224 THE COACHING ERA 



"I did not prevail; my dear boy, the man was a brute. 

 I offered him all the silver in my pocket. I had set my 

 heart upon the thing, my dear Charles Matthews. I 

 couldn't have eaten anything else, my dear boy, so what 

 do you think I did? Don't be angry, Charles, don't be 

 angry; a man like yourself can have no idea what I feel, 

 who want little delicacies to keep up my stamina. My 

 dear Charles, the man was unfeeling, nothing could 

 move him; I waited till he left the door and then I went 

 into the larder and took the pork, and left double the 

 value in its place!" 



Mrs. Carlyle, in a letter to a friend, describes her 

 coaching experiences in September 1836. 



"I got into the mail the other night with as much 

 repugnance and trepidation as if it had been a Phalaris' 

 brazen bull, instead of a Christian vehicle, invented for 

 purposes of mercy — not of cruelty. There were three 

 besides myself when we started, but two dropped off 

 at the end of the first stage, and the rest of the way 

 I had as usual half the coach to myself. My fellow 

 passenger had that highest of terrestrial qualities, 

 which for me a fellow passenger can possess — he was 

 silent. I think his name was Roscoe, and he read sundry 

 long papers to himself, with the pondering air of a 

 lawyer. 



"We breakfasted at Lichfield at five in the morning, 

 on muddy coffee and scorched toast, which made me 

 once more lyrically recognize in my heart (not without 

 a sigh of regret) the very different coffee and toast with 

 which you helped me out of my headache. At two 

 there was another stop for ten minutes, that might be 

 employed in lunching or otherwise. Feeling myself 



