“Then go and sit down to breakfast, and before you have finished, get up and go and give your horse a feed of corn; chat with the ostler two or three minutes till your horse has taken the shine out of his corn, which will prevent the ostler taking any of it away when your back’s turned.  Then go and finish your breakfast, and when you have finished your breakfast, when you have called for the newspaper, go and water your horse, letting him have about one pailful; then give him another feed of corn, and enter into discourse with the ostler about bull-baiting, the prime minister, and the like; and when your horse has once more taken the shine out of his corn, go back to your room and your newspaper.  Then pull the bell-rope and order in your bill, which you will pay without counting it up—­supposing you to be a gentleman.  Give the waiter sixpence, and order out your horse, and when your horse is out, pay for the corn, and give the ostler a shilling, then mount your horse and walk him gently for five miles.

“See to your horse at night, and have him well rubbed down.  Next day, you may ride your horse forty miles just as you please, and those will bring you to your journey’s end, unless it’s a plaguey long one.  If so, never ride your horse more than five-and-thirty miles a day, always seeing him well fed, and taking more care of him than yourself, seeing as how he is the best animal of the two.”

The stage-coachmen of that time—­low fellows, but masters of driving—­ were made so much fuss of by sprigs of nobility and others that their brutality and rapacious insolence had reached a climax.  One, who frequented our inn, and who was called the “bang-up coachman,” was a swaggering bully, who not only lashed his horses unmercifully, but in one or two instances had beaten in a barbarous manner individuals who had quarrelled with him.  One day an inoffensive old fellow of sixty, who refused him a tip for his insolence, was lighting his pipe, when the coachman struck it out of his mouth.

The elderly individual, without manifesting much surprise, said:  “I thank you; and if you will wait a minute I’ll give you a receipt for that favour.”  Then, gathering up his pipe, and taking off his coat and hat, he advanced towards the coachman, holding his hands crossed very near his face.

The coachman, who expected anything but such a movement, pointed at him derisively with his finger.  The next moment, however, the other had struck aside the hand with his left fist, and given him a severe blow on the nose with his right, which he immediately followed by a left-hand blow in the eye.  The coachman endeavoured to close, but his foe was not to be closed with; he did not shift or dodge about, but warded off the blows of his opponent with the greatest sangfroid, always using the same guard, and putting in short, chopping blows with the quickness of lightning.  In a very few minutes the coachman was literally cut to pieces.  He did not appear on the box again for a week, and never held up his head afterwards.