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 for several hours. Dinner had been on the table at two; at three the postillion had announced that every thing within the compass of his office was ready, but found that his fare were disposed to continue longer in their present quarters. It was seven o'clock before the gentlemen, taking the most affectionate leave of their companion, though naturally strong and active, were assisted by the landlord to their seats in the vehicle. Their friend had not accompanied them to the carriage, being left above found asleep in an elbow chair.

No road can be plainer than from Doncaster to Ferrybridge. The postillion was a sharp intelligent fellow, that had been three years in his present service, and had travelled that stage at least three hundred times in that period. It was a remarkably fine evening in the middle of July. Nothing, therefore, appeared