ee THE COACHING ERA 



"Oh, he occasionally talks rather so-so," was the reply, 

 by which the book-keeper delicately implied that when 

 things went wrong with Ned his remarks were such that 

 no clergyman could listen to with propriety. 



"Oh, never mind that," said the parson, and went 

 headlong to his doom. 



For the first part of the journey the coachman and 

 box-seat passenger got on admirably. The talk fell on the 

 recent balloon ascents, of which neither approved, and 

 Ned gave his opinion thus: 



"There, sir, I call it downright wicked presumption in 

 the extreme, those balloons trying to solve more than 

 they ought." 



"I am of the same opinion," said the clergyman, 

 thinking that Ned was a much maligned charafter, for 

 his feelings, though forcible, were delicately and well 

 expressed. At that moment one of the horses stumbled 

 and nearly fell. The change in the coachman was in- 

 stantaneous, for he began to curse and swear in a frightful 

 manner. The clergyman during the whole of his blame- 

 less existence had never imagined such appalling nouns 

 and adjeftives as fell with ready fluency from Ned's lips. 

 He remained speechless, rightly judging that any inter- 

 ference would render him the recipient of language more 

 picturesque than polite, but he turned red, white, green, 

 and other colours indicative of strongly suppressed 

 emotions, and at the first opportunity hastened to ex- 

 change the lurid atmosphere of the box-seat for the 

 chaste seclusion of the inside. 



Many passengers delighted to draw out the coachman, 



