The Sport of Our Jincestors 



you any slow coach down this road to-day ? ' * Why, yes, 

 sir,' repHes John ; ' we shall have the Regulator down in an 

 hour.' ' Just right,' said our friend ; ' it will enable me to 

 break my fast, which I have not done to-day.' ' Oh, sir,' 

 observes John, ' these here fast drags be the ruin of us. 

 'Tis all hurry scurry, and no gentleman has time to have 

 nothing on the road. What will you take, sir ? Mutton- 

 chops, veal-cutlets, beef-steaks, or a fowl (to kill) ? ' 



At the appointed time the Regulator appears at the door. 

 It is a strong, well-built drag, painted what is called chocolate 

 colour, bedaubed all over with gilt letters — a bull's head on 

 the doors, a Saracen's head on the hind boot, and drawn by 

 four strapping horses ; but it wants the neatness of the 

 other. The passengers may be, by a shade or two, of a 

 lower order than those who had gone forward by the Comet ; 

 nor, perhaps, is the coachman quite so refined as the one 

 we have just taken leave of. He has not the neat white hat, 

 the clean doeskin gloves, the well-cut trousers, the dapper 

 frock ; but still his appearance is respectable, and perhaps, 

 in the eyes of many, more in character with his calling. 

 Neither has he the agility of the artist on the Comet, for he 

 is nearly double his size ; but he is a strong, powerful man, 

 and might be called a pattern-card of the heavy coachmen 

 of the present day — in other words, of a man who drives a 

 coach which carries sixteen passengers instead of fourteen, 

 and is rated at eight miles in the hour instead of ten. ' What 

 room in the Regulator } ' says our friend to the waiter, as 

 he comes to announce its arrival. ' Full inside, sir, and in 

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