into intelligence, it was found, that when the robber had detained the horses, the coachman, who required very little to conquer his turbulent faculties, had—(he himself said, by a violent blow from the ruffian, though, perhaps, the cause lay nearer home)—quitted the coach-box for the kennel, the horses grew frightened, and after plunging and rearing till he cared no longer to occupy himself with their arrest, the highwayman had very quietly cut the traces, and by the time present, it was not impossible that the horses were almost at the door of their stables at Bath.
The footman who had apprised the Squire of this misfortune was, unlike most news-tellers, the first to offer consolation.
"There be an excellent public," quoth he, "about a half a mile on, where your honour could get horses; or mayhap, if Miss Lucy, poor heart, be faint, you may like to stop for the night."
Though a walk of half a mile in a dark night, and under other circumstances, would not have seemed a grateful proposition, yet at present,
