The Coachmaster 



a coach sped by : a beautiful thing to the 

 eyes of the Httle rustic, gay in yellow and 

 black, and laden with a freight of happy 

 souls, free as air and going whither they 

 would. With the vanishing of the coach 

 round the bend of the road, all dreams 

 and possibilities died out, and life seemed 

 dull and slow again as the plough he 

 followed. 



One clay his master, a churlish fellow at 

 all times, fell out with him about some 

 trifling matter in most unjust fashion and 

 dismissed him summarily from his service ; 

 whereupon he went home, kissed his 

 mother, scraped the clay from his boots, 

 and with a little bundle and a thick stick 

 tramped for London. Hardships by the 

 w^ay and hardships in the great City he 

 met in plenty, but he had been born and 

 reared in want and was not to be easily 

 disheartened. 



I know little more of those early years 

 in London than that his work lay always 

 in or about stables, for he loved horses and 

 was ever eager to fit himself for the posi- 

 tion of coachman. Hard work, poor pay, 

 a wretched lodging, and indifferent com- 

 pany — these were his lot ; but a certain 

 sturdy manhood in the Hampshire farm- 

 lad, and the spur of an honest ambition, 

 34 



