Young gentlemen went eagerly to
Moulsey to see the Slasher punch the Pet's head, or the Negro beat the
Jew's nose to a jelly. The island rang as yet with the tooting horns and
rattling teams of mail-coaches; a gay sight was the road in merry England
in those days, before steam-engines arose and flung its hostelry and
chivalry over. To travel in coaches, to drive coaches, to know coachmen
and guards, to be familiar with inns along the road, to laugh with the
jolly hostess in the bar, to chuck the pretty chambermaid under the chin,
were the delight of men who were young not very long ago. Who ever
thought of writing to the Times then? "Biffin," I warrant, did not grudge
his money, and "A Thirsty Soul" paid cheerfully for his drink. The road
was an institution, the ring was an institution. Men rallied round them;
and, not without a kind conservatism, expatiated upon the benefits with
which they endowed the country, and the evils which would occur when they
should be no more:--decay of English spirit, decay of manly pluck, ruin
of the breed of horses, and so forth, and so forth.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262