86 STAGE-COACH AND MAIL IN DAYS OF YORE 



"White Hart," where we drop a jmssenger for 

 the Gainsborough coach and another for Chester- 

 fiekl, and take up another for York, is a busy 

 scene. Ap2)etising aromas of early breakfasts being 

 prepared put a keener edge upon our already 

 sharjiened appetites, and we all devoutly wish we 

 were at Doncaster, where our breakfast awaits the 

 coming of the coach. Across Barnby Moor, past 

 the great " Bell " inn, we take our way, and come 

 to one more change, at the "Crown," Bawtry; 

 then hie away for Doncaster, which we reach, 

 past Rossington Bridge and the famous St. Leger 

 course, at half -past nine o'clock. 



" Twenty minutes for breakfast, gentlemen," 

 announces the coachman as we pull up in front of 

 the " New Angel " inn ; while the guard, who has 

 come with us all the way from London, now 

 announces that he goes no farther. We give him 

 half a crown, and hasten, as well as stiffened limbs 

 allow, down the ladder placed for us outsides to 

 alight by, to the breakfast-room. 



We catch a glimpse of ourselves in a mirror 

 as we enter. Heavens ! is it possible an all-night 

 journey can make so great a difference in a man's 

 personal appearance ? Wliile here is a lady who 

 has been an inside passenger all the way from 

 town, and yet looks as fresh and blooming as 

 though she had but just dressed for a walk. How 

 do they manage it, those delicate creatures ? 



Our friend, who says he is starving, refuses 

 to discuss this question. He remarks, with eye 

 wildly roving o'er the well-laden table-cloth, 



