turn.
'Gentlemen, my uncle walked on with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets,
taking the middle of the street to himself, and singing, now a verse of
a love song, and then a verse of a drinking one, and when he was tired
of both, whistling melodiously, until he reached the North Bridge,
which, at this point, connects the old and new towns of Edinburgh. Here
he stopped for a minute, to look at the strange, irregular clusters of
lights piled one above the other, and twinkling afar off so high, that
they looked like stars, gleaming from the castle walls on the one side
and the Calton Hill on the other, as if they illuminated veritable
castles in the air; while the old picturesque town slept heavily on, in
gloom and darkness below: its palace and chapel of Holyrood, guarded day
and night, as a friend of my uncle's used to say, by old Arthur's Seat,
towering, surly and dark, like some gruff genius, over the ancient city
he has watched so long. I say, gentlemen, my uncle stopped here, for a
minute, to look about him; and then, paying a compliment to the weather,
which had a little cleared up, though the moon was sinking, walked on
again, as royally as before; keeping the middle of the road with great
dignity, and looking as if he would very much like to meet with somebody
who would dispute possession of it with him. There was nobody at all
disposed to contest the point, as it happened; and so, on he went, with
his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, like a lamb.
'When my uncle reached the end of Leith Walk, he had to cross a pretty
large piece of waste ground which separated him from a short street
which he had to turn down to go direct to his lodging. Now, in this
piece of waste ground, there was, at that time, an enclosure belonging
to some wheelwright who contracted with the Post Office for the purchase
of old, worn-out mail coaches; and my uncle, being very fond of coaches,
old, young, or middle-aged, all at once took it into his head to step
out of his road for no other purpose than to peep between the palings at
these mails--about a dozen of which he remembered to have seen, crowded
together in a very forlorn and dismantled state, inside. My uncle was a
very enthusiastic, emphatic sort of person, gentlemen; so, finding that
he could not obtain a good peep between the palings he got over
them, and sitting himself quietly down on an old axle-tree, began to
contemplate the mail coaches with a deal of gravity.
'There might be a dozen of them, or there might be more--my uncle was
never quite certain on this point, and being a man of very scrupulous
veracity about numbers, didn't like to say--but there they stood, all
huddled together in the most desolate condition imaginable. The doors
had been torn from their hinges and removed; the linings had been
stripped off, only a shred hanging here and there by a rusty nail; the
lamps were gone, the poles had long since vanished, the ironwork was
rusty, the paint was worn away; the wind whistled through the chinks in
the bare woodwork; and the rain, which had collected on the roofs, fell,
drop by drop, into the insides with a hollow and melancholy sound. They
were the decaying skeletons of departed mails, and in that lonely place,
at that time of night, they looked chill and dismal.
'My uncle rested his head upon his hands, and thought of the busy,
bustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the old coaches,
and were now as silent and changed; he thought of the numbers of people
to whom one of these crazy, mouldering vehicles had borne, night after
night, for many years, and through all weathers, the anxiously expected
intelligence, the eagerly looked-for remittance, the promised assurance
of health and safety, the sudden announcement of sickness and death. The
merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the school-boy,
the very child who tottered to the door at the postman's knock--how had
they all looked forward to the arrival of the old coach. And where were
they all now? 'Gentlemen, my uncle used to SAY that he thought all
this at the time, but I rather suspect he learned it out of some book
afterwards, for he distinctly stated that he fell into a kind of doze,
as he sat on the old axle-tree looking at the decayed mail coaches, and
that he was suddenly awakened by some deep church bell striking two.
Now, my uncle was never a fast thinker, and if he had thought all these
things, I am quite certain it would have taken him till full half-past
two o'clock at the very least. I am, therefore, decidedly of opinion,
gentlemen, that my uncle fell into a kind of doze, without having
thought about anything at all.
'Be this as it may, a church bell struck two. My uncle woke, rubbed his
eyes, and jumped up in astonishment.
'In one instant, after the clock struck two, the whole of this deserted
and quiet spot had become a scene of most extraordinary life and
animation. The mail coach doors were on their hinges, the lining was
replaced, the ironwork was as good as new, the paint was restored, the
lamps were alight; cushions and greatcoats were on every coach-box,
porters were thrusting parcels into every boot, guards were stowing away
letter-bags, hostlers were dashing pails of water against the renovated
wheels; numbers of men were pushing about, fixing poles into every
coach; passengers arrived, portmanteaus were handed up, horses were put
to; in short, it was perfectly clear that every mail there, was to be
off directly. Gentlemen, my uncle opened his eyes so wide at all this,
that, to the very last moment of his life, he used to wonder how it fell
out that he had ever been able to shut 'em again.
'"Now then!" said a voice, as my uncle felt a hand on his shoulder,
"you're booked for one inside. You'd better get in."
'"I booked!" said my uncle, turning round.
'"Yes, certainly."
'My uncle, gentlemen, could say nothing, he was so very much astonished.
The queerest thing of all was that although there was such a crowd of
persons, and although fresh faces were pouring in, every moment, there
was no telling where they came from. They seemed to start up, in some
strange manner, from the ground, or the air, and disappear in the same
way. When a porter had put his luggage in the coach, and received his
fare, he turned round and was gone; and before my uncle had well begun
to wonder what had become of him, half a dozen fresh ones started up,
and staggered along under the weight of parcels, which seemed big enough
to crush them. The passengers were all dressed so oddly too! Large,
broad-skirted laced coats, with great cuffs and no collars; and wigs,
gentlemen--great formal wigs with a tie behind. My uncle could make
nothing of it.
'"Now, are you going to get in?" said the person who had addressed my
uncle before. He was dressed as a mail guard, with a wig on his head and
most enormous cuffs to his coat, and had a lantern in one hand, and a
huge blunderbuss in the other, which he was going to stow away in his
little arm-chest. "ARE you going to get in, Jack Martin?" said the
guard, holding the lantern to my uncle's face.
'"Hollo!" said my uncle, falling back a step or two. "That's familiar!"
'"It's so on the way-bill," said the guard.
'"Isn't there a 'Mister' before it?" said my uncle. For he felt,
gentlemen, that for a guard he didn't know, to call him Jack Martin,
was a liberty which the Post Office wouldn't have sanctioned if they had
known it.
'"No, there is not," rejoined the guard coolly.
'"Is the fare paid?" inquired my uncle.
'"Of course it is," rejoined the guard.
'"It is, is it?" said my uncle. "Then here goes! Which coach?"
'"This," said the guard, pointing to an old-fashioned Edinburgh and
London mail, which had the steps down and the door open. "Stop! Here are
the other passengers. Let them get in first."
'As the guard spoke, there all at once appeared, right in front of my
uncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig, and a sky-blue coat trimmed
with silver, made very full and broad in the skirts, which were lined
with buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in the printed calico and waistcoat
piece line, gentlemen, so my uncle knew all the materials at once.
He wore knee breeches, and a kind of leggings rolled up over his silk
stockings, and shoes with buckles; he had ruffles at his wrists, a
three-cornered hat on his head, and a long taper sword by his side. The
flaps of his waist-coat came half-way down his thighs, and the ends of
his cravat reached to his waist. He stalked gravely to the coach door,
pulled off his hat, and held it above his head at arm's length, cocking
his little finger in the air at the same time, as some affected people
do, when they take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together, and
made a low, grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My uncle was just
going to step forward, and shake it heartily, when he perceived that
these attentions were directed, not towards him, but to a young lady who
just then appeared at the foot of the steps, attired in an old-fashioned
green velvet dress with a long waist and stomacher. She had no bonnet
on her head, gentlemen, which was muffled in a black silk hood, but she
looked round for an instant as she prepared to get into the coach, and
such a beautiful face as she disclosed, my uncle had never seen--not
even in a picture. She got into the coach, holding up her dress with one
hand; and as my uncle always said with a round oath, when he told the
story, he wouldn't have believed it possible that legs and feet could
have been brought to such a state of perfection unless he had seen them
with his own eyes.
'But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw that
the young lady cast an imploring look upon him, and that she appeared
terrified and distressed. He noticed, too, that the young fellow in the
powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry, which was all very
fine and grand, clasped her tight by the wrist when she got in, and
followed himself immediately afterwards. An uncommonly ill-looking
fellow, in a close brown wig, and a plum-coloured suit, wearing a very
large sword, and boots up to his hips, belonged to the party; and when
he sat himself down next to the young lady, who shrank into a corner
at his approach, my uncle was confirmed in his original impression that
something dark and mysterious was going forward, or, as he always said
himself, that "there was a screw loose somewhere." It's quite surprising
how quickly he made up his mind to help the lady at any peril, if she
needed any help.
'"Death and lightning!" exclaimed the young gentleman, laying his hand
upon his sword as my uncle entered the coach.
'"Blood and thunder!" roared the other gentleman. With this, he whipped
his sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle without further ceremony. My
uncle had no weapon about him, but with great dexterity he snatched the
ill-looking gentleman's three-cornered hat from his head, and, receiving
the point of his sword right through the crown, squeezed the sides
together, and held it tight.
'"Pink him behind!" cried the ill-looking gentleman to his companion, as
he struggled to regain his sword.
'"He had better not," cried my uncle, displaying the heel of one of his
shoes, in a threatening manner. "I'll kick his brains out, if he has
any--, or fracture his skull if he hasn't." Exerting all his strength,
at this moment, my uncle wrenched the ill-looking man's sword from
his grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach window, upon which the
younger gentleman vociferated, "Death and lightning!" again, and laid
his hand upon the hilt of his sword, in a very fierce manner, but didn't
draw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, as my uncle used to say with a smile,
perhaps he was afraid of alarming the lady.
'"Now, gentlemen," said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately, "I don't
want to have any death, with or without lightning, in a lady's presence,
and we have had quite blood and thundering enough for one journey; so,
if you please, we'll sit in our places like quiet insides. Here, guard,
pick up that gentleman's carving-knife."
'As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared at the coach
window, with the gentleman's sword in his hand. He held up his lantern,
and looked earnestly in my uncle's face, as he handed it in, when, by
its light, my uncle saw, to his great surprise, that an immense crowd
of mail-coach guards swarmed round the window, every one of whom had his
eyes earnestly fixed upon him too. He had never seen such a sea of white
faces, red bodies, and earnest eyes, in all his born days.
'"This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to do with,"
thought my uncle; "allow me to return you your hat, sir."
'The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat in silence,
looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air, and finally
stuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the effect of which was
a trifle impaired by his sneezing violently at the moment, and jerking
it off again.
'"All right!" cried the guard with the lantern, mounting into his little
seat behind. Away they went. My uncle peeped out of the coach window
as they emerged from the yard, and observed that the other mails, with
coachmen, guards, horses, and passengers, complete, were driving round
and round in circles, at a slow trot of about five miles an hour. My
uncle burned with indignation, gentlemen. As a commercial man, he felt
that the mail-bags were not to be trifled with, and he resolved to
memorialise the Post Office on the subject, the very instant he reached
