“No more do I,” said coachman; “so we are of the same opinion.” At this we all laughed, except the old gentleman.
In a short time all was right again. The coachman had resumed his important position as well as the reins, which I abdicated to my great satisfaction, and we were on the move. “Very slippery, governor; my horses can scarcely keep their feet. Thank God, we are not in a hurry; we can do the journey much more comfortably.”
“Excuse me,” said I, “if I do not hold exactly the same opinion as I did just now about the railway.”
“My dear sir, are you in a hurry?” he asked.
“Yes, I am, and very cold besides.”
“What a pity you did not say so before! I should have made my stud fly, and beat to atoms that fussy stuff they call steam.”
“That’s a good man; show off a bit.”
“Pst! pst! pst! Look out for a full charge, Cossack; fly away, Cannon-ball. Pst! pst! that’s it, lads.” We were now nearly at a gallop.
“Coachman,” said I, “I see that your horses have martial names, if they have not a very martial appearance. Pray, who gave them such warlike titles?”
“The boys in the stable, sir. Everybody dreams of war now, sir; the very air we breathe smells of powder. Don’t you think so, sir?”