2 2 THE EXETER ROAD 



lates himself, but prematurely, for they are about to 

 enter upon Hartfo^'d Bridge Flats, which have the 

 reputation at this time of being the best five miles 

 for a coach in all England. The coachman now 

 ' springs ' his team and they break into a gallop 

 which does those five miles in twenty-three minutes. 

 Half-way across the Flats they meet the returning 

 coachman of the ' Comet,' who has a full view of his 

 quondam passenger — and this is what he saw. He 

 was seated with his back to the horses — his arms 

 extended to each extremity of the guard-irons — his 

 teeth set grim as death — his eyes cast down towards 

 the o;round, thinkino; the less he saw of his dano;er 

 the better. There was what was called a top-heavy 

 load, perhaps a ton of luggage on the roof, and the 

 horses were of unequal stride ; so that the lurches of 

 the ' Eegulator ' were awful. 



Strange to say, the coach arrives safely at Hartford 

 Bridge, but the antiquated passenger has had enough 

 of it, and exclaims that he will walk into Devonshire. 

 However, he thinks perhaps he will post down, and 

 asks the waiter, ' What do you charge per mile, 

 posting ? ' 



'One and sixpence, sir.' — 'Bless me! just double! 

 Let me see — two hundred miles at two shillings per 

 mile, postboys, turnpikes, etc., £20. This will never 

 do. Have you no coach that does not carry luggage 

 on the top ? ' — ' Oh yes, sir,' replies the waiter ; ' we 

 shall have one to-night that is not allowed to carry a 

 bandbox on the roof.' — ' That's the one for me ; pray, 

 what do you call it ? '— ' The " Quicksilver " Mail, sir ; 

 one of the best out of London.' — 'Guarded and 



