he day of his death.
He knew nothing of the outer world, and the rector found his intercourse
with a man so original, fresh, and untainted a real pleasure. He was
physically timid, and the account of a voyage across the Channel or a
journey by coach filled him with dread. One day he said to Mr. Young,
"Am I, reverend sir, to understand that you voluntarily trust your
perishable body to the outside of a vehicle, of the soundness of which
you know nothing, and suffer yourself to be drawn to and fro by four
strange animals, of whose temper you are ignorant, and are willing to
be driven by a coachman of whose capacity and sobriety you are
uninformed?" On being assured that such was the case, he concluded that
"the love of risk and adventure must be a very widely-spread instinct,
seeing that so many people are ready to expose themselves to such
fearful casualties." He was grateful to think that he had never been
exposed to such terrific hazards. What the worthy clerk would have said
concerning the risks of motoring somewhat baffles imagination.

When just before the opening of the Great Western Railway line the
Company ran a coach through the village from Bath to Swindon, the clerk
witnessed with his own eyes the dangers of travelling. The school
children were marshalled in line to welcome the coach, bouquets of
laurestina and chrysanthema were ready to be bestowed on the passengers,
the church bells rang gaily, when after long waiting the cheery notes of
the key-bugle sounded the familiar strains of "Sodger Laddie," and the
steaming steeds hove in sight, an accident occurred. At a sharp turn
just opposite the clerk's house the swaying coach overturned, and the
outside passengers were thrown into the midst of his much-prized
ash-leaf kidneys. The clerk fled precipitately to the extreme borders of
his domain, and afterwards said to the rector, "Ah, sir, was I right in
saying I would never enter such a dangerous carriage as a four-horse
coach? I assure you I was not the least surprised. It was just what I
expected."

When the first railway train passed through the village he was
overwhelmed with emotion at the sight. He fell prostrate on the bank as
if struck by a thunder-bolt. When he stood up his brain reeled, he was
speechless, and stood aghast, unutterable amazement stamped upon his
face. In the tone of a Jeremiah he at length gasped out, "Well, sir,
what a sight to have seen: but one I never care to see again! How awful!