'Up you go,' said the stranger, assisting Mr Pickwick on to the coach with such an unexpected push that for a moment Mr Pickwick looked quite undignified as he tried not to fall over.
 
'Any luggage, Sir?' the coachman asked the stranger. 'Who - I? I have a brown paper parcel here, that's all - other luggage gone by water - in packing-cases, nailed up - big as houses - heavy, heavy, damned heavy,' replied the stranger.

He forced into his pocket as much as he could of the brown paper parcel, which looked as if it contained exactly one shirt and a handkerchief.
 
'Heads, heads - take care of your heads!' cried the loquacious stranger, as they came out under the low archway, which in those days formed the entrance to the coach-yard

'Terrible place - very dangerous - the other day - five children and their mother - tall lady, eating sandwiches - she forgot the arch – crash - children look round - mother's head off - sandwich in her hand - no mouth to put it in - head of a family off - shocking, shocking! Looking at Whitehall Sir? - fine place - little window - somebody else's head off there, eh, Sir? - he didn't keep a sharp look-out enough either - eh, Sir, eh?'
I am thinking,' said Mr Pickwick, 'about how easily people's lives can change.'