'Now, gen'lm'n,' cries the guard, with the waybill in his hand.

'Five minutes behind time already!' Up jump the passengers--the two young men smoking like lime-kilns, and the old gentleman grumbling audibly.

The thin young woman is got upon the roof, by dint of a great deal of pulling, and pushing, and helping and trouble, and she repays it by expressing her solemn conviction that she will never be able to get down again.
'All right,' sings out the guard at last, jumping up as the coach starts, and blowing his horn directly afterwards, in proof of the soundness of his wind.

'Let 'em go, Harry, give 'em their heads,' cries the coachman--and off we start as briskly as if the morning were 'all right,' as well as the coach: and looking forward as anxiously to the termination of our journey, as we fear our readers will have done, long since, to the conclusion of our paper..