536 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF
" Dine ! " said Mr. Pickwick. Why, we have only come nineteen miles, and have got eighty-seven and a half to go."
" Just the reason why we should take something to enable us to bear up against the fatigue/' remonstrated Mr. Bob Sawyer.
<^ Oh, it's quite impossible to dine at half-past eleven o'clock in the day/' replied Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch.
" So it is," rejoined Bob, " lunch is the very thing. Hallo, you Sir ! Lunch for three directly ; and keep the horses back for a quarter of an hour. Tell them to put every thing they have got cold, on the table, and some bottled ale, — and let us taste your very best Madeira." Issuing these orders Avith monstrous importance and bustle, Mr. Bob Sawyer at once hurried into the house to superintend the arrange- ments ; in less than five minutes he returned and declared them to be excellent.
The quality of the lunch fully justified the eulogium which Bob had pronounced, and very great justice was done to it, not only by that gentleman, but Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Pickwick also. Under the auspices of the three, the bottled ale and the Madeira were promptly disposed of; and when (the horses being once more put to) they re- sumed their seats, with the case-bottle full of the best substitute for milk-punch that could be procured on so short a notice, the key-bugle sounded and the red flag waved without the slightest opposition on Mr. Pickwick's part.
At the Hop Pole at Tewkesbury they stopped to dine ; upon which occasion there was more bottled ale, with some more Madeira, and some Port besides ; and here the case-bottle was replenished for the fourth time. Under the influence of these combined stimulants, Mr. Pick- wick and Mr. Ben Allen fell fast asleep for thirty miles, while Bob and Mr. Weller sang duets in the dickey.
It was quite dark when Mr. Pickwick roused himself sufficiently to look out of the window. The straggling cottages by the road -side, the dingy hue of every object visible, the murky atmosphere, the paths of cinders and brick dust, the deep red glow of furnace fires in the dis- tance, the volumes of dense smoke issuing heavily forth from high toppling chimneys, blackening and obscuring every thing around ; the glare of distant lights, the ponderous waggons which toiled along the road, laden with clashing rods of iron, or piled with heavy goods — all betokened their rapid approach to the great working town of Birming- ham.
As they rattled through the narrow thoroughfares leading to the heart of the turmoil, the sights and sounds of earnest occupation struck more forcibly on the senses. The streets were thronged with work- ing-people. The hum of labour resounded from every house ; lights gleamed from the long casement windows in the attic stories, and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery shook the trembling walls. The fires, whose lurid sullen light had been visible for miles, blazed fiercely up in the great works and factories of the town. The din of hammers, the rushing of steam, and the dead heavy clanking of the engines, was the harsh music which arose from every quarter.
