round the sharp corner by the cheesemonger's
shop, and turns into the market-place; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who
sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up at the inn
yard where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting. The
coachman throws down the reins and gets down himself, and the other
outside passengers drop down also; except those who have no great
confidence in their ability to get up again; and they remain where they
are, and stamp their feet against the coach to warm them--looking, with
longing eyes and red noses, at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the
sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament the window.

But the guard has delivered at the corn-dealer's shop, the brown paper
packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his shoulder
by a leathern strap; and has seen the horses carefully put to; and has
thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from London on the
coach roof; and has assisted in the conference between the coachman and
the hostler about the gray mare that hurt her off fore-leg last Tuesday;
and he and Mr. Weller are all right behind, and the coachman is all
right in front, and the old gentleman inside, who has kept the window
down full two inches all this time, has pulled it up again, and the
cloths are off, and they are all ready for starting, except the 'two
stout gentlemen,' whom the coachman inquires after with some impatience.
Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle,
and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers,
who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for the
missing gentlemen as loud as they can bawl. A distant response is heard
from the yard, and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come running down it,
quite out of breath, for they have been having a glass of ale a-piece,
and Mr. Pickwick's fingers are so cold that he has been full five
minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay for it. The coachman
shouts an admonitory 'Now then, gen'l'm'n,' the guard re-echoes it; the
old gentleman inside thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people
WILL get down when they know there isn't time for it; Mr. Pickwick
struggles up on one side, Mr. Tupman on the other; Mr. Winkle cries
'All right'; and off they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are
readjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses disappear; and they are once
again dashing along the open road, with th