142 THE COACHING ERA 



While Madam, with a smirking face, 



Declar'd it was o' middling pace, 



Tray, what think you, Sir?' — 'I agree,' 



Said simp'ring Syntax, 'with all three. 



Uphill, our course is rather slow, 



Down hill, now merrily we go! 



But when 'tis neither up nor down. 



It is a middling pace, I own.' 



*0 la!' cried Miss, 'the thought's so pretty!' 



'O yes!' growled Red-face, 'very witty!' 



The Lady said, 'If I can scan 



The temper of the gentleman, 



He's one of those, I have no doubt. 



Who love to let his temper out. 



Nor fails his thread-bare wit to play 



On all who come within his way: 



But we who — these stages roam, 



And leave our coach-and-four at home, 



Deserve our lot when thus we talk 



With those who were ordain'd to walk. 



And now, my niece, you see how wrong 



It is to use your flippant tongue. 



And chatter, as you're apt to do. 



With anyone — the Lord knows who.' 



Surly turn'd round, and friendly sleep 



Soon o'er his senses 'gan to creep! 



So Syntax thought he'd overlook 



The embryo of his future book: 



Thus all was silence till they came 



To the great town we London name." 



Dr. Kitchiner had a word to say anent companions 

 on a journey, counselling that such should not be chosen 

 lightly or with imperfect knowledge, for travelling was a 

 sure test of a man's character and idiosj^ncrasies. As a 



