COACHMEN 59 



"Coachman," said a gentleman on the roof, "give 

 that poor fellow a lift." 



Bayzand willingly complied, and scarcely was the man 

 seated when one of the passenger lent him a coat, another 

 a shawl, and he was soon warm and comfortable. 



"And now tell us where you have come from," said 

 one. 



"India," replied the man. "Yesterday I got my 

 discharge from Portsmouth after being from England 

 more than twenty-five years. I went as substitute for a 

 Mr. John Bayzand of Aston-under-Hill." 



"Why, I am John Bayzand," exclaimed the coachman. 



All the travellers were much interested at the un- 

 expefted meeting between the two men, and a military 

 looking gentleman, who occupied the box-seat, took the 

 soldier's address and asked him many questions. 



The passengers clubbed together to give the poor man 

 a good dinner at Newbury, paid his fare to Oxford and 

 gave him a sovereign. John Bayzand took his substitute 

 home with him, provided him with a new suit of clothes 

 and some money. Shortly afterwards the soldier re- 

 ceived a letter from the War Office, and found he was 

 entitled to a good pension, which he owed to the repre- 

 sentation and kindness of the gentleman who occupied 

 the box-seat on the Oxonian. 



Many of the coachmen had nicknames bestowed 

 upon them for some peculiarity of habit or appearance; 

 John Barnshaw, who drove the Rising Sun, was "Civil 

 John" for his urbanity; James Witherington was 

 "Bloody Jimmy" for his severity with his horses; whilst 



