GOING BY COACH: BOOKING OFFICES 323 



behind his ear, and his hands behind him, is 

 standing in front of the fire like a full-length 

 portrait of Napoleon ; the other, with his hat 

 half off his head, enters the passengers' names in 

 the books with a coolness AAliich is inexpressibly 

 provoking ; and the villain whistles — actually 

 whistles — while a man asks him what the fare is out- 

 side — all the way to Holyhead ! — in frosty weather 

 too ! They are clearly an isolated race, evidently 

 possessing no sympathies or feelings in common 

 with the rest of mankind. Your turn comes at 

 last, and, having paid the fare, you tremblingly 

 inquire — ' What time will it be necessary for me 

 to be here in the morning ? ' ' Six o'clock,' 

 replies the whistler, carelessly pitching the 

 sovereign you have just j)^i't6d with into a 

 wooden bowl on the desk. ' Rather before than 

 arter,' adds the man with the semi-roasted un- 

 mentionables, with just as much ease and com- 

 placency as if the whole world got out of bed 

 at five. You turn into the street, ruminating, as 

 you bend your stej^s homewards, on the extent 

 to which men become hardened in cruelty by 

 custom." 



The long-distance coaches — divided into the 

 " day " and " night " varieties — ^started very early 

 in the morning, or late in the afternoon, The 

 midday aspect of such yards as Sherman's " Bull 

 and Mouth," Chaplin's " Swan with Two Necks," 

 the " Belle Sauvage, the " Cross Keys," the 

 " Golden Cross," and others was one of repose, 

 but from unearthly hours in the forenoon until 



