at dickey behind.'

'Oh dear, no,' replied Ben Allen. 'Except when he's elevated, Bob's the
quietest creature breathing.'

Here a prolonged imitation of a key-bugle broke upon the ear, succeeded
by cheers and screams, all of which evidently proceeded from the throat
and lungs of the quietest creature breathing, or in plainer designation,
of Mr. Bob Sawyer himself.

Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen looked expressively at each other, and
the former gentleman taking off his hat, and leaning out of the coach
window until nearly the whole of his waistcoat was outside it, was at
length enabled to catch a glimpse of his facetious friend.

Mr. Bob Sawyer was seated, not in the dickey, but on the roof of the
chaise, with his legs as far asunder as they would conveniently go,
wearing Mr. Samuel Weller's hat on one side of his head, and bearing, in
one hand, a most enormous sandwich, while, in the other, he supported
a goodly-sized case-bottle, to both of which he applied himself with
intense relish, varying the monotony of the occupation by an occasional
howl, or the interchange of some lively badinage with any passing
stranger. The crimson flag was carefully tied in an erect position
to the rail of the dickey; and Mr. Samuel Weller, decorated with Bob
Sawyer's hat, was seated in the centre thereof, discussing a twin
sandwich, with an animated countenance, the expression of which
betokened his entire and perfect approval of the whole arrangement.

This was enough to irritate a gentleman with Mr. Pickwick's sense of
propriety, but it was not the whole extent of the aggravation, for a
stage-coach full, inside and out, was meeting them at the moment,
and the astonishment of the passengers was very palpably evinced. The
congratulations of an Irish family, too, who were keeping up with
the chaise, and begging all the time, were of rather a boisterous
description, especially those of its male head, who appeared to consider
the display as part and parcel of some political or other procession of
triumph.

'Mr. Sawyer!' cried Mr. Pickwick, in a state of great excitement, 'Mr.
Sawyer, Sir!'

'Hollo!' responded that gentleman, looking over the side of the chaise
with all the coolness in life.

'Are you mad, sir?' demanded Mr. Pickwick.

'Not a bit of it,' replied Bob; 'only cheerful.'

'Cheerful, sir!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 'Take down that scandalous red
handkerchief, I beg. I insist, Sir. Sam, take it down.'

Before Sam coul