“All right.”
“Hold fast, sir!—let ’em go, Joey! Blow avay, Bill,” then addressing the near wheeler; “eh, vot, you’re at your tantarums again! I’ll vork ’em out of you before ve gets to the end of the stage. Do you know, sir, it vas all along of this here varmint that ve’d the upset last veek.”
“Indeed! we’ve a pleasant prospect before us, then.”
“Oh there’s no fear, sir; I vas never upset in my life, and I’ve been upon this here road for five and twenty years come next Christmas; but it vas all along of a gemman as had the reins in hand, ven poor Ned Burkem just vent in for his mornins, at the King’s Arms—yonder you may see the sign just afore us; ve alvays stops there for our mornins, case you see, sir, the landlord vas von of us, and his daughter is a main pretty girl. I suppose, sir, you’ve no objection to look at a pretty girl, ha, ha!”
“None in the world, James.”
“Veil, here ve are; and now, sir, if you’ll just lay hold of the ribbons for von minute, I’ll leave ’em this here parcel.”
To this proposition I agreed, with the proviso that one ostler should hold the tricksey mare, and another stand at the leaders’ heads, having no wish for a repetition of poor old Ned Burkem’s mishap. The parcel being delivered, the half pint of purl swallowed, and James again seated, like ruddy Phœbus, on the coach box, the horses were put in motion to the tune of eleven miles an hour.
“Very pretty travelling this, Mr. —, I beg your pardon, sir, but your name is —”
“Yes, you’re right, James.”
“Veil, I thought I vas, sir; it’s not always that I can remember names, sir; for you must know that, although I’ve drove some thousands in my time, just seated where you are, sir, at this present, I don’t think I could remember one half of their names.”