ided
inclination to back into the coffee-room window. 'Wo-o!' echoed
Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass, from the bin. 'Only his playfulness,
gen'lm'n,' said the head hostler encouragingly; 'jist kitch hold on
him, Villiam.' The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and the
principal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting.

'T'other side, sir, if you please.'

'Blowed if the gen'lm'n worn't a-gettin' up on the wrong side,'
whispered a grinning post-boy to the inexpressibly gratified waiter.

Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle, with about as
much difficulty as he would have experienced in getting up the side of a
first-rate man-of-war.

'All right?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it
was all wrong.

'All right,' replied Mr. Winkle faintly.

'Let 'em go,' cried the hostler.--'Hold him in, sir;' and away went the
chaise, and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pickwick on the box of the
one, and Mr. Winkle on the back of the other, to the delight and
gratification of the whole inn-yard.

'What makes him go sideways?' said Mr. Snodgrass in the bin, to Mr.
Winkle in the saddle.

'I can't imagine,' replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was drifting up the
street in the most mysterious manner--side first, with his head towards
one side of the way, and his tail towards the other.

Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either this or any other
particular, the whole of his faculties being concentrated in the
management of the animal attached to the chaise, who displayed various
peculiarities, highly interesting to a bystander, but by no means
equally amusing to any one seated behind him. Besides constantly jerking
his head up, in a very unpleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging
at the reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great difficulty
for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular propensity for darting
suddenly every now and then to the side of the road, then stopping
short, and then rushing forward for some minutes, at a speed which it
was wholly impossible to control.

'What CAN he mean by this?' said Mr. Snodgrass, when the horse had
executed this manoeuvre for the twentieth time.

'I don't know,' replied Mr. Tupman; 'it looks very like shying, don't
it?' Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when he was interrupted by a
shout from Mr. Pickwick.

'Woo!' said that gentleman; 'I have dropped my whip.' 'Winkle,' said Mr.
Snodgrass, as the equestrian came trotting up on