from London, and within that circle the “short Tommy” was therefore but seldom seen. One historic occasion there was, however, when such an object did most dramatically present itself before Chaplin, who chanced to be at a wayside inn when one of his coaches pulled up to change. On the roof was a warder with two convicts. As the coachman, with much deliberation, lowered himself from his box to the ground, the “short Tommy” he had been sitting on fell in front of the windows, and as it lay there attracted the eagle eye of that great coach-proprietor, who, sternly bent upon executing justice upon the offender, strode forth. The coachman, dismayed, saw his employer and the forbidden instrument at once, in one comprehensive, understanding gaze; but he was a resourceful man, and handed it to the warder, telling him, with a portentous wink and a warning jerk of the head, that he had dropped something. That worthy, entering into the spirit of the deception, accepted the pretended cat-o’-nine-tails, and the coachman breathed freely again. The days of ten- or eleven mile- stages, just at this time faded away, gave a horse one stretch of so many miles a day; but in the fast coaches of the newer age they ran, as we have seen, out and home, six or seven miles each way. It was to the very last a disputed point whether it was better for a horse to do his ten or eleven miles and have done with it for the day, or to do his two shifts of six or seven. Many coachmen who could not depend upon their horsekeepers objected to two sweats a day; but this division of work was a decided advantage to the horses, if well tended, and in such cases they had the advantage of sleeping at home every night. The number of horses kept for one of the fast coaches of this Augustan age would have astonished the pioneers of coaching; one horse for every mile travelled was the establishment kept up. Slow coaches could do with fewer. The average price paid for a coach-horse at this period was £30, but some were acquired for a mere trifle, owing to their being vicious or unmanageable in private hands. The private owner’s dilemma was the coach-proprietor’s opportunity. It mattered little to him what defects of temper a horse possessed so long as he was sound in wind and limb. For the rest, a little discipline, harnessed with three others, all subject to the rule of those very able disciplinarians, the coachmen, quickly sufficed to bring such an animal to reason. There were thus some very queer animals drawing the coaches in these last years. Some were purchased with a doubtful title. In such a case, to prevent his being recognised and claimed, the horse would be worked on the night mail. The coachman’s ideal was a team matching in colour, but few proprietors ever aimed at such perfection. The cost was great, and nothing, save the gratification of the eye, was gained.