10 THE COACH -HORN : 



During these trips it has been m}^ good fortune to 

 meet with some extraordinar}^ fellow-passengers, and 

 if I were free to narrate the various scenes I have 

 witnessed, this modest pamphlet would be increased 

 to a good sized volume. 



One incident which happened to me as a pedestrian 

 may, however, be told without divulging an}/- secrets 

 of the road. 



In the Autumn of 1875 I was spending my holidays 

 at the very quiet seaside village of Felixstow^e, near 

 Ipswich, where the Carabiniers were at that time 

 stationed. Strolling along the beach, watching the 

 shipping and the ever-restless waves, I heard a noise 

 not unlike the distant bellowing of a cow in the last 

 stages of pulmonary consumption or pleuro-pneumonia. 

 Slightly alarmed, I cast my eyes along the high road 

 which runs parallel to the shore, where I saw an 

 elegantly appointed Coach, with four horses and 

 grooms in liver\', pulled up by the roadside whilst 

 a gentleman on the box seat was endeavouring to 

 sound a Coach-horn, and so to assemble the passengers 

 who had alighted for luncheon. 



Having nothing whatever to do, I was seized with a 

 sudden ht of compassion for the gentleman who was 

 blowing the Horn — for he was getting black in the 

 face, and it was a smoking hot day. I took the liberty 

 to address him, saying that, if he would allow me to 

 make an attempt, 1 thought I might be able to produce 

 more musical sounds. With a "Ah, ah, thank you, 

 er," he politely handed me the Horn. First glancing 

 at the maker's name and Prize Medals whicli are con- 

 spicuoush' stamped on all genuine Coach-horns, I 



