"Exactly." And Timothy had hardly time to get the word out of his mouth,
when flac, flac, came the whip across our eyes--a little envious wretch,
with his shirt hanging out of his trousers, having called out, _Cut
behind!_ Not wishing to have our faces, or our behinds cut any more, we
hastily descended, and reached the footpath, after having gained about
three miles on the road before we were discovered.

"That wasn't a bad lift, Japhet, and as for the whip I never mind that
with _corduroys_. And now, Japhet, I'll tell you something; we must get
into a wagon, if we can find one going down the road, as soon as it is
dark."

"But that will cost money, Tim."

"It's economy, I tell you; for a shilling, if you bargain, you may ride
the whole night, and if we stop at a public-house to sleep, we shall
have to pay for our beds, as well as be obliged to order something to
eat, and pay dearer for it than if we buy what we want at cooks' shops."

"There is sense in what you say, Timothy; we will look out for a wagon."

"Oh! it's no use now--wagons are like black beetles, not only in shape
but in habits, they only travel by night--at least most of them do. We
are now coming into long dirty Brentford, and I don't know how you feel,
Japhet, but I find that walking wonderfully increases the
appetite--that's another reason why you should not walk when you can
ride--for nothing."

"Well, I'm rather hungry myself; and dear me, how very good that piece