The streets were thronged
with working people. The hum of labour resounded from every
house; lights gleamed from the long casement windows in the
attic storeys, and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery
shook the trembling walls. The fires, whose lurid, sullen light had
been visible for miles, blazed fiercely up, in the great works and
factories of the town. The din of hammers, the rushing of steam,
and the dead heavy clanking of engines, was the harsh music
which arose from every quarter.
The postboy was driving briskly through the open streets, and
past the handsome and well-lighted shops that intervene between
the outskirts of the town and the Old Royal Hotel, before Mr.
Pickwick had begun to consider the very difficult and delicate
nature of the commission which had carried him thither.
The delicate nature of this commission, and the difficulty of
executing it in a satisfactory manner, were by no means lessened
by the voluntary companionship of Mr. Bob Sawyer. Truth to
tell, Mr. Pickwick felt that his presence on the occasion, however
considerate and gratifying, was by no means an honour he
would willingly have sought; in fact, he would cheerfully have
given a reasonable sum of money to have had Mr.
Pages:
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267