"You've never heard of Rabelais, or Panurge, of course," said I. The Ostler took out his straw, eyed it thoughtfully, and put it back again. "No," said he. "More's the pity!" said I, and was about to turn away, when he drew the nearest fist abruptly from his pocket, and extended it towards me. "Look at that!" he commanded. "Rather dirty," I commented, "but otherwise a good, useful member, I make no doubt." "It's a-goin'," said he, alternately drawing in and shooting out the fist in question, "it's a-goin' to fill your eye up." "Is it?" said I. "Ah!" said he. "But what for?" "I aren't a Semmy, nor yet a Quaver, an' as for Friers," said he, very deliberately, "why—Frier yourself, says I." "Nevertheless," said I, "you are gifted with a certain terse directness of speech that greatly reminds me of—" "Joe!" he called out suddenly over his shoulder. "Mail, Joe!" Lifting my eyes to the brow of the hill, I could see nothing save a faint haze, which, however, gradually grew denser and thicker; and out from this gathering cloud, soft, and faint with distance, stole the silvery notes of a horn. Now I saw the coach itself, and, as I watched it rapidly descending the hill, I longed to be upon it, with the sun above, the smooth road below, and the wind rushing through my hair. On it came at a gallop, rocking and swaying, a good fifteen miles an hour; on it came, plunging into the green shade of trees, and out into the sun again, with ever the gathering dust cloud behind; while clear and high rang the cheery note of the horn. And now, from the cool shadows of the inn yard, there rose a prodigious stamping of hoofs, rattling of chains, and swearing of oaths, and out came four fresh horses, led by two men, each of whom wore topboots, a striped waistcoat, and chewed upon straws. And now the coach swung round the bend, and came thundering down upon "The Chequers," chains jingling, wheels rumbling, horn braying and, with a stamp and ring of hoof, pulled up before the inn. And then what a running to and fro! what a prodigious unbuckling and buckling of straps, while the jovial-faced coachman fanned himself with his hat; and swore jovially at the ostlers, and the ostlers swore back at the coachman, and the guard, and the coach, and the horses, individually and collectively; in the midst of which confusion, down came the window with a bang, and out of the window came a flask, and a hand, and an arm, and, last of all, a great, fat face, round, and mottled, and roaring as it came: "Oho—I say damn it! damn everybody's eyes and bones—brandy! O yoho, house—I say brandy! Guard, landlord, ostlers—brandy, d'ye hear? I say, what the devil! Am I to die for want of a drop of brandy? Oho!"