 whip and rein129, and the horses flew onward130 tillthey were white with foam131; and yet the noise behind increased;and yet the young lady cried, “Faster! Faster!” My uncle gave aloud stamp on the boot in the energy of the moment, and―foundthat it was grey morning, and he was sitting in the wheelwright’syard, on the box of an old Edinburgh mail, shivering with the coldand wet and stamping his feet to warm them! He got down, andlooked eagerly inside for the beautiful young lady. Alas132! There wasneither door nor seat to the coach. It was a mere18 shell.
‘Of course, my uncle knew very well that there was somemystery in the matter, and that everything had passed exactly ashe used to relate it. He remained staunch to the great oath he hadsworn to the beautiful young lady, refusing several eligiblelandladies on her account, and dying a bachelor at last. He alwayssaid what a curious thing it was that he should have found out, bysuch a mere accident as his clambering over the palings, that theghosts of mail-coaches and horses, guards, coachmen, andpassengers, were in the habit of making journeys regularly everynight. He used to add, that he believed he was the only livingperson who had ever been taken as a passenger on one of theseexcursions. 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 withprofound attention.
‘The dead letters, of course,’ said the bagman.
‘Oh, ah! To be sure,’ rejoined the landlord. ‘I never thought ofthat.’
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1
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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walnuts
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| 胡桃（树）( walnut的名词复数 )； 胡桃木 | |
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relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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15
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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16
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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22
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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24
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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25
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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29
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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32
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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33
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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melodiously
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35
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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38
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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39
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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40
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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41
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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42
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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43
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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44
veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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45
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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46
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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47
linings
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| n.衬里( lining的名词复数 )；里子；衬料；组织 | |
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48
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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49
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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50
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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51
remittance
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| n.汇款，寄款，汇兑 | |
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52
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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53
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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54
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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55
renovated
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| 翻新，修复，整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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58
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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59
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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60
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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61
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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62
taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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63
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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64
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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65
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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66
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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67
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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68
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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69
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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70
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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71
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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72
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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73
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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74
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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75
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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76
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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77
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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78
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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79
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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80
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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81
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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83
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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84
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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85
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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86
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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87
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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88
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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89
colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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100
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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acquitting
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的现在分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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102
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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103
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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104
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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106
vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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108
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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111
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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113
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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114
slaughtering
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的现在分词 ) | |
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115
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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116
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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117
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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118
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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120
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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122
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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123
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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124
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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125
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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126
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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127
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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128
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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129
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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130
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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131
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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132
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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