For the 'appy couples, hang 'em! now takes a "day ticket" to Gretna Green, and runs avay in the most hunromanticated style.
Stage Coachman.
Yes! and vhere now is that beautiful purcession, on the fust of May, to show off the new scarlet coats of the Drivers of Her Majesty's mails?
Vy! if there vos to be sitch a thing, now-a-days, Joe! it 'ud be nuffin but von one long line of them beastly dirty Stokers to them nasty filthy rails.
Post Boy.
Vell! Vill'am, I only vish I vas the hingineer to them there railvay trains—and then their business I vouldn't be werry long sp'iling;
For, if I only had the driving of all of them as likes travelling behind steam ingins, blow me! but I'd bust the bilers of the whole biling.
Stage Coachman.
And, as for my part, if I only had the tooling along of them there D'rectors—into 'em, Crikey! Joe, vouldn't I stick it?
Yes! I'd tool 'em along slap to that "bourne from which no traveller returns;" or, in other words, from which nobody can't get no "Return Ticket."