the little inquisitive old man of the place—­who sees all the midday coaches change horses, speculates on the passengers and sees who the parcels are for—­and, though last but not least, Mr. Bangup, the “varmint” man, the height of whose ambition is to be taken for a coachman.  As the coach pulled up, he was in the bar taking a glass of cold sherry “without” and a cigar, which latter he brings out lighted in his mouth, with his shaved white hat stuck knowingly on one side, and the thumbs of his brown hands thrust into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, throwing back his single breasted fancy buttoned green coat, and showing a cream coloured cravat, fastened with a gold coach-and-four pin, which, with a buff waistcoat and tight drab trousers buttoning over the boot, complete his “toggery,” as he would call it.  His whiskers are large and riotous in the extreme, while his hair is clipped as close as a charity schoolboy’s.  The coachman and he are on the best of terms, as the outward twist of their elbows and jerks of the head on meeting testify.  His conversation is short and slangy, accompanied with the correct nasal twang.  After standing and blowing a few puffs, during which time the passengers have all alighted, and the coachman has got through the thick of his business, he takes the cigar out of his mouth, and, spitting on the flags, addresses his friend with, “Y’ve got the old near-side leader back from Joe, I see.”  “Yes, Mr. Bangup, yes,” replies his friend, “but I had some work first—­our gov’rnor was all for the change—­at last, says I to our ’osskeeper, says I, it arn’t no use your harnessing that ’ere roan for me any more, for as how I von’t drive him, so it’s not to no use harnessing of him, for I von’t be gammon’d out of my team not by none on them, therefore it arn’t to never no use harnessing of him again for me.”  “So you did ’em,” observes Mr. Bangup.  “Lord bless ye, yes! it warn’t to no use aggravising about it, for says I, I von’t stand it, so it warn’t to no manner of use harnessing of him again for me.”  “Come, Smith, what are you chaffing there about?” inquires the landlord, coming out with the wide-spread way-bill in his hands, “have you two insides?” “No, gov’rnor, I has but von, and that’s precious empty, haw! haw! haw!” “Well, but now get Brown to blow his horn early, and you help to hurry the passengers away from my grub, and may be I’ll give you your dinner for your trouble,” replies the landlord, reckoning he would save both his meat and his horses by the experiment.  “Ay, there goes the dinner!” added he, just as Mr. Jorrocks’s voice was heard inside the “Pig and Crossbow,” giving a most tremendous roar for his food.—­“Pork at the top, and pork at the bottom,” the host observes to the waiter in passing, “and mind, put the joints before the women—­they are slow carvers.”