he supper was ready laid, the chairs were drawn round thetable, bottles, jugs, and glasses were arranged upon thesideboard, and everything betokened the approach of themost convivial period in the whole four-and-twenty hours.

　　'Where's Rachael?' said Mr. Wardle.

　　'Ay, and Jingle?' added Mr. Pickwick.

　　'Dear me,' said the host, 'I wonder I haven't missed him before.

　　Why, I don't think I've heard his voice for two hours at least.

　　Emily, my dear, ring the bell.'

　　The bell was rung, and the fat boy appeared.

　　'Where's Miss Rachael?' He couldn't say. 'Where's Mr. Jingle,then?' He didn't know. Everybody looked surprised. It was late―past eleven o'clock. Mr. Tupman laughed in his sleeve. They wereloitering somewhere, talking about him. Ha, ha! capital notionthat―funny.

　　'Never mind,' said Wardle, after a short pause. 'They'll turn uppresently, I dare say. I never wait supper for anybody.'

　　'Excellent rule, that,' said Mr. Pickwick―'admirable.'

　　'Pray, sit down,' said the host.

　　'Certainly' said Mr. Pickwick; and down they sat.

　　There was a gigantic round of cold beef on the table, and Mr.

　　Pickwick was supplied with a plentiful portion of it. He had raisedhis fork to his lips, and was on the very point of opening his mouthfor the reception of a piece of beef, when the hum of many voicessuddenly arose in the kitchen. He paused, and laid down his fork.

　　Mr. Wardle paused too, and insensibly released his hold of thecarving-knife, which remained inserted in the beef. He looked atMr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick looked at him.

　　Heavy footsteps were heard in the passage; the parlour doorwas suddenly burst open; and the man who had cleaned Mr.

　　Pickwick's boots on his first arrival, rushed into the room,followed by the fat boy and all the domestics. 'What the devil's themeaning of this?' exclaimed the host.

　　'The kitchen chimney ain't a-fire, is it, Emma?' inquired the oldlady. 'Lor, grandma! No,' screamed both the young ladies.

　　'What's the matter?' roared the master of the house.

　　The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejaculated―'They ha' gone, mas'r!―gone right clean off, sir!' (At thisjuncture Mr. Tupman was observed to lay down his knife and fork,and to turn very pale.)'Who's gone?' said Mr. Wardle fiercely.

　　'Mus'r Jingle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, from Blue Lion,Muggleton. I was there; but I couldn't stop 'em; so I run off to tell'ee.'

　　'I paid his expenses!' said Mr. Tupman, jumping up frantically.

　　'He's got ten pounds of mine!―stop him!―he's swindled me!―Iwon't bear it!―I'll have justice, Pickwick!―I won't stand it!' andwith sundry incoherent exclamations of the like nature, theunhappy gentleman spun round and round the apartment, in atransport of frenzy.

　　'Lord preserve us!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, eyeing theextraordinary gestures of his friend with terrified surprise. 'He'sgone mad! What shall we do?'

　　'Do!' said the stout old host, who regarded only the last words ofthe sentence. 'Put the horse in the gig! I'll get a chaise at the Lion,and follow 'em instantly. Where?'―he exclaimed, as the man ranout to execute the commission―'where's that villain, Joe?'

　　'Here I am! but I hain't a willin,' replied a voice. It was the fatboy's.

　　'Let me get at him, Pickwick,' cried Wardle, as he rushed at theill-starred youth. 'He was bribed by that scoundrel, Jingle, to putme on a wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-bull story of my sisterand your friend Tupman!' (Here Mr. Tupman sank into a chair.)'Let me get at him!'

　　'Don't let him!' screamed all the women, above whoseexclamations the blubbering of the fat boy was distinctly audible.

　　'I won't be held!' cried the old man. 'Mr. Winkle, take yourhands off. Mr. Pickwick, let me go, sir!'

　　It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of turmoil andconfusion, to behold the placid and philosophical expression ofMr. Pickwick's face, albeit somewhat flushed with exertion, as hestood with his arms firmly clasped round the extensive waist oftheir corpulent host, thus restraining the impetuosity of hispassion, while the fat boy was scratched, and pulled, and pushedfrom the room by all the females congregated therein. He had nosooner released his hold, than the man entered to announce thatthe gig was ready.

　　'Don't let him go alone!' screamed the females. 'He'll killsomebody!'

　　'I'll go with him,' said Mr. Pickwick.

　　'You're a good fellow, Pickwick,' said the host, grasping hishand. 'Emma, give Mr. Pickwick a shawl to tie round his neck―make haste. Look after your grandmother, girls; she has faintedaway. Now then, are you ready?'

　　Mr. Pickwick's mouth and chin having been hastily envelopedin a large shawl, his hat having been put on his head, and hisgreatcoat thrown over his arm, he replied in the affirmative.

　　They jumped into the gig. 'Give her her head, Tom,' cried thehost; and away they went, down the narrow lanes; jolting in andout of the cart-ruts, and bumping up against the hedges on eitherside, as if they would go to pieces every moment.

　　'How much are they ahead?' shouted Wardle, as they drove upto the door of the Blue Lion, round which a little crowd hadcollected, late as it was.

　　'Not above three-quarters of an hour,' was everybody's reply.

　　'Chaise-and-four directly!―out with 'em! Put up the gigafterwards.'

　　'Now, boys!' cried the landlord―'chaise-and-four out―makehaste―look alive there!'

　　Away ran the hostlers and the boys. The lanterns glimmered, asthe men ran to and fro; the horses' hoofs clattered on the unevenpaving of the yard; the chaise rumbled as it was drawn out of thecoach-house; and all was noise and bustle.

　　'Now then!―is that chaise coming out to-night?' cried Wardle.

　　'Coming down the yard now, sir,' replied the hostler.

　　Out came the chaise―in went the horses―on sprang the boys―in got the travellers.

　　'Mind―the seven-mile stage in less than half an hour!' shoutedWardle.

　　'Off with you!'

　　The boys applied whip and spur, the waiters shouted, thehostlers cheered, and away they went, fast and furiously.

　　'Pretty situation,' thought Mr. Pickwick, when he had had amoment's time for reflection. 'Pretty situation for the generalchairman of the Pickwick Club. Damp chaise―strange horses―fifteen miles an hour―and twelve o'clock at night!'

　　For the first three or four miles, not a word was spoken byeither of the gentlemen, each being too much immersed in his ownreflections to address any observations to his companion. Whenthey had gone over that much ground, however, and the horsesgetting thoroughly warmed began to do their work in really goodstyle, Mr. Pickwick became too much exhilarated with the rapidityof the motion, to remain any longer perfectly mute.

　　'We're sure to catch them, I think,' said he.

　　'Hope so,' replied his companion.

　　'Fine night,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at the moon, whichwas shining brightly.

　　'So much the worse,' returned Wardle; 'for they'll have had allthe advantage of the moonlight to get the start of us, and we shalllose it. It will have gone down in another hour.'

　　'It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the dark, won'tit?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

　　'I dare say it will,' replied his friend dryly.

　　Mr. Pickwick's temporary excitement began to sober down alittle, as he reflected upon the inconveniences and dangers of theexpedition in which he had so thoughtlessly embarked. He wasroused by a loud shouting of the post-boy on the leader.

　　'Yo-yo-yo-yo-yoe!' went the first boy.

　　'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' went the second.

　　'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, withhis head and half his body out of the coach window.

　　'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking up the burden ofthe cry, though he had not the slightest notion of its meaning orobject. And amidst the yo-yoing of the whole four, the chaisestopped.

　　'What's the matter?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

　　'There's a gate here,' replied old Wardle. 'We shall hearsomething of the fugitives.'

　　After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knockingand shouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged fromthe turnpike-house, and opened the gate.

　　'How long is it since a post-chaise went through here?' inquiredMr. Wardle.

　　'How long?'

　　'ah!'

　　'Why, I don't rightly know. It worn't a long time ago, nor itworn't a short time ago―just between the two, perhaps.'

　　'Has any chaise been by at all?'

　　'Oh, yes, there's been a Shay by.'

　　'How long ago, my friend,' interposed Mr. Pickwick; 'an hour?'

　　'Ah, I dare say it might be,' replied the man.

　　'Or two hours?' inquired the post-boy on the wheeler.

　　'Well, I shouldn't wonder if it was,' returned the old mandoubtfully.

　　'Drive on, boys,' cried the testy old gentleman; 'don't waste anymore time with that old idiot!'

　　'Idiot!' exclaimed the old man with a grin, as he stood in themiddle of the road with the gate half-closed, watching the chaisewhich rapidly diminished in the increasing distance. 'No―notmuch o' that either; you've lost ten minutes here, and gone awayas wise as you came, arter all. If every man on the line as has aguinea give him, earns it half as well, you won't catch t'other shaythis side Mich'lmas, old short-and-fat.' And with anotherprolonged grin, the old man closed the gate, re-entered his house,and bolted the door after him.

　　Meanwhile the chaise proceeded, without any slackening ofpace, towards the conclusion of the stage. The moon, as Wardlehad foretold, was rapidly on the wane; large tiers of dark, heavyclouds, which had been gradually overspreading the sky for sometime past, now formed one black mass overhead; and large dropsof rain which pattered every now and then against the windows ofthe chaise, seemed to warn the travellers of the rapid approach ofa stormy night. The wind, too, which was directly against them,swept in furious gusts down the narrow road, and howled dismallythrough the trees which skirted the pathway. Mr. Pickwick drewhis coat closer about him, coiled himself more snugly up into thecorner of the chaise, and fell into a sound sleep, from which hewas only awakened by the stopping of the vehicle, the sound of thehostler's bell, and a loud cry of 'Horses on directly!'

　　But here another delay occurred. The boys were sleeping withsuch mysterious soundness, that it took five minutes a-piece towake them. The hostler had somehow or other mislaid the key ofthe stable, and even when that was found, two sleepy helpers putthe wrong harness on the wrong horses, and the whole process ofharnessing had to be gone through afresh. Had Mr. Pickwick beenalone, these multiplied obstacles would have completely put anend to the pursuit at once, but old Wardle was not to be so easilydaunted; and he laid about him with such hearty good-will, cuffingthis man, and pushing that; strapping a buckle here, and taking ina link there, that the chaise was ready in a much shorter time thancould reasonably have been expected, under so many difficulties.

　　They resumed their journey; and certainly the prospect beforethem was by no means encouraging. The stage was fifteen mileslong, the night was dark, the wind high, and the rain pouring intorrents. It was impossible to make any great way against suchobstacles united; it was hard upon one o'clock already; and nearlytwo hours were consumed in getting to the end of the stage. Here,however, an object presented itself, which rekindled their hopes,and reanimated their drooping spirits.

　　'When did this chaise come in?' cried old Wardle, leaping out ofhis own vehicle, and pointing to one covered with wet mud, whichwas standing in the yard.

　　'Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir,' replied the hostler, to whomthe question was addressed. 'Lady and gentleman?' inquiredWardle, almost breathless with impatience.

　　'Yes, sir.'

　　'Tall gentleman―dress-coat―long legs―thin body?'

　　'Yes, sir.'

　　'Elderly lady―thin face―rather skinny―eh?'

　　'Yes, sir.'

　　'By heavens, it's the couple, Pickwick,' exclaimed the oldgentleman.

　　'Would have been here before,' said the hostler, 'but they brokea trace.'

　　''Tis them!' said Wardle, 'it is, by Jove! Chaise-and-fourinstantly! We shall catch them yet before they reach the nextstage. A guinea a-piece, boys-be alive there―bustle about―there'sgood fellows.'

　　And with such admonitions as these, the old gentleman ran upand down the yard, and bustled to and fro, in a state of excitementwhich communicated itself to Mr. Pickwick also; and under theinfluence of which, that gentleman got himself into complicatedentanglements with harness, and mixed up with horses andwheels of chaises, in the most surprising manner, firmly believingthat by so doing he was materially forwarding the preparations fortheir resuming their journey.

　　'Jump in―jump in!' cried old Wardle, climbing into the chaise,pulling up the steps, and slamming the door after him. 'Comealong! Make haste!' And before Mr. Pickwick knew precisely whathe was about, he felt himself forced in at the other door, by onepull from the old gentleman and one push from the hostler; and offthey were again.

　　'Ah! we are moving now,' said the old gentleman exultingly.

　　They were indeed, as was sufficiently testified to Mr. Pickwick, byhis constant collision either with the hard wood-work of thechaise, or the body of his companion.

　　'Hold up!' said the stout old Mr. Wardle, as Mr. Pickwick divedhead foremost into his capacious waistcoat.

　　'I never did feel such a jolting in my life,' said Mr. Pickwick.

　　'Never mind,' replied his companion, 'it will soon be over.

　　Steady, steady.'

　　Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his own corner, as firmly ashe could; and on whirled the chaise faster than ever.

　　They had travelled in this way about three miles, when Mr.

　　Wardle, who had been looking out of the Window for two or threeminutes, suddenly drew in his face, covered with splashes, andexclaimed in breathless eagerness―'Here they are!'

　　Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of his window. Yes: there wasa chaise-and-four, a short distance before them, dashing along atfull gallop.

　　'Go on, go on,' almost shrieked the old gentleman. 'Two guineasa-piece, boys―don't let 'em gain on us―keep it up―keep it up.'

　　The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed;and those in Mr. Wardle's galloped furiously behind them.

　　'I see his head,' exclaimed the choleric old man; 'damme, I seehis head.'

　　'So do I' said Mr. Pickwick; 'that's he.' Mr. Pickwick was notmistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle, completely coated withmud thrown up by the wheels, was plainly discernible at thewindow of his chaise; and the motion of his arm, which waswaving violently towards the postillions, denoted that he wasencouraging them to increased exertion.

　　The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges, seemed torush past them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was thepace at which they tore along. They were close by the side of thefirst chaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly heard, even above thedin of the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed withrage and excitement. He roared out scoundrels and villains by thedozen, clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the object ofhis indignation; but Mr. Jingle only answered with acontemptuous smile, and replied to his menaces by a shout oftriumph, as his horses, answering the increased application ofwhip and spur, broke into a faster gallop, and left the pursuersbehind.

　　Mr. Pickwick had just drawn in his head, and Mr. Wardle,exhausted with shouting, had done the same, when a tremendousjolt threw them forward against the front of the vehicle. There wasa sudden bump―a loud crash―away rolled a wheel, and overwent the chaise.

　　After a very few seconds of bewilderment and confusion, inwhich nothing but the plunging of horses, and breaking of glasscould be made out, Mr. Pickwick felt himself violently pulled outfrom among the ruins of the chaise; and as soon as he had gainedhis feet, extricated his head from the skirts of his greatcoat, whichmaterially impeded the usefulness of his spectacles, the fulldisaster of the case met his view.

　　Old Mr. Wardle without a hat, and his clothes torn in severalplaces, stood by his side, and the fragments of the chaise layscattered at their feet. The post-boys, who had succeeded incutting the traces, were standing, disfigured with mud anddisordered by hard riding, by the horses' heads. About a hundredyards in advance was the other chaise, which had pulled up onhearing the crash. The postillions, each with a broad grinconvulsing his countenance, were viewing the adverse party fromtheir saddles, and Mr. Jingle was contemplating the wreck fromthe coach window, with evident satisfaction. The day was justbreaking, and the whole scene was rendered perfectly visible bythe grey light of the morning.

　　'Hollo!' shouted the shameless Jingle, 'anybody damaged?―elderly gentlemen―no light weights―dangerous work―very.'

　　'You're a rascal,' roared Wardle.

　　'Ha! ha!' replied Jingle; and then he added, with a knowingwink, and a jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise―'Isay―she's very well―desires her compliments―begs you won'ttrouble yourself―love to Tuppy―won't you get up behind?―driveon, boys.'

　　The postillions resumed their proper attitudes, and awayrattled the chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a whitehandkerchief from the coach window.

　　Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the upset, haddisturbed the calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwick's temper.

　　The villainy, however, which could first borrow money of hisfaithful follower, and then abbreviate his name to 'Tuppy,' wasmore than he could patiently bear. He drew his breath hard, andcoloured up to the very tips of his spectacles, as he said, slowly andemphatically―'If ever I meet that man again, I'll―'

　　'Yes, yes,' interrupted Wardle, 'that's all very well; but while westand talking here, they'll get their licence, and be married inLondon.'

　　Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked itdown. 'How far is it to the next stage?' inquired Mr. Wardle, of oneof the boys.

　　'Six mile, ain't it, Tom?'

　　'Rayther better.'

　　'Rayther better nor six mile, sir.'

　　'Can't be helped,' said Wardle, 'we must walk it, Pickwick.'

　　'No help for it,' replied that truly great man.

　　So sending forward one of the boys on horseback, to procure afresh chaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take careof the broken one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfullyforward on the walk, first tying their shawls round their necks,and slouching down their hats to escape as much as possible fromthe deluge of rain, which after a slight cessation had again begunto pour heavily down.