and taking a coat over his arm, he turned out; when just before the door
he saw a man muffled up in a great military cloak, and a glazed hat,
endeavouring to back a nondescript double-bodied carriage (with lofty
mail box-seats and red wheels), close to the pavement. "Who-ay, who-ay,"
said he, "who-ay, who-ay, horse!" at the same time jerking at his mouth.
As the Yorkshireman made his exit, a pair eyes of gleamed through the
small aperture between the high cloak collar and the flipe of the glazed
hat, which he instantly recognised to belong to Jorrocks. "Why, what the
deuce is this you are in?" said he, looking at the vehicle. "Jump up,"
said Jorrocks, "and I'll tell you all about it," which having done, and
the machine being set in motion he proceeded to relate the manner in
which he had exchanged his cruelty-van for it--by the way, as arrant
a bone-setter as ever unfortunate got into, but which he, with the
predilection all men have for their own, pronounced to be a "monstrous
nice carriage." On their turning off the rough pavement on to the quiet
smooth Macadamised road leading to Waterloo Bridge, his dissertation was
interrupted by a loud horse-laugh raised by two or three toll-takers and
boys lounging about the gate.

"I say, Tom, twig this 'ere machine," said one. "Dash my buttons, I
never seed such a thing in all my life." "What's to pay?" inquired
Jorrocks, pulling up with great dignity, their observations not having
penetrated the cloak collar which encircled his ears. "To pay!" said the
toll-taker--"vy, vot do ye call your consarn?" "Why, a phaeton," said
Jorrocks. "My eyes! that's a good 'un," said another. "I say, Jim--he
calls this 'ere thing a phe-a-ton!" "A phe-a-ton!--vy, it's more like a
fire-engine," said Jim. "Don't be impertinent," said Jorrocks, who had
pulled down his collar to hear what he had to pay--"but tell me what's
to pay?" "Vy, it's a phe-a-ton drawn by von or more 'orses," said
the toll-taker; "and containing von or more asses," said Tom.