We have four horses, and one postilion, who has a very longwhip, and drives his team, something like the Courier ofSaint Petersburgh in the circle at Astley's or Franconi's: onlyhe sits his own horse instead of standing on him. Theimmense jack-boots worn by these postilions, are sometimesa century or two old; and are so ludicrously disproportionateto the wearer's foot, that the spur, which is put where hisown heel comes, is generally halfway up the leg of theboots. The man often comes out of the stable-yard, with hiswhip in his hand and his shoes on, and brings out, in bothhands, one boot at a time, which he plants on the ground bythe side of his horse, with great gravity, until everything isready. When it is-and oh Heaven the noise they makeabout it -he gets into the boots, shoes and all, or is hoistedinto them by a couple of friends; adjusts the rope harness, embossed by the labours of innumerable pigeons in thestables; makes all the horses kick and plunge; cracks his whiplike a madman; shouts 'En route-Hi ' and away we go. He issure to have a contest with his horse before we have gonevery far; and then he calls him a Thief, and a Brigand, and aPig, and what not; and beats him about the head as if hewere made of wood
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