Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Containing the Story of the Bagman’s Uncle

           Theyseemedtostartup,insomestrangemanner,fromtheground,ortheair,anddisappearinthesameway.Whenaporterhadputhisluggageinthecoach,andreceivedhisfare,heturnedroundandwasgone;andbeforemyunclehadwellbeguntowonderwhathadbecomeofhim,halfadozenfreshonesstartedup,andstaggeredalongundertheweightofparcels,whichseemedbigenoughtocrushthem.Thepassengerswerealldressedsooddlytoo!Large,broad-skirtedlacedcoats,withgreatcuffsandnocollars;andwigs,gentlemengreatformalwigswithatiebehind.Myunclecouldmakenothingofit.

           ‘"Now,areyougoingtogetin?"saidthepersonwhohadaddressedmyunclebefore.Hewasdressedasamailguard,withawigonhisheadandmostenormouscuffstohiscoat,andhadalanterninonehand,andahugeblunderbussintheother,whichhewasgoingtostowawayinhislittlearm-chest."AREyougoingtogetin,JackMartin?"saidtheguard,holdingthelanterntomyuncle’sface.

           ‘"Hollo!"saidmyuncle,fallingbackasteportwo."That’sfamiliar!"

           ‘"It’ssoontheway-bill,"saidtheguard.

           ‘"Isn’ttherea‘Mister’beforeit?"saidmyuncle.Forhefelt,gentlemen,thatforaguardhedidn’tknow,tocallhimJackMartin,wasalibertywhichthePostOfficewouldn’thavesanctionediftheyhadknownit.

           ‘"No,thereisnot,"rejoinedtheguardcoolly.

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