THE COACH AS NEWS-BEARER 157 



natural pace of ten miles an hour. In the broad light of 

 the summer evening, the sun, perhaps, only just at the 

 point of setting, we are seen from every storey of every 

 house. Heads of every age crowd to the windows — 

 young and old understand the language of our victorious 

 symbols — and rolling volleys of sympathizing cheers 

 run along us, behind us, and before us. The beggar, 

 rearing himself against the wall, forgets his lameness — 

 real or assumed — thinks not of his whining trade, but 

 stands ere6l, with bold, exulting smiles, as we pass him. 

 . . . Women and children, from garrets alike and cellars, 

 through infinite London, look down or look up with 

 loving eyes upon our gay ribbons and our martial 

 laurels; sometimes kiss their hands; sometimes hang 

 out, as signals of affeftion, pocket-handkerchiefs, aprons, 

 dusters, anything that, by catching the summer breezes, 

 will express an aerial jubilation. 



As the coach sped swiftly along the country roads the 

 excitement by no means decreased, for its gay decora- 

 tions gave aftual demonstration of joyful tidings. 

 Labourers at work in the fields paused to look, and 

 seeing the triumphant laurels shouted hurrah with all 

 the strength of their lusty lungs. Passengers felt an 

 ele6lric sense of kinsmanship with those men so strong 

 and reliant, whose sons and brothers had stood side by 

 side with theirs, as for the honour of Old England they 

 faced and vanquished the common foe. Ad:uated by 

 these feelings they stood up on the coach, waved their 

 hats and shouted out the name of the vidlory. Children 

 by the road-side yelled with joy as the coach passed by; 

 for them the viftory had a special significance, for they 

 felt it had hammered another nail in the coffin of the 



