112 



COACHING DAYS AND COACHING WAYS 



Mirabel now loses his head, and in spite of the assur- 

 ances of the passengers that all is right, thrusts it out 

 of the window to see where the deuce they are going to, 

 sees nothing but dust and whirling wheels, and loses 

 his wig. The unfeeling passengers remark, " I told you 

 so," according to invariable recipe. Mirabel cries, 

 " Stop, coachman ! ' The coachman hears him not. 

 In another second the broad wheels of a road waggon 

 have done the accursed thing ; and a short time after 



ra£sp«n 



*tf*". 





••:^ :; . " 



V 





: -- 





The White Hart at Hock. 



the Quicksilver mail thunders through Basingstoke, 

 which is forty-five miles one furlong from Hyde Park 

 Corner, and as uninteresting a town as can be seen in a 

 day's march. 



And at Basingstoke I shall leave Mirabel and the 

 Exeter mail, and go down the rest of the road in slower 

 and more historic company. 



Amongst the most distinguished of these must be 

 mentioned Cromwell, who was extremely busy on this 



