Vell! all I can say is, Joe, I can't keep on a running of my coach vithout never no passengers;
Only, I can't a-bear the hidea of my poor 'osses a going the vay of all 'oss-flesh, and a being made into beef sassengers.
Post Boy.
Yes! that'll be the hend on the poor critturs, no doubt; for I have heerd—and it sartinly is my belief—
That, since the railvays have come in, many houses in town rig'larly every veek biles down three 'osses and a gallovay for halamode beef.
Stage Coachman.
Cuss all railways and steam ingins, says I! I vonders how people can like to travel by sitch houtlandish modes—
Only, to be sure, there is jist now vot they calls a "Manier" for mangling all the country, and hironing all the roads.
Post Boy.
And if they only goes on a using up the iron in the vay they're now doing, depend on it, Vill'am—though I hopes I shan't live to see it!