Having listened to this ultimatum, and being completely discomfited, they accepted these terms, and the sweep was dismissed.

Among the most laughable of old-time skits on coaching miseries is the following breathless account, in the style of the immortal Jingle. Its humour is somewhat broad, and indeed all coaching humour was of the smoking-room rather than of the drawing-room order:--

Stage-coach and Mail in Days of Yore, Volume 1 (of 2) — Part 161

“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-barrelled gun (which you are afraid is loaded)--and a snarling lapdog, in addition to yourself. Awake out of a sound nap with the cramp in one leg and the other in a lady’s bandbox--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 next morning at the very spot you had started from the evening before--not a breath of air--asthmatic old woman and child with the measles--window 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.

Stage-coach and Mail in Days of Yore, Volume 1 (of 2) — Part 161

“OUTSIDE.--Your eye cut out 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 murderers and a noted sheep-stealer in irons, who are being conveyed to gaol--a drunken fellow half-asleep falls off 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 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--lie down--and laid up.”

Stage-coach and Mail in Days of Yore, Volume 1 (of 2) — Part 161