THE ROAD. 
London ! wonderful travelling, gentlemen, to be sure ! 
but much too fast to be safe. However, thank Heaven, 
we are arrived at a good-looking house ; and now, 
waiter ! I hope you have got breakf " Before the 
fast syllable, however, of the word could be pronounced, 
the worthy old gentleman's head struck the back of the 
coach by a jerk, which he could not account for, (the 
fact was, three of the four fresh horses were bolters,) 
and the waiter, the inn, and indeed Hounslow itself 
( " terrceque urbesque recedunt" ), disappeared in the twink- 
ling of an eye. Never did such a succession of doors, 
windows, and window-shutters pass so quickly in his 
review before and he hoped they might never do 
so again. Recovering, however, a little from his sur- 
prise " My dear sir," said he, " you told me we were 
to change horses at Hounslow ? Surely, they are not 
so inhuman as to drive these poor animals another stage 
at this unmerciful rate ? " " Change horses, sir ! " says 
the proprietor ; " why we changed them whilst you 
were putting on your spectacles, and looking at your 
watch. Only one minute allowed for it at Hounslow, 
and it is often done in fifty seconds by those nimble- 
fingered horse-keepers." "You astonish me! but 
really I do not like to go so fast." " Oh, sir! we 
always spring them over these six miles. It is what 
we call the hospital ground." This alarming phrase is 
presently interpreted : it intimates that horses whose 
"backs are getting down instead of up in their work" 
some " that won't hold an ounce down hill, or draw an 
