THE LATER COACHMEiV 239 



cross-country journey was left open and un- 

 challenged for many years. John, in addition to 

 being a coachman, was host of the " King's Head," 

 a minor house in Bell Street, Wolverhampton, hut 

 was a taciturn and grumpy individual. He drove 

 only at the jog-trot of eight miles an hour, and 

 so had no excuse on that score for silence. He 

 cherished the greatest dislike to being questioned, 

 and his replies, especially to strangers, were of 

 the briefest and surliest. On the occasion of the 

 British Association visiting Dudley in 1849, a 

 gentleman residing at Worcester, being very 

 anxious to attend the meetings of so learned a 

 body, secured a box-seat on the " Everlasting " to 

 Dudley. John was the coachman on that occasion. 

 The historian of it is the passenger himself : — 



'"A nice mild day, coachman,' I said, as he 

 mounted and took the ribbons. 



" ' 'Tis, sir.' 



" (After a pause of five minutes.) ' What time 

 do you get to Dudley ? ' 



" ' Eight o'clock.' 



" (A quarter of an hour's pause.) ' Cajiital crop 

 of turnips this year, coachman.' 



"'Ees.' 



" (A pause of twenty minutes, varied only by 

 some long yawns from the coachman, and some 

 responsive ones from myself.) 



" ' I say, driver, can you tell me who's dead at 

 that house ? ' 



" ' Don't knoAV. 'Niver inquires about nothing 

 — yaw — haw— a-liaw,' yawning prodigiously. 



