Hunting in the Golden Days. 21 



Several carriages now arrive with other guests, 

 their advent causing quite a commotion. How well 

 the postillions love to hear, when hired, that their 

 destination is Buckskin Hall, for there they know they 

 can rest their weary jades whilst regaling themselves on 

 roast beef and ale to their hearts' content. 



What pleasant memories do the post-boys recall 

 in our minds. They were a breed distinctly of their 

 own who never grew old, presumably because they 

 were always called boys, and associated themselves as 

 such. The amount they drank and the weather they 

 encountered all tended to keep them hardy. Doubtless 

 had they not led this open-air life they would have been 

 boxed at a much earlier period, for many good men of 

 better constitutions who drank less have succumbed to 

 their potations owing, no doubt, to want of exercise. How 

 neat they looked, too, when dismounted, enveloped in 

 their smocks which were thrown over their gorgeous 

 liveries to keep them clean, for at any hour of the day 

 they were liable to be called at a moment's notice when 

 the yard-bell rang, and the summons of " next pair 

 out " was heard. I think it was Dickens who said 

 that you never see either a dead post-boy or a 

 donkey. 



As Goodbery enters the hall a burst of merry laughter 

 is heard, and a troop of young folks come swarming 

 over the marble floor. Mr. Goodbery is overwhelmed 

 with salutations, for it must be understood that he is a 

 great favourite with the young folks, and is looked 

 upon as an institution upon these occasions. As Sir 

 John Jarvis truly says, it would not be Christmas with- 

 out Goodbery. 



As the dinner-hour has nearly arrived our friend is 

 shown up to his room, where he removes his travel-stained 



3 



