"Before I could say yes or no, he gave the prettiest double cut to his leaders with one turn of his hand, that ever I see'd--they sprang like light--whish! whish! went the double thong across the wheelers.--He warn't a second about it all, and while I looked, he was gone like a shot. Though I didn't like it much then, I must say it was the cleanest start I ever clapped eyes upon, and ne'er a whip in England couldn't say it warn't. 'No chance that stage,' said I, growing rather impatient; we warn't far behind for all that--and now, thought I, comes my turn--play or pay's the word--for I knowed my country; leaders down hill ben't no manner of use, quite contrawise; a coachman has enough to do to keep the pole from tickling their tails, and hasn't much time for nothing else. The little mare had done her work, and away we went with such a pair! They'd ha' pulled the wheels off if I'd 'a told them; they know'd I'd got a bet as well as if I'd said so, and away they went the railroad pace." "What!" asked I, "before railroads were thought of?" Coachee always had his answer--"What if they war'n't?--no odds for that--we got the start of _them_ that day, and, maybe, they took the hint--worse luck too, say I--but away we went--it was all neck-and-neck--first and second--second and first. If Banks beat, up--Bond beat, down--till at last 'Mr. H-opposition' see'd how the game was going, and that he hadn't a chance; but he wouldn't allow it, not he. So he pulls up and calls to his guard, and tells him to put the tackle to rights, though there war'n't nothing the matter--and lets me go by as if he wasn't beaten. So, as we passes, I pulls out my watch and _tells him the time o' day_! 'and, Mr. Banks,' says I, 'what shall I order for your supper?'" As coachee wound up the tale of his by-gone victory, it brought on a fit of laughter, which I began to think would never end; when, on a sudden it ceased, and with horror and consternation painted in his face, he exclaimed, "Well, bless my heart alive, that ever I should live to see such a thing!" "Where! what!" said I looking right and left, and almost expecting to see some wonderful beast pop over the hedge. "Well, now, it hasn't got no outside, and"--after a pause--"no, nor I'm blest if it has any inside!" I guessed his meaning by this time; but affecting ignorance, I asked, "What is that wonderful animal without any inside?" "Animal!" he exclaimed, "why, don't you see the poor old Exquisite a coming by itself?" "There is a coachman," said I, as gravely as I could. "Poor Banks!" said coachee, quite touched with compassion, and heedless of my remark. He pulled up, so did the Exquisite. "Well, now, I'm blest, if this isn't worse than solitary confinement, it makes my stomach ache, Mr. Banks!" (A poet would have said, "_my heart_," but depend upon it, coachee meant the same thing.)