"Yes.
"Your's,—J. T."
In one hour see this loving couple off for York. Each confiding in the other's integrity, they each took plenty of money with them. At that time, travelling by post or by coach was no joke. In a general way, from London to York was a four days' journey; but now, four hours will do great things.
We are not going to bother our readers with a description of all the adventures of these worthies on their way. How many times they were upset. How many times the post boy's horse fell down. How many spokes, fellies, or hobs, were splintered. Let it suffice that, with two such resolute men inside, who were never at a loss for contrivances under the very worst circumstances, they were sure to get safely through the journey.
Had the reader seen the blunderbuss,—yes, the bell-mouthed brass blunderbuss,—with a strange springing bayonet at the muzzle, the moment it was discharged, and this placed in the fore front of the carriage, directly opposite the sword case behind, he would indeed have said the Doctor was well provided against any robbers of the Yorkshire Ridings.
John, too, had a brace of pistols under his belt. They had no occasion, however to use them. They were conspicuous enough to every post-boy, waiter, and stable-keeper. Whether that kept them from an attack, we know not; but they were not attacked, and arrived safely at the then celebrated Precincts, close to the Cathedral.
They found the great Doctor Greathead, seated in an invalid chair, about four o'clock in the afternoon. His first words of salutation were those of hospitality.
"Gentlemen, have you had any refreshment after your journey?"
Doctor Gambado declared they had only just stept out of the carriage.
"Before I converse with the gentlemen, show them into the refectory. I will be prepared, half an hour hence, for our consultation."