DOWN THE ROAD 125 



stones to the cheerful accompaniment of the guard's 

 horn. 



If the weather decided to smile on them, the outside 

 passengers saw the sun rise, iris-tinted, through the grey 

 dawn, watched the white mists roll away over the fields, 

 and heard the choir of birds salute the coming of another 

 day. If, on the contrary, the elements were adverse, 

 they saw and heeded none of these things, but rammed 

 their hats down over their ears, buried their noses in their 

 shawls, and thought yearningly of home and creature 

 comforts. 



As the end of the first stage drew near, the guard 

 sounded his horn with the twofold purpose of warning 

 the ostler to get the fresh team out, and the barmaid to 

 have ready those beverages which all travellers loved. 

 When they had drunk a glass of rum and milk, brandied 

 coffee, home-brewed ale, or whatever their fancy and 

 the state of the weather dictated, the passengers began 

 to take a more cheerful view of life. 



Dinner soon became the loadstar of their existence, 

 for the majority of passengers travelled from necessity 

 not choice. They cared little for scenery and less for 

 horses, and the only really enjoyable part of a coach drive 

 was the appetite it gave them for meals. At no other 

 time could they boast of such genuine hunger, but, alas, 

 at no other time were they constrained to dine so 

 hurriedly! Twenty minutes or half an hour, the time 

 appointed, was in the eyes of travellers hopelessly in- 

 adequate. In summer, when they rushed from the 

 coach into the dining-room, and fell to with all possible 



