asts with us, is a cold-beef man.
He also eschews hot potations, and addicts himself to a tankard of
ale, which is brought him by the barmaid. Sportsman looks on
approvingly, and orders a ditto for himself.

Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon pie, and imbibed coffee, till his
little skin is as tight as a drum; and then has the further pleasure
of paying head waiter out of his own purse, in a dignified manner, and
walks out before the inn-door to see the horses put to. This is done
leisurely and in a highly finished manner by the ostlers, as if
they enjoyed the not being hurried. Coachman comes out with his
way-bill,[35] and puffing a fat cigar which the sportsman has given
him. Guard emerges from the tap,[36] where he prefers breakfasting,
licking round a tough-looking doubtful cheroot, which you might tie
round your finger, and three whiffs of which would knock any one else
out of time.

[35] #Way-bill#: a list of passengers in a public vehicle.

[36] #Tap#: bar-room.

The pinks[37] stand about the inn-door lighting cigars and waiting to
see us start, while their hacks are led up and down the market-place
on which the inn looks. They all know our sportsman, and we feel a
reflected credit when we see him chatting and laughing with them.

[37] #Pinks#: huntsmen.

"Now, sir, please," says the coachman; all the rest of the passengers
are up; the guard is locking up the hind-boot.

"A good run to you," says the sportsman to the pinks, and is by the
coachman's side in no time.

"Let 'em go, Dick!" The ostlers fly back, drawing off the cloths from
their glossy loins, and away we go through the market-place and down
the High Street,[38] looking in at the first-floor[39] windows, and
seeing several worthy burgesses[40] shaving thereat; while all the
shop-boys who are cleaning the windows, and the house-maids who are
doing the steps, stop and looked pleased as we rattle past, as if we
were a part of their legitimate morning's amusement. We clear the
town, and are well out between the hedgerows again as the town clock
strikes eight.

[38] #High Street#: the main street.

[39] #First-floor#: the floor above the ground-floor,--the
second story.

[40] #Burgess#: a citizen or voter in a town.

GUARD DISCOURSES ON RUGBY.

The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast has oiled all springs and
loosened all tongues. Tom is encouraged by a remark or two of the
guard's between the puffs of his oi