The Coachmaster 



in tremulous hope of a living touch with 

 what had long since died into history for 

 the outer world, I first questioned him 

 upon the subject. " Let me see, did you 

 say he was a physic- doctor ? " 



Perhaps I should here tell that my 

 Father could neither write nor read to his 

 dying day. 



'' I never had time for education," he 

 once said naively, looking with huge 

 admiration at a round-hand copy of my 

 own doing. " You see, little Peter and 

 Poll would never have tasted bacon if I 

 had." His wages as a little lad had 

 enabled his mother to oive the other 

 children a dish of this, the only meat they 

 ever saw, one day in every week, 



He spoke always with true liking and 

 respect of Mrs. Thrale. " She was a kind 

 lady," he said, "and a wonderful deter- 

 mined lady ; she used to get up even in 

 very cold weather by candlelight, aye, 

 and make the young ladies get up too, 

 and then all of them would run down to 

 the beach and take their dip in the sea 

 before dawn." 



On leaving Mrs. Thrale's service, he 

 was engaged as coach driver by Mr. Rudd, 

 part owner of a w^ell-known line of coaches 

 running between London and Brighton, 



