A WRETCHED END 153 



have ruled his actions to the end ; and the crowning act 

 of his old age, when about seventy, was, I am told, the 

 folly of eloping with one of his own female domestics to 

 France, from which country, I think, he never returned ; 

 and his name, and that of his hotel, were blotted from 

 the knowledge of the world, except with the few who, 

 like myself, remember him. 



I have referred to Mr. Farrance's reputation as a story- 

 teller. If I venture to reproduce one or two of the 

 anecdotes I call to mind, I do so, it must be remembered, 

 at second-hand, and can do but scant justice to their 

 merits. Such as they are, I give them. 



' It rained very hard,' said an eye-witness, ' when the 

 " Tally-Ho " coach pulled up at the inn of the last stage 

 for changing horses before reaching Exeter. Immediately 

 after starting, John Hex, the coachman, crept into the 

 front boot of the coach, and in this position drove the 

 horses through Kenn and Alphington, causing quite a 

 consternation amongst the inhabitants, who thought the 

 horses had run away without a coachman. Tommy 

 Waters, the guard, fancying something was unusual, 

 peeped over the top of the luggage on the roof, and seeing 

 the horses going at a pace faster than common, and no 

 driver, quietly got off behind, and in so doing broke his 

 leg. Just before entering the city, Hex stealthily 

 emerged from his concealment, and took his seat on the 

 box and drove up to the New London Inn in his usual 

 style. Shortly after, a lot of people came driving and 

 riding up to learn the fate of the coach and horses, which 

 they vowed had no driver as it passed through several 

 villages; whilst Hex for his part as stoutly asserted 

 that he had never left the coach, and had driven all 

 the way without a passenger, except two in the inside, 

 who were unaware of the act of the sportive coachman.' 



