plaid,[18] and
other dodges for preserving the caloric,[19] and most of you going in
those fuzzy, dusty, padded, first-class carriages.[20] It was another
affair altogether, a dark ride on the top of the Tally-ho, I can tell
you, in a tight Petersham coat, and your feet dangling six inches from
the floor. Then you knew what cold was, and what it was to be without
legs, for not a bit of feeling had you in them after the first
half hour. But it had its pleasures,--the cold, dark ride. First
there was the consciousness of silent endurance, so dear to every
Englishman,--of standing out against something, and not giving in.
Then there was the music of the rattling harness, and the ring of the
horses' feet on the hard road, and the glare of the two bright lamps
through the steaming hoar-frost,[21] over the leader's ears, into the
darkness; and the cheery toot of the guard's horn, to warn some drowsy
pikeman[22] or the ostler at the next change; and the looking forward
to daylight--and last, but not least, the delight of returning
sensation in your toes.

[18] #Rug or plaid#: a thick shawl or other wrap.

[19] #Caloric#: here, heat of the body.

[20] #First-class carriages#: in England the railway cars
(called "carriages") are divided into first, second, and third
class.

[21] #Hoar-frost#: frozen dew.

[22] #Pikeman#: the man who takes toll on a turnpike.

Then the break of dawn and the sunrise, where can they be ever seen in
perfection but from a coach roof? You want motion and change and music
to see them in their glory; not the music of singing men and singing
women, but good silent music, which sets itself in your own head, the
accompaniment of work and getting over the ground.

The Tally-ho is past St. Albans,[23] and Tom is enjoying the ride,
though half frozen. The guard, who is alone with him on the back of
the coach, is silent, but has muffled Tom's feet up in straw, and put
the end of an oat-sack over his knees. The darkness has driven him
inward, and he has gone over his little past life, and thought of all
his doings and promises, and of his mother and sister, and his
father's last words; and has made fifty good resolutions, and means to
bear himself like a brave Brown as he is, though a young one. Then he
has been forward into the mysterious boy-future, speculating as to
what sort of a place Rugby is, and what they do there, and calling up
all the stories of public schools whi