how are you, sir (to Mr. Winkle)? Well, I
am glad to hear you say you are well; very glad I am, to be sure. My
daughters, gentlemen--my gals these are; and that's my sister, Miss
Rachael Wardle. She's a Miss, she is; and yet she ain't a Miss--eh, Sir,
eh?' And the stout gentleman playfully inserted his elbow between the
ribs of Mr. Pickwick, and laughed very heartily.

'Lor, brother!' said Miss Wardle, with a deprecating smile.

'True, true,' said the stout gentleman; 'no one can deny it. Gentlemen,
I beg your pardon; this is my friend Mr. Trundle. And now you all
know each other, let's be comfortable and happy, and see what's
going forward; that's what I say.' So the stout gentleman put on his
spectacles, and Mr. Pickwick pulled out his glass, and everybody stood
up in the carriage, and looked over somebody else's shoulder at the
evolutions of the military.

Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing over the heads of
another rank, and then running away; and then the other rank firing
over the heads of another rank, and running away in their turn; and then
forming squares, with officers in the centre; and then descending the
trench on one side with scaling-ladders, and ascending it on the other
again by the same means; and knocking down barricades of baskets, and
behaving in the most gallant manner possible. Then there was such a
ramming down of the contents of enormous guns on the battery, with
instruments like magnified mops; such a preparation before they were let
off, and such an awful noise when they did go, that the air resounded
with the screams of ladies. The young Misses Wardle were so frightened,
that Mr. Trundle was actually obliged to hold one of them up in the
carriage, while Mr. Snodgrass supported the other; and Mr. Wardle's
sister suffered under such a dreadful state of nervous alarm, that Mr.
Tupman found it indispensably necessary to put his arm round her waist,
to keep her up at all. Everybody was excited, except the fat boy, and he
slept as soundly as if the roaring of cannon were his ordinary lullaby.

'Joe, Joe!' said the stout gentleman, when the citadel was taken, and
the besiegers and besieged sat down to dinner. 'Damn that boy, he's gone
to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him, sir--in the leg, if you
please; nothing else wakes him--thank you. Undo the hamper, Joe.'

The fat boy, who had been effectually roused by the compression of a
portion of his leg between the finger and thu