"No," replied Bob Sawyer. "I don't think I ever did."
"Never know'd a churchyard vere there wos a postboy's tombstone, or see a dead postboy, did you?" enquired Sam, pursuing his catechism.
"No," rejoined Bob, " I never did."
"No," rejoined Sam, triumphantly. " Nor never vill ; and there's another thing that no man never see, and that's a dead donkey — no man never see a dead donkey, 'cept the gen'Pm'n in the black silk smalls as know'd the young 'ooman as kept a goat; and that wos a French donkey, so wery likely he warn't vun o' the reg'lar breed."
"Well, what has that got to do with the postboys?" asked Bob Sawyer.
"This here," replied Sam. " Vithout goin' so far as to as-sert, as some wery sensible people do, that postboys and donkeys is both im- mortal, wot I say is this ; that venever they feels theirselves gettin stiff and past their work, they just rides off together, vun postboy to a pair, in the usual vay ; wot becomes on 'em nobody knows, but it's wery probable as they starts avay to take their pleasure in some other vorld, for there ain't a man alive as ever see either a donkey or a postboy a takin' his pleasure in this ! "
Expatiating upon this learned and remarkable theory, and citing many curious statistical and other facts in its support, Sam Weller beguiled the time until they reached Dunchurch, where a dry post-boy and fresh horses were procured ; the next stage was Daventry, and the next Towcester ; and at the end of each stage it rained harder than it had done at the beginning.
" I say," remonstrated Bob Sawyer, looking in at the coach window, as they pulled up before the door of the Saracen's Head, Towcester, "this won't do you know."
"Bless me!" said Mr. Pickwick, just awakening from a nap, " I'm afraid you are wet."
"Oh you are, are you ? " returned Bob. " Yes, I am, a little that way — uncomfortably damp, perhaps."
Bob did look dampish, inasmuch as the rain was streaming from his neck, elbows, cuffs, skirts, and knees ; and his whole apparel shone so with the wet, that it might have been mistaken for a full suit of pre- pared oilskin.
" I am rather wet," said Bob, giving himself a shake, and casting a little hydraulic shower around in so doing, like a Newfoundland dog just emerged from the water.
" I think it's quite impossible to go on to-night," interposed Ben.
"Out of the question, Sir," remarked Sam Weller, coming to assist in the conference ; "it's cruelty to animals. Sir, to ask 'em to do it. There's beds here, Sir," said Sam, addressing his master, "everything clean and comfortable. Wery good little dinner. Sir, they can get ready in half an hour — pair of fowls. Sir, and a weal cutlet ; French beans, 'taturs, tart, and tidiness. You'd better stop vere you are, Sir, if I might recommend. Take adwice. Sir, as the doctor said." i The host of the Saracen's Head opportunely appeared at this moment, to confirm Mr. Weller's statement relative to the accommodations of
