THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



minute, he had kept his time. " It's a wonder I did, Sir John," 

 said Jack, " for the roads be in a queerisli state, after that 'ere 

 thunder-storm yesterday ; and there is at least half a ton of 

 Birmino-ham shillino;s in the front boot." All the better for the 

 way-bill, said I ; and as for tlie bad shillings, as Jack observed, 

 that's nothing to nobody ; all trades must live, and we are all 

 honest men till we are found out.' 



At this moment the door opened, and in walked Frank 

 Raby. 



Sir John. — ' Frank ! my boy, how are you ?— glad to see 

 you once more ; let me introduce you to Mr. Webber, an old 

 Etonian and Christchurch man ; like ourselves, devilish fond 

 of the road, a right good coachman, but not much of a fox- 

 hunter.' 



Wehher. — ' Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Raby. 

 Inkleton tells me you are one of us ; fond of the ribbons, eh ? 

 Bailey says you were one of his best pupils when at Eton, and 

 Jack Hale says there are few better out of Oxford— gownsmen, 

 of course.' 



Frank. — ' I am very fond of driving four horses, but do not 

 pretend to call myself a coachman. If I make one in jive 

 years from this time, I shall think myself very fortunate.' 



Webber. — ' It cost me ten, and as many hundreds of pounds 

 as well. My bill, with old Mother Jones, at Oxford, for box- 

 coats for guards and coachmen, was never under a hundred per 

 annum, for many years; and I am afraid to say what it has 

 cost me in four-horse whips, also given away. Then my score 

 at public-houses, on different roads, was something approach- 

 in o- fifty pounds a year for what coachmen and guards call 

 their " allowance." For example, that at the " Magpies," on 

 Hounslow Heath, for rum-and-milk to the mail coaches, up 

 and down, was no joke — generally exceeding twenty pounds. 

 No house on the road makes such capital rum-and-milk as the 

 " Magpies " does ; the coachmen call it " milking the bull." But 

 I don't regret the money I spent in this way, for many reasons. 

 It gave me an insiglit into all sorts of life ; it made me a 

 coachman, which nothing but road-work will do; it gave me 

 an opportunity of doing many a Ivind act towards persons who 

 were not so fortunately cast in life as myself ; and last, tliough 

 not least — for I never encouraged what I considered a worthless 

 fellow, or a blackguard — I have reason to believe I have con- 



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