THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 73 



" between you and me, I means to swallow that gentleman 

 to-night." ' 



" Swallow him ! what the deuce do you mean 1 " 



" Why, Master Francis, I don't mind telling you, because 

 all the servants at the Abbey says that you are not one 

 of the wide-in-the-mouth sort, no tale-teller. We poor 

 coachmen, you know, sir, must live; that is to say, we 

 must make tongue and buckle meet at the end of the year, 

 or we gets into trouble. Xow, this can't be done for only 

 ten shillings a week on such a dull road as this, besides 

 what we kicks the passengers for, without a bit of shoulder- 

 ing. This gentleman is what we call a shoulder-stick, 

 and, instead of his fare going to the proprietors of the 

 coach, it finds its way into my short pocket." 



" And do you never get found out 1 " 



"Sometimes. I lost one good sarvice, owing to 

 shouldering a sodger. Made a vow, Master Francis, never 

 to shoulder another sodger, for a proprietor can see him a 

 mile off. Xo more cocked hats and feathers, said I, for 

 me, except they are on the bill, and then they ain't worth 

 having." 



Just at this moment the "Balloon" coach, down, 

 appeared in sight ; and, on both coaches being pulled up 

 alongside each other, the following somewhat symbolical 

 sentences were interchanged. 



" How do, Joe ? " 



"How do, William?" 



" Anything said ? " 



" Xo ; but I thinks the young one's fly." 



" Good day, Joe ; there's three in and two out, booked 

 for you to-morrow." 



But we must here close this portion of our history. 

 Let it suffice to say, that Frank got another lesson from 

 Wilkins, with some hints which he never forgot : but on 

 the approach of night, resumed his inside place, and, in 

 due time, found himself safe in London, under the roof 

 of his uncle, who was delighted at the thoughts of his 

 nephew making such a promising start in the world, with 

 the assurance that, in after-life, he would have the means 

 of supporting both the rank and character of a gentleman. 



It was three years since the young Rabys had been in 

 London, a period at that early age well-nigh long enough 

 to obliterate all recollection of what it had appeared to 

 be. Three days, however, having been allowed them to 



