This is a rest day and the "spare man" works. Let us take a full load away from Ladd Lane. Ten and four with all their luggage; roof piled, boots chock full, besides a few candle-boxes in the cellar.[5] She groans and creaks her way through the city, carefully, yet boldly driven by our artist, and when she leaves her London team at the Hyde and emerges into an open road, she steals away at her natural pace, which, from the evenness of its character, is very hard to beat. There was one coach, and only one, which could give these fast stage-coaches ten minutes and beat them over a twelve-mile stage! It was before the legislature forbade the use of dogs as animals of draught, that there dwelt upon the Great North Road, sometimes in one place, sometimes in another, an old pauper who was born without legs, and, being of a sporting turn of mind, had contrived to get built for himself a small simple carriage, or waggon, very light, having nothing but a board for the body, but fitted with springs, lamps, and all necessary appliances. To this cart he harnessed four fox-hounds, though to perform his quickest time he preferred three abreast. He carried nothing, and lived upon the alms of the passengers by the coaches. His team were cleverly harnessed and well matched in size and pace. His speed was terrific, and as he shot by a coach going ten or twelve miles an hour, he would give a slight cheer of encouragement to his team; but this was done in no spirit of insolence or defiance, merely to urge the hounds to their pace. Arriving at the end of the stage, the passengers would find poor "Old Lal" hopping on his hands to the door of the hostelry, whilst his team, having walked out into the road, would throw themselves down to rest and recover their wind. For many years poor Old Lal continued his amateur competition with some of the fastest and best-appointed coaches on the road; his favourite ground being upon the North Road, between the Peacock at Islington and the Sugarloaf at Dunstable. The latter place was his favourite haven of rest. He had selected it in consequence of a friendship he had formed with one Daniel Sleigh, a double-ground horsekeeper, and the only human being who was in any way enlightened as to the worldly affairs of this poor legless beggar. Daniel Sleigh, as the sequel will prove, richly deserved the confidence so unreservedly placed in him--a confidence far exceeding the mutual sympathies of ordinary friendship; and Daniel Sleigh became Old Lal's banker, sworn to secrecy.