183 



CHAPTER XI. 



T^EW, if any, of my readers ■will remember 

 -*- the time when a turnpike-gate stood 

 between St. George's Hospital and Apsley 

 House, thougli many will not be unmindful 

 of those near the Marble Arch, Bayswater, 

 and Kensington, all of which were sad 

 nuisances to the inhabitants of the metro- 

 polis. 



There was, however, a wide distinction 

 between the official in London and its suburbs, 

 and the rural collector. The latter was 

 generally an uncouth, half-sleepy clod, who, 

 on a moderate calculation, detained you three 

 minutes in procuring the ticket and change, 

 finally placing six or eight pennyworth of 

 dirty coppers and a fresh written scrap of 

 paper in your palm, to the detriment of clean 



