COACHMEN 47 



The next night the coach halted at the accustomed 

 stopping-place, and the coachman and guard walked into 

 the stable, where as usual a cloth was laid on a corn-bin 

 which did duty as a table. The horse-keeper's wife 

 brought in a smoking hot dish to which they did ample 

 justice and finished to the last morsel. As the coachman 

 was mounting the box, the horse-keeper came up to him 

 and said: 



"Well, gentlemen, how did you enjoy your supper?" 



"Very much indeed," replied the coachman warmly, 

 "it was delicious." 



"Ah," said the horse-keeper complacently, "I always 

 told the missus the young mare would eat well." 



Words failed the coachman and guard; they turned 

 pale, their hands shook, and their eyes nearly started out 

 of their heads as the awful truth came home to them that 

 they had supped to repletion on horsesteak, and what 

 was worse they had enjoyed it! 



The old coachmen were necessarily men of strong 

 constitutions, for the work they were called upon to 

 perform was arduous, and called for great physical 

 endurance. The box-seat was a place of exquisite dis- 

 comfort, susceptible to every jolt and jar; the horses were 

 ill-bred, over worked, and badly put together, so that 

 it was no light undertaking to drive them, and coach- 

 men and teams were rarely changed, but went from one 

 end of the journey to another. That the coachmen 

 brought their coaches through in safety was in no 

 small measure due to the exercise of fanning, springing 

 and towelling; terms which being interpreted for the 



