COACHING COMPETITION 89 



The very thing, thinks the old man and sits down to 

 dinner. 



When the Regulator arrives it is full inside, and the 

 old gentleman mounts to the roof, and off they go at a 

 steady pace, to the tune of "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace 

 bled" on the guard's key-bugle. All goes well till they 

 come to the "galloping ground," when the Regulator 

 takes exactly twenty-three minutes to do the five miles 

 and the coach, having a ton of luggage on the roof, rocks 

 and rolls like a ship at sea. 



The driver of the Comet, on his return coach, met the 

 Regulator and thus described the unhappy situation of 

 his late passenger. "He was seated with his back to the 

 horses — his arms extended to each extremity of the 

 guard-irons, his teeth set grim as death and his eyes cast 

 downwards to the ground, thinking the less he saw of his 

 danger the better." 



The lurching was awful and, when the Regulator 

 reached Hertford bridge, the old gentleman's nerves are 

 shattered, and he exclaims: "I will walk into Devon- 

 shire!" 



Feeling, however, that his legs could not accomplish 

 this pedestrian feat, he inquired what it would cost to 

 "post" to Exeter. Twenty pounds is the reply. Too 

 much thinks the old gentleman, and is persuaded to give 

 the Quicksilver Mail a trial on the assurance that it does 

 not carry any luggage. 



Now the Devonport Mail, commonly called the Quick- 

 silver, was one of the miracles of the road, is a mile an 

 hour faster than the Comet, and at least three miles 



