CONCLUSION 373 



and call up recollections in our minds of the modern 

 Bristol Mail's motion as anything but fluent ; he may 

 glorify " the absolute perfection of all the appointments 

 about the carriage and the harness, their strength, their 

 brilliant cleanliness, their beautiful simplicity, the royal 

 magnificence of the horses ;" but here is another side to 

 the picture. I quote from Hone's Table-books, an 

 extract in the style of Jingle, and worthy of him. 



" STAGE COACH ADVENTURES. 



"Inside. — Crammed full of passengers — three fat fusty old men — a 

 young Mother and sick child — a cross old maid — a poll parrot — a bag of 

 red herrings — double-barrelled gun (which you are afraid is loaded) — and a 

 snarling lap dog in addition to yourself. Awake out of a sound nap with 

 the cramp in one leg and the other in a lady's bandbox — pay the damage 

 (four or five shillings) for gallantry's sake — getting out in the dark at the 

 half-way house, in the hurry stepping into the return coach and finding 

 yourself next morning at the very spot you had started from the evening 

 before — not a breath of air — asthmatic old woman and child with the 

 measles — window closed in consequence — unpleasant smell— shoes filled 

 with warm water — look up and find it's the child — obliged to bear it — no 

 appeal — shut your eyes and scold the dog — pretend sleep and pinch the 

 child — mistake— pinch the dog and get bit. — Execrate the child in return — 

 black looks — no gentleman — pay the Coachman and drop a piece of gold 

 in the straw — not to be found — fell through a crevice — Coachman says ' He'll 

 find it.' — Can't — get out yourself — gone — picked up by the Ostler — no time 

 for blowing up — Coach off for next stage — lose your money — get in — lose 

 your seat — stuck in the middle — get laughed at — lose your temper — turn 

 sulky — and turned over in a horse-pond." 



a 



Outside. — Your eye cut out by the lash of a clumsy Coachman's whip 

 -hat blown off into a pond by a sudden gust of wind — seated between two 

 apprehended murderers and a noted sheep-stealer in irons — who are being 

 conveyed to gaol —a drunken fellow half asleep falls off the Coach — and in 

 attempting to save himself drags you along with him into the mud — 

 musical guard, and driver horn mad — turned over. — One leg under a bale 

 of cotton — the other under the Coach — hands in breeches pockets— head in 

 hamper of wine — lots of broken bottles versus broken heads. Cut and run 

 — send for surgeon — wounds dressed — lotion and lint four dollars — take 

 post-chaise — get home — lay down — and laid up." 



So much for coach travelling from a pessimistic 

 point of view. And now a few words on the Coaching 

 Inns. 



" There is no private house," said Johnson — it was in 



