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    "I took passage on Saturday in the coach for Warrington eighteen miles distant from Liverpool. The gardens and fields looked delightful being in quite as forward a state of vegetation as ours in June. I was much amused at the activity of the tumbling boys who turned head over heels at the side of the coach and with such swiftness as to even keep up with it for some time, which is done in expectation that the passengers will throw them a penny, their parents being so miserably poor that this is resorted to as a means of subsistence. There were six passengers inside and twelve outside the coach, besides the coachman and an abundance of luggage. This added to the weight of the vehicle (which is generally two tons or more), makes it almost incredible that they should be able to go at the rate of seven and eight miles per hour. There is not the least derogation from respectability in riding upon the outside. I should certainly myself give it the preference in fine weather as you are enabled to have a finer view of the country through which you pass than when inside the coach. The danger is however greater in the event of an accident happening to the coach, but as they are made so very strong they are in a degree guarded."
    From 'England in 1815' by J. Ballard.

    Stage-coach Adventures

    Inside. Crammed full of passengers--three fat, fusty, old men--a young mother and sick child--a cross old maid--a poll parrot--a bag of red herrings--double barreled gun, (which you are afraid is loaded)--and a snarling lap dog, in addition to yourself--awaking out of a sound nap, with a cramp in one leg, and the other in a lady's band box--pay the damage (four or five shillings) for "gallantry's sake"--getting out in the dark, at the half-way-house, in the hurry stepping into the return coach, and finding yourself the next morning at the very spot you had started from the evening before--not a breath of air--asthmatic old man, and child with the measles--windows closed in consequence--unpleasant smell--shoes filled with warm water--look up and find it's the child--obliged to bear it--no appeal--shut your eyes, and scold the dog--pretend sleep, and pinch the child--mistake--pinch the dog, and get bit--execrate the child in return--black looks--"no gentleman"--pay the coachman, and drop a piece of gold in the straw--not to be found--fell through a crevice--coachman says, "he'll find it"--can't--get out yourself--gone--picked up by the 'ostler.--No time for "blowing up"--coach off for next stage--lose your money--get in--lose your seat--stuck in the middle--get laughed at--lose your temper--turn sulky, and turned over in a horse pond. Outside.--Your eye cut open by the lash of a clumsy coachman's whip--hat blown off, into a pond, by a sudden gust of wind--seated between two apprehended murders, and a noted sheep stealer in irons, who are being conveyed to the gaol--a drunken fellow, half asleep, falls of the coach, and in attempting to save himself, drags you along with him into the mud--musical guard, and driver, "horn mad"--turned over--one leg under a bale of cotton, the other under the coach--hands in breeches pockets--head in a hamper of wine--lots of broken bottles versus broken heads--cut and run--send for surgeon--wounds dressed--lotion and lint, four dollars--take post-chaise--get home--lay down, and laid up. Inside and Outside.--Drunken coachman--horse sprawling--wheel off--pole breaking, down hill,--axle tree, splitting--coach overturning--winter, and buried in the snow--one eye poked out with an umbrella, the other cut open by the broken window--reins breaking--impudent guard--hurried at meals--imposition of innkeepers--five minutes and a half to swallow three and sixpennyworth of vile meat--waiter a rogue--"Like master, like man"--half a bellyfull, and frozen to death,--internal grumblings and outward complaints--no redress--walk forward while the horses are changed--take the wrong turning--lose yourself and lose the coach--good-by to portmanteau--curse your ill luck--wander about in the dark and find the inn at last--get upon the next coach going the same road--stop at the next inn--brandy and water, hot, to keep you in spirits--warm fire--pleasant company--heard the guard cry "all right?"--run out just in time to sing out 'I'm left," as the coach turns the corner--after it "full tear"--come up with it, at the end of a mile--get up "all in a blowze"--catch cold--sore throat--inflammation--doctor--warm bath--fever--DIE.

    By - Gaspard.

    From the Newgate Calendar

    HENRY HUNT A Driver of the Norwich Mail. Convicted of stealing a Gold Watch sent by his Coach, 8th of April, 1809.

    AT the Old Bailey, on Monday, 8th of April, Henry Hunt was put to the bar charged with having stolen a gold watch, with a metal outside case, and two gold seals, valued at sixteen guineas, the property of a Mr James Bennett. There were other counts in the indictment charging this property to belong to Messrs Gooch & Co., watchmakers, and Messrs Boulton & Co., coach-owners.

    It appeared from the evidence of Mr Gooch that he got the watch in question from Mr Bennett, who resided at Norwich, and that on the 5th of March he booked it at the coach office of Messrs Boulton & Co. for that city, and paid booking. Mr Bennett proved that it never came to hand.

    It appeared that the prisoner was the driver of the Norwich mail, by which coach the parcel containing this property was sent, and that on the 11th of March he went to a public-house, known by the sign of the Bunch of Grapes, in Bow Street, and there stated that he wanted to have a watch, which he had lately bought, either altered or exchanged for a silver watch, and wished the landlord to find out the value of it. The landlord took the watch for that purpose, and the first person to whom he made mention of the fact, after showing it to a watchmaker, was an officer belonging to the public office, Bow Street, of the name of Salmon, who ultimately apprehended the prisoner, when he subsequently came to town, the moment he alighted at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross. The prisoner at first said he had bought it from a person known at Lad Lane by the nickname of " Long Jack," and the officer accompanied him thither; but it turned out to be a gross falsehood.

    A witness of the name of Woodbridge was called to prove that he saw the prisoner buy the watch from a tall man in Lombard Street, whilst the coach was waiting for the mail delivery. But not only was the account which he gave of himself problematical, but his story as to the fact was so gross and contradictory that he was subsequently committed to take his trial for wilful and corrupt perjury, and he was immediately conveyed into Newgate by the officers of the court.

    The jury, without hesitation, found the prisoner guilty. The indictment, however, was, through the lenity of the prosecutors, only maintained to the extent of larceny, by which means the prisoner was saved from a capital conviction ; but the Court had the power of transporting him for seven years. He was sentenced to transportation for seven years.

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