ts and blazing fire, looks quite
comfortable by contrast--that is to say, if any place _can_ look
comfortable at half-past five on a winter's morning. There stands the
identical book-keeper in the same position as if he had not moved since
you saw him yesterday. As he informs you, that the coach is up the yard,
and will be brought round in about a quarter of an hour, you leave your
bag, and repair to 'The Tap'--not with any absurd idea of warming
yourself, because you feel such a result to be utterly hopeless, but for
the purpose of procuring some hot brandy-and-water, which you do,--when
the kettle boils! an event which occurs exactly two minutes and a half
before the time fixed for the starting of the coach.

The first stroke of six, peals from St. Martin's church steeple, just as
you take the first sip of the boiling liquid. You find yourself at the
booking-office in two seconds, and the tap-waiter finds himself much
comforted by your brandy-and-water, in about the same period. The coach
is out; the horses are in, and the guard and two or three porters, are
stowing the luggage away, and running up the steps of the booking-office,
and down the steps of the booking-office, with breathless rapidity. The
place, which a few minutes ago was so still and quiet, is now all bustle;
the early vendors of the morning papers have arrived, and you are
assailed on all sides with shouts of '_Times_, gen'lm'n, _Times_,'
'Here's _Chron--Chron--Chron_,' '_Herald_, ma'am,' 'Highly interesting
murder, gen'lm'n,' 'Curious case o' breach o' promise, ladies.' The
inside passengers are already in their dens, and the outsides, with the
exception of yourself, are pacing up and down the pavement to keep
themselves warm; they consist of two young men with very long hair, to
which the sleet has communicated the appearance of crystallised rats'
tails; one thin young woman cold and peevish, one old gentleman ditto
ditto, and something in a cloak and cap, intended to represent a military
officer; every member of the party, with a large stiff shawl over his
chin, looking exactly as if he were playing a set of Pan's pipes.

'Take off the cloths, Bob,' says the coachman, who now appears for the
first time, in a rough blue great-coat, of which the buttons behind are
so far apart, that you can't see them both at the same time. 'Now,
gen'lm'n,' cries the guard, with the waybill in his hand. 'Five minutes
behind time already!' Up jump the passeng