« said the gentleman behind.
    »Bred them Suffolk Punches by wholesale?«
    »I should think so,« said the gentleman. »There ain't no sort of orse that I
ain't bred, and no sort of dorg. Orses and dorgs is some men's fancy. They're
wittles and drink to me - lodging, wife, and children - reading, writing, and
'rithmetic - snuff, tobacker, and sleep.«
    »That ain't a sort of man to see sitting behind a coach-box, is it though?«
said William in my ear, as he handled the reins.
    I construed this remark into an indication of a wish that he should have my
place, so I blushingly offered to resign it.
    »Well, if you don't mind, sir,« said William, »I think it would be more
correct.«
    I have always considered this as the first fall I had in life. When I booked
my place at the coach-office I had had »Box Seat« written against the entry, and
had given the book-keeper half-a-crown. I was got up in special greatcoat and
shawl, expressly to do honour to that distinguished eminence; had glorified
myself upon it a good deal; and had felt that I was a credit to the coach. And
here, in the very first stage, I was supplanted by a shabby man with a squint,
who had no other merit than smelling like a livery-stables, and being able to
walk across me, more like a fly than a human being, while the horses were at a
canter!
    A distrust of myself, which has often beset me in life on small occasions,
when it would have been better away, was assuredly not stopped in its growth by
this little incident outside the Canterbury coach. It was in vain to take refuge
in gruffness of speech. I spoke from the pit of my stomach for the rest of the
journey, but I felt completely extinguished, and dreadfully young.
    It was curious and interesting, nevertheless, to be sitting up there, behind
four horses: well educated, well dressed, and with plenty of money in my pocket;
and to look out for the places where I had slept on my weary journey. I had
abundant occupation for my thoughts, in every conspicuous landmark on the road.
When I looked down at the tramps whom we passed, and saw that well-remembered
style of face turned up, I felt as if the tinker's blackened hand were in
