THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



' I have many kind friends, indeed,' replied Jem ; ' only 

 think of Squire Amste}^ keeping a horse for me at Oxford, all 

 the summer months, on purpose for me to ride out after I come 

 in with my coach ; and I have a good dinner at his house every 

 Sunday in the year, if I like to go for it.' 



' Then you don't drive on Sundays ? ' observed Goodall. 



' No,' replied Jem ; * I would not work on a Sunday for 

 any man ; it's like leading the life of a nigger. I generally 

 o-oes to church in the morning, and to the Squire's in the 

 evening.' 



' No alehouse work,' observed Lord Edmonston. 



' I smokes one pipe, and drinks a pint of ale, every evening 

 at the " Black Dog," after I have had my dinner. I am no 

 drinker, nor would I advise any coachman to be such, particu- 

 larl}^ one that drives over such cold ground as I do. All I 

 have on the road is half a pint of ale, with my lunch, where I 

 meets my coach, and then I enjoy my dinner when I gets in. 

 Indeed, I often say to myself, when returning over those cold 

 ]nll(5 : — " Oh, how I could set-to now, at a good rump-steak and 

 onions ! " ' 



' I have always thought,' observed Lord Edmonston, ' that 

 road coachmen must obtain a great knowledge of mankind from 

 their every-day communication with persons of all descriptions, 

 and nearly from all countries.' 



' Why, my Lord,' said Jem, ' we meets with all sorts — good, 

 bad, and indifferent — and especially on this road. We carries 

 a great many Irish.' 



' And how do you find them ? ' asked Jack Webber. 



' There are many good ones amongst them, but still more 

 good for nothing,' was the answer ; ' but, saving your presence, 

 gentlemen, they are all devils to brag. I never carried 

 one, calling himself a f/entleman, that had less than £1500 

 a year.' 



' And a park ? ' said Raby. 



' A park, of course,' resumed Jem ; ' and many on them 

 talk of their castles — in the air, I suppose. But I could not 

 help thinking that they must often get pulled up, when talking 

 so big. Indeed, I pulled up one of them m3^self, last summer. 

 He asked me who lived at Warton House, on our road. I told 

 him the Earl of Connell — my kind friend, as you have heard 

 me speak of, Mr. Raby. " By the powers ! " said he, " but I 



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