240 STAGE-COACH AND MAIL IN DAYS OF YORE 



" Here a jiassenger pointed out to ' coachey ' 

 a covey of partridges in an adjoining field, and 

 asked liim if he knew the 2)rice of l)irds at 

 Worcester. 



" ' No,' says he, ' I don't — yaw-he-haw ; hut 

 fresh herrings at Wolverhampton he mighty cheap 

 at thirty a shilling.' 



"Another quarter of an hour's profound silence, 

 and we arrived at the 'Crown,' Omhersley. 

 Seeing the fate that awaited me, of heing linked 

 to this dreary fellow for a journey of nearly thirty 

 miles, I proposed to him a gentle stimulant, and 

 expressed my apprehension that he was consider- 

 ably out of condition. 



"'Well, then, I'll ha' some brandy, I s'pose,' 

 he replied, with as much politeness and satisfaction 

 at this sixj)enny treat as a porker may he supposed 

 to entertain on his first introduction to a bucket 

 of grains. Too soon, however, I found this invest- 

 ment of ray capital was more than useless — the 

 man with the Avhip would not be drawn out. His 

 horses, too, seemed to be under the influence of the 

 same stupifjdng medium, jogging along at a rate 

 which rendered our arrival at Dudley a jirobability 

 somcAvhat remote . ' ' 



John, oddly enough, was succeeded l)y another 

 Wilson, but not a relative. William Wilson was 

 the direct antithesis to his predecessor, and when 

 the "Everlasting," belying its proud name, went 

 oft' the road before the advance of the Great 

 Western Hail way from Oxford to Worcester, he 

 left pleasing memories. 



