"MANCHESTER COBOURG " 



a general rule that man must be discontented with his 

 lot. I was not an exception to it. My dissatisfaction 

 was afterwards heightened by an incident by no means 

 peculiar to men of my age in any position desirous of 

 partaking of the real felicities of life. 



Nevertheless, I continued to toil on in my vocation, in 

 the exercise of which I fancied I must have improved in 

 my knowledge in the art of driving by the experience I 

 was gaining. I continued it, too, without any accident, 

 and consequently acquired the confidence of the pro- 

 23rietors and the public. Indeed, I considered myself very 

 fortunate, for accidents were not very infrequent ; and it 

 fell to my lot to witness two — one of the " Manchester 

 Cobourg," the other of the " Liverpool Umpire." 



I met the former coach, on my journey up, between 

 Redbourn and St. Albans. The coachman, Foster, kept 

 on the wrong side of the road to avoid the gravel, which 

 was so heaped on as to raise the middle of the road to an 

 unnecessary height. The coach (Manchester-built, and 

 very inferior to those turned out from the factories at 

 Clerkenwell or Little Queen Street) was heavily laden on 

 the top with luggage as Avell as passengers ; so much so 

 as to raise the centre of gravity above its proper position ; 

 and, although I kept on my wrong side that Foster might 

 not have to cross, he, unaware of my intention, endeav- 

 oured to do so, when the superincumbent weight, resting 

 upon a very slight base, swayed the coach over on the 

 off-side, and it fell with a loud noise, that reminded me 

 of my own overturn in the Bere Forest. 



It was early in the evening, and moonlight. We all 

 jumped down to assist. Fortunately, no one was hurt, 



