and some people whom he could name"—here he winked upon his companions—"assured him they were not half so good. Then why should he serve them and wear their clothing? He had often told them he should quit their service and be his own master; and now, then, he would do it. Why should he be dependent upon them for the food he ate? He would bear it no longer, but would demand a pension for his services, and retire, and employ a postilion of his own. He was acquainted with their secrets; and if they denied him his request, he would make public a few little matters that they would give any money to conceal, he was sure!"
The poor postilion rambled on after this fashion for some time, and lashed himself and his independent opinions into such a fury, that he madly tore the hat and handkerchief from his head, and the bells from his inexpressibles, and dashed them indignantly against the wall of the apartment.
Ere long, however, his violence seemed exhausted, and a revulsion of feeling took place. Conscience, it was evident, began to accuse him; and he became as cringing and abject, as he had been elevated and uproarious; and
