nOlVN THE ROAD IN DAYS OF YORE 79 



At last a shuffling and fumbling are heard 

 within, and the door is opened. The pikeman 

 has not heen to bed after all; he was, and is, 

 only drunk, and had fallen into a sottish sleep. 

 He now opens the gate, in the midst of much 

 disinterested advice from both our officials — the 

 guard advising him to stick to Old Tom and leave 

 brandy alone, and the coachman pointing out 

 that the Mail Avill be down presently and that 

 he had better leave the gate ojien if he does 

 not wish to present the Postmaster-General with 

 forty shillings, that being the penalty to which 

 a 2)ike-keeper is liable who does not leave a clear 

 passage for His Majesty's Mails. 



We now cross Wansford Bridge, a very long 

 and narrow stone structure over the river Nene. 

 Having done so, slowly and with caution, 

 we know no more : sleep descends insensibly 

 upon us. 



. . . Immeasurable a?ons of time pass by. 

 We are floating with rhythmic wings in the 

 pure ether of some unterrestrial paradise. Our 

 gross earthly integument (tAvelve stone and a 

 few extra pounds avoirdujiois of flesh and blood 

 and bone) has fallen away. We want nothing to 

 eat, for ever and ever, and have left everything 

 gross and unspiritual far, far below us, and .... 

 a fearful crash ! Convulsively, instinctively, our 

 arms are thrown out, and Ave awake, tenaciously 

 grasping one another. What is this that has 

 brought us down to earth again and made us 

 uuAvillingly assume once more that corporeal 



