A CHAPTER OF ANECDOTES. 151 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



A CHAPTER OF ANECDOTES. 



A short time after the last war with France, an amateur 

 coachman was entering the town of Dover at night with 

 his team — all bang-up, and the lamps lit — when, not 

 taking quite room enough, in turning round a corner, he 

 touched the post with his off hind wheel, by which means 

 a little French count, who was on the box with him was 

 sent flying into the street. Falling on his snuff box, 

 which was in his side pocket, he stove In three of his ribs. 

 The amateur pulled up immediately, and seeing a sailor 

 close to his coach, he requested he would go and pick the 

 gentleman up, and see if he was hurt. Jack, who was 

 half sprung at the time, went in pursuit of him, and seeing 

 a bundle of capes and great coats lying in the road, cried 

 out, ' Why, here's no gem man here, here's nothing but 

 coats.' Upon which the count exclaimed, 'Oh, by gar, I 



brake three rib.' ' Oh ! d n your eyes,' says Jack, 



' you're a Frenchman, are you ? lie there and be d d.' 



Nimrod, in one of his essays, expresses a doubt 

 whether it is a coachmanlike practice to speak to your 

 horses from the box. This reminds me of a capital 

 story once told me by my dear friend, Jack Peyton 



