their unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset, -a process which gave them the satisfaction of discovering that they had sustained no injury beyond sundry rents in their garments, and various scratches from the brambles. The next thing to be done was to unharness the horse. This complicated process having been finally effected, the four gentlemen walked slowly forward, leading the horse among them, and abandoning the chaise to its fate.

It was late in the afternoon when the four friends and their four-footed companion turned into the lane leading to Manor Farm; and even when they were so near their place of destination, the pleasure they would have otherwise experienced was damped as they reflected on their appearance, and the absurdity of their situation.

Torn clothes, lacerated faces, dusty shoes, exhausted looks, and, above all, the horse! Oh, how Mr. Pickwick cursed that horse! He had eyed the noble animal from time to time with looks expressive of hatred and revenge; more than once he had calculated the probable amount of the expense he would incur by cutting his throat; and now the temptation to destroy him, or to cast him loose. upon the world, rushed upon his mind with tenfold force. He was roused from a meditation of these dire imaginings by the sudden appearance of two figures at a turn of the lane. It was Mr. Wardle and his faithful attendant, the fat boy.

"Why, where have you been?" said the hospitable old gentleman; "I have been waiting for you all day. Well, you do look tired. What! Scratches! Not hurt, I hope -eh? Well, I am glad to hear that very. So you've been spilt, eh? Never mind. Common accident in these parts. Joe-he's asleep again! - Joe, take that horse from the gentleman, and lead it into the stable."

The fat boy sauntered heavily behind them with the animal; and the old gentleman, condoling with his guests in homely phrase on so much of the day's adventures as they thought proper to communicate, led the way to the kitchen.

"We'll have you put to rights here," said the old gentleman, "and then I'll introduce you to the people in the parlor. Emma, bring a needle and thread; towels and water, Mary. Come, girls, bustle about."

When his guests had been washed, mended, and brushed, Mr. Wardle led them through several dark passages, until they arrived at the parlor door.

"Welcome," said their hospitable host, throwing the door open and stepping forward to announce them, "welcome, gentlemen, to Manor Farm.”

CHARLES DICKENS.

On Christmas morning Mr. Wardle invited Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and his other guests to go down to the pond.

"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Mr. Wardle.
"Ye-s; oh! yes," replied Mr. Winkle. “I—I—

am rather out of practice."

66

"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella.

to see it so much."

66

66

"I like

Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady.

A third young lady said it was "elegant," and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was "swanlike."

"I should be very happy, I am sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening," but I have no skates."

This objection was at once overruled.

Trundle had

a couple of pairs, and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncomfortable.

1 See note on page 263.

2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary.

Mr. Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy and Mr. Weller having shovelled and swept away the snow which had fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies,—which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm, when Mr. Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic. evolutions, which they called a reel.

All this time Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his shoes, and putting his skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone, off with you, and show them how to do it."

"Stop, Sam, stop! said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it is, Sam!"