A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
I knew, however, that I was in Gloucestershire; and from a sign-post, pointing the way I came the night gone, I learned that I had passed the towns of Thornbery and Slimbridge. I was cogitating over how to get a bit to eat when something happened that put even hunger out of my head--I heard the tooting of a horn! Turning about, I saw the coach coming up a little hill, swinging along at a good pace, with the leaders in a gallop.
The boldest course was the best, so I leaned against a stone post that had cut in it "Eight miles to Hardwick," and waited for the mail to come up. The driver, a ruddy-faced individual in a multitude of cloaks and a wide beaver, caught my intention.
"Are ye off to Gloucester, lad?" he cried, drawing up.
"Ay," I answered. "Hold up there, and I'll take a passage."
There were but three beside the guard on top, and I clambered over the wheel up to the front seat before the coach had lost its headway. I feared most dreadfully that the driver would begin to question me at once, but, thank the powers, he did not. Keeping up a continuous clicking sound against his teeth, and gracefully flourishing the long-lashed whip, and catching the leaders now and again with the end of it most cleverly, he drove ahead without speaking.
Now all the time I was wondering how I was going to pay the fare, when the red-faced man made this matter smooth sailing.
"'E better get off before we get into the town, laad," he said, "then we won't ask noo fare o' ye."
"Not a bit, not a bit," he returned. "A soldier on a spree wants all 'e can spend, eh?"
I nodded, and for an hour we drove on in silence. For a long time there had been visible a great square tower rising above the stretches of vineyards, corn-lands, and gardens. The country was interspersed with rich pastures in which fat, broad-backed sheep were grazing. How I drank in all the sights and sounds, craning my neck and straining my eyes and ears! Beautiful residences of the aristocracy, with wide-spreading parks, were frequent on each side of the highway, and soon scattered houses overgrowing with vines proclaimed that we were on the outskirts of the town. That the tower that was in sight belonged to some great church was very plain, but I feared to ask about it. The driver pulled up his horses, and understanding him to mean that my ride was over, I descended, after an expression of my gratitude.