The Sport of Our <^ncestors 



years back. ' I wish to go home to Exeter,' replies the old 

 gentleman, mildly. ' Just in time, your honour, here she 

 comes — them there grey horses ; where 's your luggage ? ' 

 * Don't be in a hurry,' observes the stranger : ' that 's a 

 gentleman's carriage ! ' 'It ain't ! I tell you,' says the cad ; 

 ' it 's the Comet, and you must be as quick as lightning.' 

 Nolens volens, the remonstrating old gentleman is shoved 

 into the Comet by a cad at each elbow, having been three 

 times assured his luggage is in the hind boot, and twice 

 three times denied having ocular demonstration of the fact. 



However, he is now seated ; and ' What gentleman is 

 going to drive us ? ' is his first question to his fellow-pas- 

 sengers. ' He is no gentleman, sir,' says a person who sits 

 opposite to him, and who happens to be a proprietor of the 

 coach. ' He has been on the Comet ever since she started, 

 and is a very steady young man.' ' Pardon my ignorance,' 

 replies the regenerated ; ' from the cleanliness of his person, 

 the neatness of his apparel, and the language he made use 

 of, I mistook him for some enthusiastic bachelor of arts, 

 wishing to become a charioteer after the manner of the 

 illustrious ancients.' ' You must have been long in foreign 

 parts, sir,' observes the proprietor. In five minutes, or less, 

 after this parley commenced the wheels went round, and in 

 another five the coach arrived at Hyde Park gate ; but long 

 before it got there, the worthy gentleman of 1742 (set down 

 by his fellow-travellers for either a little cracked, or an 

 emigrant from the backwoods of America), exclaimed, 

 ' What ! off the stones already ? ' ' You have never been on 

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