"Now hark'e, waiter! there's the guard blowing his horn, and we have
scarcely had a bite apiece," cries Mr. Jorrocks, as that functionary
sounded his instrument most energetically in the passage; "blow me
tight, if I stir before the full half-hour's up, so he may blow till
he's black in the face." "Take some cheese, sir?" inquires the waiter.
"No, surely not, some more pork, and then some tarts". "Sorry, sir,
we have no tarts we can recommend. Cheese is partiklar good." [Enter
coachman, peeled down to a more moderate-sized man.]

"Leaves ye here, if you please, sur." "With all my heart, my good
friend." "Please to remember the coachman--driv ye thirty miles." "Yes,
but you'll recollect how saucy you were about my wife's bonnet-box
there's sixpence between us for you." "Oh, sur! I'm sure I didn't mean
no unpurliteness. I 'opes you'll forget it; it was werry aggravising,
certainly, but driv ye thirty miles. 'Opes you'll give a trifle more,
thirty miles." "No, no, no more; so be off." "Please to remember the
coachman, ma'am, thirty miles!" "Leaves ye here, sir, if you please;
goes no further, sir; thirty miles, ma'am; all the vay from Lunnun,
sir."

A loud flourish on the bugle caused the remainder of the gathering to
be made in dumb show, and having exhausted his wind, the guard squeezed
through the door, and, with an extremely red face, assured the company
that "time was hup" and the "coach quite ready." Then out came the
purses, brown, green, and blue, with the usual inquiry, "What's dinner,
waiter?" "Two and six, dinner, beer, three,--two and nine yours,"
replied the knock-kneed caitiff to the first inquirer, pushing
a blue-and-white plate under his nose; "yours is three and six,
ma'am;--two glasses of brandy-and-water, four shillings, if you please
sir--a bottle of real Devonshire cider."--"You must change me a