GOING BY COACH: BOOKING OFFICES 331 



the morning papers have arrived, and you are 

 assailed on all sides with shouts of ' Times, 

 gen'l'ni'n, T'Dues,' 'Here's Clirot — Chron — Cl/roii,'' 

 ' Herald, ma'am,' ' Highly interesting murder, 

 gen'l'm'n,' ' Curious case o' breach o' promise, 

 ladies.' The inside passengers are already in their 

 dens, and the outsides, with the exception of your- 

 self, are pacing up and down the pavement to keep 

 themselves warm ; they consist of two young men 

 with very long hair, to which the sleet has com- 

 municated the apjiearance of crystallised rats' 

 tails ; one thin young woman, cold and peevish, 

 one old gentleman ditto ditto, and something in a 

 cloak and cap, intended to represent a military 

 officer; every member of the party with a large 

 stiff shawl over his chin, looking exactly as if he 

 were playing a set of Pan's pipes. 



" ' Take off the cloths, Bob,' says the coachman, 

 who now appears for the first time, in a rough 

 blue greatcoat, of Avhich the buttons behind are so 

 far apart that you can't see them both at the same 

 time. ' Now, gen'l'm'n ! ' cries the guard, with 

 the waybill in his hand. ' Eive minutes behind 

 time already ! ' Up jump the passengers — the 

 two young men smoking like limekilns, and 

 the old gentleman grumbling audibly. The thin 

 young woman is got upon the roof by dint of a 

 great deal of pulling and pushing, and helping 

 and trouble ; and she repays it by expressing her 

 solemn conviction that she will never be able to 

 get down again. 



*' ' All right ! ' sings out the guard at last, 



