ne of your chaff. Don't you think, because you ride on
my mail, I'm going to talk to you about 'orses. I talk to nobody about
'orses except lords.' 'Well,' said I, 'I have been called a lord in my
time.' 'It must have been by a thimble-rigger, then,' said the coachman,
bending back, and half turning his face round with a broad leer. 'You
have hit the mark wonderfully,' said I. 'You coachmen, whatever else you
may be, are certainly no fools.' 'We ain't, ain't we?' said the
coachman. 'There you are right; and, to show you that you are, I'll now
trouble you for your fare. If you have been amongst the thimble-riggers
you must be tolerably well cleared out. Where are you going?--to ---? I
think I have seen you there. The fare is sixteen shillings. Come, tip
us the blunt; them that has no money can't ride on my mail.'

Sixteen shillings was a large sum, and to pay it would make a
considerable inroad on my slender finances; I thought, at first, that I
would say I did not want to go so far; but then the fellow would ask at
once where I wanted to go, and I was ashamed to acknowledge my utter
ignorance of the road. I determined, therefore, to pay the fare, with a
tacit determination not to mount a coach in future without knowing
whither I was going. So I paid the man the money, who, turning round,
shouted to the guard--'All right, Jem; got fare to ---'; and forthwith
whipped on his horses, especially the off-hand leader, for whom he seemed
to entertain a particular spite, to greater speed than before--the horses
flew.

A young moon gave a feeble light, partially illuminating a line of road
which, appearing by no means interesting, I the less regretted having
paid my money for the privilege of being hurried along it in the flying
vehicle. We frequently changed horses; and at last my friend the
coachman was replaced by another, the very image of himself--hawk nose,
red face, with narrow-rimmed hat and fashionable benjamin. After he had
driven about fifty yards, the new coachman fell to whipping one of the
horses. 'D--- this near-hand wheeler,' said he, 'the brute has got a
corn.' 'Whipping him won't cure him of his corn,' said I. 'Who told you
to speak?' said the driver, with an oath; 'mind your own business;
'tisn't from the like of you I am to learn to drive 'orses.' Presently I
fell into a broken kind of slumber. In an hour or two I was aroused by a
rough voice--'Got to ---, young man; get down if you pleas