i6o THE COACHING ERA 



read amid shouts of applause, and afterwards framed and 

 hung up in the club room. 



When party politics ran high and an ele£lion was 

 in progress, the coaches played an important part, and 

 people who were rash enough to travel down the road 

 on those occasions laid themselves open to distindl 

 dangers. 



Dickens throws a lurid light on the ta£l:ics employed, 

 and it is small wonder that the amiable and credulous 

 Mr. Pickwick felt agitated concerning the fate of the 

 luckless old gentleman who trusted his person on old 

 Mr. Weller's coach during a hotly contested election, 

 and whose tragic fate was thus narrated by the versatile 

 Sam Weller. 



'"Ledlion time came on, and he was engaged by 

 vun party to bring down woters from London. Night 

 afore he was a going to drive up, committee on t'other 

 side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the 

 messenger, who shows him in; — large room — lots of 

 gen'l'm'n — heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 

 'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, 

 *glad to see you, sir; how are you?' — 'Wery well, 

 thank'ee, sir,' says my father; 'I hope you're pretty 

 middlin',' says he. — 'Pretty well, thank'ee, sir,' says 

 the gen'l'm'n; 'sit down, Mr. Weller — pray sit down, 

 sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the 

 gen'l'm'n looks wery hard at each other. 'You don't 

 remember me?' says the gen'l'm'n. — 'Can't say I do,* 

 says my father. — 'Oh, I know you,' said the gen'l'm'n; 

 'know'd you when you was a boy,' says he. — 'Well, I 

 don't remember you,' says my father. — 'That's wery 

 odd,' says the gen'l'm'n. — 'Wery,' says my father. — 



