thing,
simply for a week's change of air," and where he promised to give me
some curious explanations of his theory--that money was the master of
all things, men, manners, and opinions.

On one of the finest mornings of autumn, I was on the box of the Royal
Sussex Stage.

I had full leisure to admire the country, for our progress occupied
nearly the whole day. We now laugh at our slow-moving forefathers, but
is not the time coming when our thirty miles an hour will be laughed at
as much as their five? when our passage from Calais to Dover will be
made by the turn of a winch, and Paris will be within the penny-post
delivery? when the balloon will carry our letters and ourselves; until
that still more rapid period, when we shall ride on cannon-shot, and
make but a stage from London to Pekin?

On the roof of the coach I found a strong-featured and closely
wrapped-up man, who, by degrees, performed the part of my cicerone. His
knowledge of the localities was perfect; "every bush and bosky dell,"
every creek and winding, as the shore came in sight, was so familiar to
him, that I should have set him down at once for a smuggler, but for a
superiority of tone in his language, and still more from the evident
deference to him by the coachman, in those days a leading authority with
all the passengers. His occupation is now nearly o'er. Fire and water
have swept him away. His broad back, his broad grin, and his broad
buttons, are now but recollections.

My new acquaintance exhibited as perfect a knowledge of the country
residents as of its map, and nothing could be more unhesitating than his
opinions of them all, from the prince and his set, as he termed them, to
Mordecai himself. Of my Jew friend, he said, with a laugh, "There is not
a better friend to the King's Bench in all England. If you have any
thing to lose, he will strip you on the spot. If you have nothing, you
may escape, unless he can make something by having you hanged." I begged
of him to spare my new friend. "Why," said he, "he is one of my oldest
friends, and one of the cleverest fellows alive. I speak tenderly of
him, from admiration of his talents. I have a liking for the perfection
of a rogue. He is a superb fellow. You will find his 'Hermitage,' as he
calls it, a pond of gold fish. But all this you will soon learn for
yourself." The coach now stopped on a rising ground, which showed the
little fishing village beneath us, basking in the glow of sunset. My
c