e if there was no driving there
was no pay), yet he did not care whether the carriage was clean or
dirty, if the horses looked well or ill, if the harness was whole,
or the horses were shod. The certainty that the gains of to-morrow
would make up for the extravagance of to-day, made him quite
thoughtless and happy; for he was young, active, and healthy, and
never foresaw that a rainy day might come, when he would want what
he now squandered.

One day, being a little flustered with liquor as he was driving his
return chaise through Brentford, he saw just before him another
empty carriage, driven by one of his acquaintance; he whipped up his
horses, resolving to outstrip the other, and swearing dreadfully
that he would be at the Red Lion first--for a pint--"Done!" cried
the other, "a wager." Both cut and spurred the poor beasts with the
usual fury, as if their credit had been really at stake, or their
lives had depended on that foolish contest. Tom's chaise had now got
up to that of his rival, and they drove along side of each other
with great fury and many imprecations. But in a narrow part Tom's
chaise being in the middle, with his antagonist on one side, and a
cart driving against him on the other, the horses reared, the
carriages got entangled; Tom roared out a great oath to the other to
stop, which he either could not, or would not do, but returned an
horrid imprecation that he would win the wager if he was alive.
Tom's horses took fright, and he himself was thrown to the ground
with great violence. As soon as he could be got from under the
wheels, he was taken up senseless, his leg was broken in two places,
and his body was much bruised. Some people whom the noise had
brought together, put him in the post-chaise in which the wagoner
kindly assisted, but the other driver seemed careless and
indifferent, and drove off, observing with a brutal coolness, "I am
sorry I have lost my pint; I should have beat him hollow, had it not
been for this _little accident_." Some gentlemen who came out of the
inn, after reprimanding this savage, inquired who he was, wrote to
inform his master, and got him discharged: resolving that neither
they nor any of their friends would ever employ him, and he was
long out of place, and nobody ever cared to be driven by him.

Tom was taken to one of those excellent hospitals with which London
abounds. His agonies were dreadful, his leg was set, and a high
fever came on. As soon as he was left