THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 289 



plunge, working admirably throughout, with the privilege 

 of having the bar. 



" Well," said Jem ; "a prettier team than this no man 

 would wish to sit behind." 



" And well turned out, eh, Jein ? " said Webber. 



" And well handled, too," remarked Sir John. 



Jem nodded assent merely observing that he should 

 be a better judge of that when they got to the top of a 

 hill which was before them, nearly a mile long. 



" But," resumed Jem, " I was a-going to tell you about 

 that there Mr. Kington His Honour, as the coachmen 

 and guards all calls him on this road, and most others. 

 Do you know, he works almost as regular as we poor 

 servants do, keeping fourteen coach-horses in full employ. 

 He drives to his country town, fifteen miles from his 

 house, and back, four days in the week, and on some 

 other road the other two, but, like me, he lays rest on 

 a Sunday ; that is to say, he only puts to a pair, and 

 drives his family to church. They tells me there is not 

 a poor man in distress in liis parish, he is so kind to them 

 all ; and as to coachmen and guards, he has saved many 

 of their souls as well as their bodies." 



" What do you mean by saving their bodies ? " asked 

 Lord Edmonston. 



"Why, my Lord," replied Jem, "he saves 'em in two 

 ways. First, although all the coachmen and guards 

 which pass through his village have a glass of good ale, 

 at the public, chalked up to his Honour, he advises them 

 not to drink spirits, nor too much of anything. Then, 

 again, if any of them meet with an accident, or are sick, 

 or want a week's rest, his servants' hall and a good bed 

 are open to them, till such times as they recover. His 

 Honour would have made the best mail-coachman in 

 England, for he keeps such capital time, even with his 

 own coach. He won't wait a moment for nobody when 

 his time is up ; and do you know, my Lord, he once left 

 his lady behind, to come home in a post-chaise, because 

 she warn't to the time at the inn from which he starts. 

 That's what I call being punctual. Then he goes through 

 all the manoeuvres that we regular coachmen go through. 

 When he drives into the yard, he walks into the office, 

 hangs up his coat and whip, takes off his knee-caps and 

 shawl, and then (what we can't do) walks out like a 

 gentleman." 



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