THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 125 



" He booked his passenger, I conclude," observed Frank 

 Baby. 



" Of course he did," resumed Hargrave ; " for Jem never 

 throws a chance away ; and I saw a good scene with him, 

 in that respect, last term. It being a very wet morning, 

 a passenger put his head out of one of the windows of the 

 'Angel Inn,' and said, 'Where is the coachman of the 

 Birmingham Day ? ' 



'" I be here, at your sarvice, sir,' answered Jem, who 

 was buckling his reins, at the moment, just ready to 

 mount his box and be off. 



" ' Put some straw on the foot-board, on my side of the 

 box,' resumed the gentleman. 



" ' Beg pardon, sir,' continued Jem ; ' but I never 

 allows no straw on my foot-board.' 



" ' You are an insolent scoundrel ! ' exclaimed the 

 gentleman. 



" ' This, sir, is not the first time I have been told so,' 

 resumed Jem ; ' but the fact is, I have a mare at wheel, 

 in this here coach, that, if one single straw touched her 

 tail, would kick you off the box in about two seconds ; 

 and here is my master, who will vouch for the truth of 

 what I have been saying.' " 



To attempt to detail the events of a race meeting, so 

 far back as the one to which I am now alluding, would 

 be considered a trespass on the reader ; suffice it to say, 

 that all went off with eclat, as far as the sport on the 

 course was concerned ; and as the champagne of the week 



road-coachmen. This woman knew Howell drove the Oxford and 

 Birmingham day coach six days in the week, as well as he himself 

 did ; so that the question was put merely for the sake of asking 

 it. as many others are. Howell's questions, on the other hand, 

 were always to the point ; and that put to his master, Mr. Costar, 

 relating to the coach he had so long been driving, is a fair sample : 

 " Do you think, sir, my coach would be missed on the road if it did 

 not start to-day ? " Mr. Costar agreed with Jem in thinking it 

 would not ; and it stopped. The fact was, the coaches running 

 throughout, from London to Birmingham, in a day took most of 

 its passengers. It is much to be lamented that there is no portrait 

 of this excellent servant, and true specimen of the old road-coach- 

 man, an order of men soon only to be known to have existed. He 

 died worth 10,000, and as one proof of the estimation in which 

 his character as a confidential and honest servant was held. Mr. 

 Ansley, of Bletchington Park, kept a horse in Oxford for his use 

 in the summer ; and a knife and fork were always at his service in 

 the steward's room at Bletchington, on Sundays, the year round. 



