the "first gentleman of his day," as loyal folk then entitled the
Prince Regent, could not have surpassed--"Sir, will you favour me by
informing us how far it is to Coltham?"

"Ten miles, and the stage will pass here in three hours."

"Thank you; at present I have little to do with the--at least with
THAT stage. Young gentlemen, excuse our continuing our dessert, in
fact, I may say our dinner. Are you connoisseurs in turnips?"

He offered us--with a polite gesture--one of the "swedes" he was
munching. I declined; but John, out of a deeper delicacy than I
could boast, accepted it.

"One might dine worse," he said; "I have done, sometimes."

"It was a whim of mine, sir. But I am not the first remarkable
person who has eaten turnips in your Norton Bury fields--ay, and
turned field-preacher afterwards--the celebrated John Philip--"

Here the elder and less agreeable of the two wayfarers interposed
with a nudge, indicating silence.

"My companion is right, sir," he continued. "I will not betray our
illustrious friend by mentioning his surname; he is a great man now,
and might not wish it generally known that he had dined off turnips.
May I give you instead my own humble name?"

He gave it me; but I, Phineas Fletcher, shall copy his reticence, and
not indulge the world therewith. It was a name wholly out of my