DOWN THE ROAD IN DAYS OF YORE 83 



blanched and debauclied-looking to onr fancy — 

 proclaim the hour to be 5.30 a.m. The change 

 is waiting for us in front of the " Saracen's Head," 

 and so is our new coachman. The old one leaves 

 us, but before doing so " kicks us " — as the ex- 

 pressive phraseology of the road has it — for the 

 usual fees. He has been, so far as Ave remember 

 him, a dour, silent, unsociable man, but we think 

 that, perhaps, as we have been asleep during 

 the best part of his reign on the box-seat, any 

 qualities he may possess have not had their due 

 opportunity, and so he gets two shillings from 

 ourselves. A passenger behind us gives him a 

 sliilling, which he promptly spits on and turns, 

 " for luck " as he says, and " in 'opes it'll grow." 

 The passenger who gave it him says, thereupon — 

 in a broad Scots accent— that he is " an impudent 

 fellow, and desairves to get nothing at all ; " to 

 which the jarvey rejoins that he has in his time 

 brought many a Scotchman from Scotland, but, 

 " this is the fust time, blow me, that ^ever I see 

 one agoin' back ! "— Avhich is a very dark and 

 mysterious saying. What did he mean ? 



Our new coachman is a complete change from 

 our late Jehu. He is a spruce, cheerful fellow, 

 neat and Avell brushed, youthful and prepossessing. 

 "Good morning, gentlemen," he says cheerily: 

 " another fine day." We had not noticed it. All 

 we had observed Avas of each other, and that as 

 every other looked pale, Avearied and heavy-eyed, 

 so Ave rightly judged must be our oAvn condition. 



" Chk ! " says our youthful charioteer to his 



