THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 287 



capital sportsman and coachman, Peyton, in whose stables 

 you will see a good stud of both hunters and coach-horses, 

 all in right keeping. He knows that we are coming, so 

 that he will give us a good luncheon, a bowl of bishop 

 to wash it down with, and we shall pick up Jem Powell, 

 on the road, who will amuse us as we toddle along." 



" Who is Jem Powell ? " inquired Goodall. 



" I am surprised at the question," said Jack Webber ; 

 " I should just as soon have expected a man to ask who 

 is George III. Jem is one of the oldest and best coachmen 

 on the Holyhead road, and a very clever fellow to boot. 

 Indeed, he says of himself, that if he had had a college 

 education, his place would have been before the bars, and 

 not behind them, by which he means a first-class degree." 



" No doubt he would," observed our hero ; " for I never 

 heard him express himself but with point, on any one 

 occasion ; and there is a dry humour in his remarks that 

 gives them additional weight." 



As the clock struck eleven, our party commenced their 

 drive, Jack Webber on the box with his host ; Sir John 

 behind him on the roof ; and the rest where their fancy 

 placed them ; and this being the first time of Sir John see- 

 ing his pupil at work on his own coach, he was not a little 

 interested by the event. All went well, however. Frank 

 Eaby gave proof that he had not lost sight of the instruc- 

 tions he had received from Jack Bailey, when at Eton, 

 nor from himself during the vacations ; and he was at 

 once pronounced, both by the Baronet and Jack Webber, 

 as only requiring one more year's experience, to make 

 him a first-rate coachman. His hand on his horses was 

 light ; his temper was not to be ruffled, although it was 

 occasionally put to the test, by a wheeler not working to 

 please him ; he descended rather a steep hill without 

 having recourse to the skid, and yet with very little 

 pressure on the wheelers, and he showed himself a judge 

 of pace, by keeping his time to half a minute, having 

 allowed himself an hour and ten minutes to do the twelve 

 miles. 



At the change the well-known " Barley Mow " stood 

 the equally well-known Jem Powell, looking over the 

 fresh team, which were standing in readiness at the door, 

 and he thus saluted the party when they pulled up : 



" Good morning to ye, gentlemen ; I hope I sees you 

 all well. You have a fine morning for your drive ; I 



