"I've got my orders! Keep your seat, Horace!"

At Mud Springs, a village a few miles from Placerville, they met a large delegation of the citizens of Placerville who had come out to meet the celebrated editor and escort him into town. There was a military company, a brass band, and a six-horse wagon-load of beautiful damsels in milk-white dresses, representing all the States in the Union. It was nearly dark now, but the delegation was amply provided with torches, and bonfires blazed all along the road to Placerville.

The citizens met the coach in the outskirts of Mud Springs, and Mr. Monk reined in his foam-covered steeds.

"Is Mr. Greeley on board?" asked the chairman of the committee.

"He was, a few miles back!" said Mr. Monk. "Yes," he added, looking down through the hole which the fearful jolting had made in the coach roof. "Yes, I can see him! He is there!"

"Mr. Greeley," said the chairman of the committee, presenting himself at the window of the coach, "Mr. Greeley, sir! We are come to welcome you most cordially, sir! — Why, God bless me, sir, you are bleeding at the nose!"

"I've got my orders!" cried Mr. Monk. "My orders is as follows: 'Git him there by seving!' It wants a quarter to seving. Stand out of the way!"

"But, sir," exclaimed the committeeman, seizing the off leader by the reins, "Mr. Monk, we are come to escort him into town! Look at the procession, sir, and the brass band, and the people, and the young women, sir!"

"My orders say My orders say:

"I've got my orders!" screamed Mr. Monk. nothin' about brass bands and young women. 'Git him there by seving.' Let go the lines! Clear the way there! Whoo-ep! KEEP YOUR SEAT, HORACE!" and the coach. dashed wildly through the procession, upsetting a portion of the brass band, and violently grazing the wagon which contained the beautiful young women in white.

Years hence, gray-haired men who were little boys in this procession will tell their grandchildren how the stage tore through Mud Springs, and how Horace Greeley's bald head ever and anon showed itself like a wild apparition above the coach roof.

Mr. Monk was on time. There is a tradition that Mr. Greeley was very indignant for a while; then he laughed and finally presented Mr. Monk with a brand-new suit of clothes. Mr. Monk himself is still in the employ of the California Stage Company, and is rather fond of relating the story that has made him famous all over the Pacific coast. And he says he yields to no man in his admiration for Horace Greeley.

CLASS ACTIVITIES

1. Name the ways by which humor is brought out in this story. 2. How does Henry Monk resemble the driver in Dickens's narrative, p. 380? Find comparisons or contrasts between the coaches in the two stories.

3. What is the climax of this story? What shows the extreme democracy of manners in that early day?

4. Read the lines which show that Greeley gradually changed his haughty manner to a humble one.

5. What details of the hardship of early travel does this story add to the details named in the preceding selections?

6. Dramatic reading: Choose a good reader to read aloud the descriptive parts, and let the others read the conversation. Appoint readers who can imitate Monk and Greeley in the following lines:

a. Write this story in dialogue form.

b. Write a letter that Mr. Greeley might have written to the California Stage Company after his ride.

c. Write a conversation that might have taken place between Greeley and Monk ten years after the ride.

d. Write a paragraph or two telling how Monk helped Greeley out of the coach at the end of the ride.

5. MR. WINKLE'S RIDE

CHARLES DICKENS

Reading aim: Find the part which would cause the most laughter if thrown on the screen of a motion picture.

"Now, about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick. "How shall we go?"

"We had better consult the waiter, perhaps," said Mr. Tupman, and the waiter was summoned accordingly. fifteen miles, gentlemen

"Dingley Dell, gentlemen road-post-chaise, sir?"

cross

"Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said Mr. Pickwick. "True, sir beg your pardon, sir. Very nice four-wheeled chaise, sir seat for two behind - one in front for the gentleman that drives - oh! beg your pardon, sir, that'll only hold three."

"What's to be done?" said Mr. Snodgrass.

"Perhaps one of the gentlemen would like to ride, sir!" suggested the waiter, looking toward Mr. Winkle; "very good saddle horses, sir any of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester bring 'em back, sir."

"The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. "Winkle, will you go on horseback?"

Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings in the very lowest recesses of his own heart, relative to his equestrian skill; but, as he would not have them even suspected on any account, he at once replied with great hardihood,

"Certainly. I should enjoy it, of all things.”

Mr. Winkle had rushed upon his fate; there was no retreat. "Let them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. Pickwick. "Very well, sir,” replied the waiter.

The waiter retired; the breakfast concluded; and the travelers ascended to their respective bed-rooms, to prepare a change of clothing, to take with them on their approaching expedition.

Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrangements, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the passengers in the street, when the waiter entered and announced that the chaise

was ready an announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed by forthwith appearing before the coffee-room blinds.

It was a curious little green box on four wheels, with a low place for two behind and an elevated perch for one in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, displaying great symmetry of bone. A hostler stood near, holding by the bridle another immense horse apparently a near relative of the animal in the

chaise ready saddled for Mr. Winkle.

"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon the pavement while the coats were being put in. "Bless my soul! who's to drive? I never thought of that.” "Oh! you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. "Of course," said Mr. Snodgrass.

"I?" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

"Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hostler. "Warrant him quiet, sir; a hinfant in arms might drive him."

"He doesn't shy, does he?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Shy, sir? He would'nt shy if he was to meet a vagginload of monkeys with their tails burnt off.”

The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his perch, and deposited his feet on a floor clothed shelf, erected beneath it for that purpose.

"Now, shiny Villiam," said the hostler to the deputy hostler, "give the gen❜lm'n the ribbons." "Shiny Villiam" so called, probably, from his sleek hair and oily countenance — placed the reins in Mr. Pickwick's left hand, and the upper hostler thrust a whip into his right.

"Wo-o!" cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped showed a decided 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 impetuous animal, 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 all was 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 a most mysterious manner si le first, with his head toward one side of the way, and his tail toward 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, which displayed various peculiarities, highly interesting to a by-stander, 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, 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 maneuver for the twentieth time.

"I don't know," replied Mr. Tupman; "it looks very like shying, doesn'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 the tall horse, with his hat over his eyes, and shaking all over, as if he would shake to pieces, with the violence of the exer