the little inquisitive old man of the place—who
sees all the midday coaches change horses, speculates
on the passengers and sees who the parcels are for—and,
though last but not least, Mr. Bangup, the “varmint”
man, the height of whose ambition is to be taken for
a coachman. As the coach pulled up, he was in
the bar taking a glass of cold sherry “without”
and a cigar, which latter he brings out lighted in
his mouth, with his shaved white hat stuck knowingly
on one side, and the thumbs of his brown hands thrust
into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, throwing back
his single breasted fancy buttoned green coat, and
showing a cream coloured cravat, fastened with a gold
coach-and-four pin, which, with a buff waistcoat and
tight drab trousers buttoning over the boot, complete
his “toggery,” as he would call it.
His whiskers are large and riotous in the extreme,
while his hair is clipped as close as a charity schoolboy’s.
The coachman and he are on the best of terms, as the
outward twist of their elbows and jerks of the head
on meeting testify. His conversation is short
and slangy, accompanied with the correct nasal twang.
After standing and blowing a few puffs, during which
time the passengers have all alighted, and the coachman
has got through the thick of his business, he takes
the cigar out of his mouth, and, spitting on the flags,
addresses his friend with, “Y’ve got the
old near-side leader back from Joe, I see.”
“Yes, Mr. Bangup, yes,” replies his friend,
“but I had some work first—our gov’rnor
was all for the change—at last, says I
to our ’osskeeper, says I, it arn’t no
use your harnessing that ’ere roan for me any
more, for as how I von’t drive him, so it’s
not to no use harnessing of him, for I von’t
be gammon’d out of my team not by none on them,
therefore it arn’t to never no use harnessing
of him again for me.” “So you did
’em,” observes Mr. Bangup. “Lord
bless ye, yes! it warn’t to no use aggravising
about it, for says I, I von’t stand it, so it
warn’t to no manner of use harnessing of him
again for me.” “Come, Smith, what
are you chaffing there about?” inquires the landlord,
coming out with the wide-spread way-bill in his hands,
“have you two insides?” “No, gov’rnor,
I has but von, and that’s precious empty, haw!
haw! haw!” “Well, but now get Brown to
blow his horn early, and you help to hurry the passengers
away from my grub, and may be I’ll give you your
dinner for your trouble,” replies the landlord,
reckoning he would save both his meat and his horses
by the experiment. “Ay, there goes the dinner!”
added he, just as Mr. Jorrocks’s voice was heard
inside the “Pig and Crossbow,” giving
a most tremendous roar for his food.—“Pork
at the top, and pork at the bottom,” the host
observes to the waiter in passing, “and mind,
put the joints before the women—they are
slow carvers.”