anguish. Mr. Tupman had saved the lives of
innumerable unoffending birds by receiving a portion of the charge in
his left arm.

To describe the confusion that ensued would be impossible. To tell
how Mr. Pickwick in the first transports of emotion called Mr. Winkle
'Wretch!' how Mr. Tupman lay prostrate on the ground; and how Mr. Winkle
knelt horror-stricken beside him; how Mr. Tupman called distractedly
upon some feminine Christian name, and then opened first one eye, and
then the other, and then fell back and shut them both--all this would be
as difficult to describe in detail, as it would be to depict the gradual
recovering of the unfortunate individual, the binding up of his arm
with pocket-handkerchiefs, and the conveying him back by slow degrees
supported by the arms of his anxious friends.

They drew near the house. The ladies were at the garden gate, waiting
for their arrival and their breakfast. The spinster aunt appeared; she
smiled, and beckoned them to walk quicker. 'Twas evident she knew not
of the disaster. Poor thing! there are times when ignorance is bliss
indeed.

They approached nearer.

'Why, what is the matter with the little old gentleman?' said Isabella
Wardle. The spinster aunt heeded not the remark; she thought it applied
to Mr. Pickwick. In her eyes Tracy Tupman was a youth; she viewed his
years through a diminishing glass.

'Don't be frightened,' called out the old host, fearful of alarming his
daughters. The little party had crowded so completely round Mr. Tupman,
that they could not yet clearly discern the nature of the accident.

'Don't be frightened,' said the host.

'What's the matter?' screamed the ladies.

'Mr. Tupman has met with a little accident; that's all.'

The spinster aunt uttered a piercing scream, burst into an hysteric
laugh, and fell backwards in the arms of her nieces.

'Throw some cold water over her,' said the old gentleman.

'No, no,' murmured the spinster aunt; 'I am better now. Bella, Emily--a
surgeon! Is he wounded?--Is he dead?--Is he--Ha, ha, ha!' Here
the spinster aunt burst into fit number two, of hysteric laughter
interspersed with screams.

'Calm yourself,' said Mr. Tupman, affected almost to tears by this
expression of sympathy with his sufferings. 'Dear, dear madam, calm
yourself.'

'It is his voice!' exclaimed the spinster aunt; and strong symptoms of
fit number three developed themselves forthwith.

'Do not agitate yourself, I entreat you, de