never seen.  The coachman reeled like a fir-tree in a gale, and seemed nearly unsensed.  “Ho! what’s this? a fight! a fight!” sounded from a dozen voices, and people came running from all directions to see what was going on.  The coachman, coming somewhat to himself, disencumbered himself of his coat and hat; and, encouraged by two or three of his brothers of the whip, showed some symptoms of fighting, endeavouring to close with his foe, but the attempt was vain, for 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 sang-froid, always using the guard which I have already described, and putting in, in return, short chopping blows with the swiftness of lightning.  In a very few minutes the countenance of the coachman was literally cut to pieces, and several of his teeth were dislodged; at length he gave in; stung with mortification, however, he repented, and asked for another round; it was granted, to his own complete demolition.  The coachman did not drive his coach back that day, he did not appear on the box again for a week; but he never held up his head afterwards.  Before I quitted the inn, he had disappeared from the road, going no one knew where.

The coachman, as I have said before, was very much disliked upon the road, but there was an esprit de corps amongst the coachmen, and those who stood by did not like to see their brother chastised in such tremendous fashion.  “I never saw such a fight before,” said one.  “Fight! why, I don’t call it a fight at all; this chap here ha’n’t got a scratch, whereas Tom is cut to pieces; it is all along of that guard of his; if Tom could have got within his guard he would have soon served the old chap out.”  “So he would,” said another, “it was all owing to that guard.  However, I think I see into it, and if I had not to drive this afternoon, I would have a turn with the old fellow and soon serve him out.”  “I will fight him now for a guinea,” said the other coachman, half taking off his coat; observing, however, that the elderly individual made a motion towards him, he hitched it upon his shoulder again, and added, “that is, if he had not been fighting already, but as it is, I am above taking an advantage, especially of such a poor old creature as that.”  And when he had said this, he looked around him, and there was a feeble titter of approbation from two or three of the craven crew, who were in the habit of currying favour with the coachmen.  The elderly individual looked for a moment at these last, and then said, “To such fellows as you I have nothing to say;” then turning to the coachmen, “and as for you,” he said, “ye cowardly bullies, I have but one word, which is, that your reign upon the roads is nearly over, and that a time is coming when ye will no longer be wanted or employed in your present capacity, when ye will either have to drive dung-carts, assist as ostlers at village ale-houses, or rot in the workhouse.”  Then putting on his coat and hat, and taking up his bundle, not forgetting his meerschaum, and the rest of his smoking apparatus, he departed on his way.  Filled with curiosity, I followed him.