The witty Reverend then proceeds to refer to wooden pavements instead of stone ones, the new police instead of the superannuated "Charleys," the well-appointed cab (what would he have said to the hansom)? in lieu of the lumbering hackney coach, waterproof instead of primitive pulp hats; he then calls the attention of the reader to the introduction of gentlemen's braces, colchicum, calomel, and clubs. He might have added, the greatest boons of all, the telegraph, which "wafts a sigh from Indus to the Pole," or, unpoetically speaking, announces in an incredibly short space of time the arrival of a friend in India or America, nor would he have omitted chloroform, which saves hours of agony and torture, and which is an especial blessing to the humbler classes, who, when undergoing some painful operation, have not the comforts of the wealthier class about them. CHAPTER III. SLOW COACHES--FAST COACHES--"THE WONDER" AND "BLENHEIM"--PUBLIC DINNERS TO THE DRIVERS--PRESENTATION OF A SILVER CUP TO A DRIVER OF "THE BLENHEIM"--THE YOUNG OXONIANS FAIRLY TAKEN IN--NIMROD ON THE SHREWSBURY AND CHESTER "HIGHFLYER"--BANEFUL EFFECTS OF RAILWAYS ON THE ROAD--"THE DESERTED VILLAGE"--WONDERFUL FEAT OF LOCOMOTION. CHAPTER III. The term "slow coach" became proverbial, and was applied not only to the lumbering six-inside vehicles that travelled at almost a snail's pace, but to every schoolboy and collegian who possessed little or no gumption. Unfortunately, in those days the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals did not exist, or many a hulking fellow would have been had up for his merciless use of the lash when urging his wretched cattle up a severe hill or over ruts recently laid down with large unbroken stones--smooth "macadamised" roads being not then in prospective existence. So heavy was the draught that an appeal was being constantly made to the passengers to alight and walk up any acclivity, which upon a wet day or when the mud was ankle-deep, was not a very pleasant thing. Such was the system of travelling in the good old times, as they were called, when every affair of life moved on at a quiet, jog-trot pace. But when competition of the most eager kind became the order of the day, it cannot be said that mails or coaches stood still. The Edinburgh Mail ran four hundred miles in forty hours, stoppages included. The Exeter day coach, the "Herald," went over its ground, one hundred and seventy-three miles, in twenty hours, an admirable performance, considering the natural unevenness of the country; and the Devonport Mail performed the journey, two hundred and twenty-seven miles, in twenty-two hours. The increase of speed was alarming to those who had been accustomed to the old-fashioned slow coaches, and the rate at which the new vehicles travelled was considered reckless risking of human life.