The Coachmaster 



of the masses, and hurries away with all 

 that he has of purse and pity to the help of 

 the individual sorrow. And so it seems 

 to me, that if more among us had tramped 

 on foot to our better fortunes, we should 

 seldomer pass a wayfarer in our well-horsed 

 respectability, but should pull up and give 

 him a lift on his road and a kind "God 

 speed " at parting. 



It was not often that my Father's coach 

 carried an unwelcome passenger, for he had 

 a big undiscriminating heart that deemed 

 the vast majority of people kind and plea- 

 sant, because, in truth, he was himself kind 

 and pleasant to everybody. But one day, 

 just before the coach should start, my 

 Father came down the office steps in a 

 great state and with a very red face. 



" Look there, boy," he said, gripping my 

 arm, as I stood at the head of the off leader, 

 and he pointed, or rather shook his fist, 

 at a gentleman on the box-seat. " Look at 

 that old fellow up there on the box-seat," 

 he cried, with an angry tremor in his 

 voice; "he will come, and / don't want 

 him, and he knows I don't want him, too ! 

 I'd as soon have the devil sitting 'long side 

 of me as him ! " And he climbed to the 

 box with indignation and disgust writ large 

 on his whole person and bearing. I ran 

 62 



