A Yearns Coaching. 141 



countless scuttling rabbits, whicli adds greatly to tlie 

 pleasure of the ride. 



Then, carefully descending the steep pitch as we 

 approached the town of Hatfield, we had an oppor- 

 tunity of judging of the qualifications of our coachman, 

 who proved himself a master of the art of driving 

 four-in-hand by the skill with which he handled his 

 horses at this part of the journey, and without which 

 any one might easily come to grief. Quickly leaving 

 Hatfield behind us, we reach Digwell Hill, passing* 

 along a road belted on either side by luxuriant uncut 

 hedges — the home of the wild rose, the woodbine, and 

 the foxglove, which blossom unmolested, scattering 

 their perfumes to the winds. 



So, through such pleasant ways, we journey on 

 until Welwyn is reached. The principal product of 

 this quiet town would appear to be population, as, for 

 its acreage, which is limited, it can boast of more 

 children of tender years than any other town I have 

 ever met with. I presume that on this occasion the 

 inhabitants of riper years were busy in the harvest- 

 fields, and so had left the place in the possession of 

 the infantry. But this is trifling by the way, for 

 Hitchin is already in sight ; and, it being market- 

 day, a very numerous company is gathered together 

 to witness the Hirondelle draw up at the Swan Inn. 

 On ahghting, the passengers are ushered into the 

 ball-room, dinner being provided after the fashion of 

 the good old times, and the roast beef, pigeon pies, 

 ducks and green peas, calling vividly to mind the old 

 coaching days, when we were content to travel behind 

 four good horses, even if we were a little longer on 

 the road. 



