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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, Complete"


By-and-by, a murmur from the distance, which succeeded a restless motion
among the crowd (like a leafy agitation of trees coming as a kind of
_courier en avant_ to announce the regular hurricane), broke gradually,
and at last uproariously upon us; straining our necks and eyes in the
attractive direction. Uncle grasped me by the arm, and though he spoke not
a word, he fairly stared, "Here it comes." Now the thick tide of the
moving portion of the spectators began to sweep past us, as they hedged in
the soldiery and carriages; then came the shouting, accompanied by various
kinds of squeezing, tearing, and stumbling; some screaming compliments to
her Majesty, and in the same breath dispensing more violent compliments in
an opposite direction, and of a decidedly different tendency. Shoes were
trodden off, and bonnets crushed out of all fashion; coats were curtailed;
samples of their quality were either seen dangling at the heels of the
wearer, or were ignominiously trodden under foot; and many superfine
Saxony trousers were double-milled without mercy.
Whilst we were pluming ourselves upon the snugness of our situations, and
the attendant good fortune of being easy partners in the business of the
day, and thus freed from the vexations and perplexities so largely
distributed in our view, I was hindered from communicating my happiness
upon these points, for at this moment down went my uncle Cheeseman, and as
suddenly up flew his arms above his head, like Boatswain Smith at the
height of exhortation on Tower Hill.


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