next day, I put in my appearance at the Circus, dressed in
my best blue Saxony coat, with metal buttons, yellow waistcoat, tights,
and best Hessians, with a fine new castor on my head, and a carnation
in my button-hole. Lots of chaps came dropping in to go, and every one
wanted the box-seat. "Can I have the box-seat?" said one.--"No, sir; Mr.
Jorrocks has it." "Is the box-seat engaged?" asked another.--"Yes, sir;
Mr. Jorrocks has taken it." "Book me the box," said a third with great
dignity.--"It's engaged already." "Who by?"--"Mr. Jorrocks"; and so they
went on to the tune of near a dozen. Presently a rattling of pole chains
was heard, and a cry was raised of "Here's Sir Wincent!" I looks out,
and saw a werry neat, dark, chocolate-coloured coach, with narrow
red-striped wheels, and a crest, either a heagle or a unicorn (I forgets
which), on the door, and just the proprietors' names below the winder,
and "The Age," in large gilt letters, below the gammon board, drawn
by four blood-like, switch-tailed nags, in beautiful highly polished
harness with brass furniture, without bearing reins--driven by a
swellish-looking young chap, in a long-backed, rough, claret-coloured
benjamin, with fancy-coloured tyes, and a bunch of flowers in his
button-hole--no coachman or man of fashion, as you knows, being complete
without the flower. There was nothing gammonacious about the turn-out;
all werry neat and 'andsome, but as plain as plain could be; and there
was not even a bit of Christmas at the 'orses' ears, which I observed
all the other coaches had. Well, down came Sir Wincent, off went his
hat, out came the way-bill, and off he ran into the office to see what
they had for him. "Here, coachman," says a linen-draper's "elegant
extract," waiting outside, "you've to deliver this (giving him a parcel)
in the Marine Parade the instant you get to Brighton. It's Miss---- 's
bustle, and she'll be waiting for it to put on to go out to dinner, so
you musn't lose a moment, and you may charge what you like for your
trouble." "Werry well," says Sir Wincent, laughing, "I'll take care of
her bustle. Now, book-keeper, be awake. Three insides here, and six
out. Pray, sir," touching his hat to me, "are you booked here? Oh! Mr.
Jorrocks, I see. I begs your pardon. Jump up, then; be lively! what
luggage have you?" "Two carpet-bags, with J. J., Great Coram Street,
upon them." "There, then we'll put them in the front boot, and you'll
have them under you.