Now it so happened that Mr. Pickwick and his three companions had resolved to make Rochester their first halting-place too; and having intimated to their newfound acquaintance that they were journeying to the same city, they agreed to occupy the seat at the back of the coach, where they could all sit together.

“Up with you,” said the stranger, assisting Mr. Pickwick on to the roof with so much precipitation as to impair the gravity of that gentleman’s deportment very materially.

“Any luggage, Sir?” inquired the coachman.

“Who⁠—I? Brown paper parcel here, that’s all⁠—other luggage gone by water⁠—packing-cases, nailed up⁠—big as houses⁠—heavy, heavy, damned heavy,” replied the stranger, as he forced into his pocket as much as he could of the brown paper parcel, which presented most suspicious indications of containing one shirt and a handkerchief.