--"Here and there
it is a heavy road," says my father.--" 'Specially near the canal,
I think," says the gen'l'm'n.--"Nasty bit that 'ere," says my
father.--"Well, Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n, "you're a wery good
whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we know. We're all wery
fond o' you, Mr. Weller, so in case you should have an accident when
you're bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em over into
the canal vithout hurtin' of 'em, this is for yourself," says
he.--"Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind," says my father, "and I'll drink your
health in another glass of wine," says he; vich he did, and then
buttons up the money, and bows himself out. You wouldn't believe, sir,'
continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence at his master,
'that on the wery day as he came down with them woters, his coach WAS
upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the
canal.'

'And got out again?' inquired Mr. Pickwick hastily.

'Why,' replied Sam very slowly, 'I rather think one old gen'l'm'n was
missin'; I know his hat was found, but I ain't quite certain whether
his head was in it or not. But what I look at is the hex-traordinary and
wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n said, my father's
coach should be upset in that wery place, and on that wery day!'

'it is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed,' said Mr.
Pickwick. 'But brush my hat, Sam, for I hear Mr. Winkle calling me to
breakfast.'

With these words Mr. Pickwick descended to the parlour, where he found
breakfast laid, and the family already assembled. The meal was hastily
despatched; each of the gentlemen's hats was decorated with an enormous
blue favour, made up by the fair hands of Mrs. Pott herself; and as
Mr. Winkle had undertaken to escort that lady to a house-top, in the
immediate vicinity of the hustings, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Pott repaired
alone to the Town Arms, from the back window of which, one of Mr.
Slumkey's committee was addressing six small boys and one girl, whom he
dignified, at every second sentence, with the imposing title of 'Men of
Eatanswill,' whereat the six small boys aforesaid cheered prodigiously.

The stable-yard exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the glory and strength
of the Eatanswill Blues. There was a regular army of blue flags, some
with one handle, and some with two, exhibiting appropriate devices, in
golden characters four feet high, and stout in proportion. There