'You must have seen a deal, sir,' remarked the carrier, touching
up his horse; 'I wish I could have had your advantages.'

'Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old
Testament?' continued the old gentleman. 'One hundred and (if I

remember exactly) forty-seven times.'
'Do it indeed, sir?' said Mr Chandler. 'I never should have

thought it.'
'The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand

two hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are
upward of eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the

Bible; Wycliff was the first to introduce it into England about
the year 1300. The "Paragraph Bible", as it is called, is a

well-knownedition, and is so called because it is divided into
paragraphs. The "Breeches Bible" is another well-knowninstance,

and gets its name either because it was printed by one Breeches,
or because the place of publication bore that name.'

The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural,
and turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a

cart of hay; it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was
narrow, and there was a ditch on either hand.

'I perceive,' began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully
passed the cart, 'that you hold your reins with one hand; you

should employ two.'
'Well, I like that!' cried the carriercontemptuously" target="_blank" title="ad.蔑视地；傲慢地">contemptuously. 'Why?'

'You do not understand,' continued Mr Finsbury. 'What I tell you
is a scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a

branch of mechanics" target="_blank" title="n.力学；构成法；技巧">mechanics. There are some very interesting little
shilling books upon the field of study, which I should think a

man in your station would take a pleasure to read. But I am
afraid you have not cultivated the art of observation; at least

we have now driven together for some time, and I cannot remember
that you have contributed a single fact. This is a very false

principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you
observed that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your

left?'
'Of course I did,' cried the carrier, who was now getting

belligerent; 'he'd have the law on me if I hadn't.'
'In France, now,' resumed the old man, 'and also, I believe, in

the
United States of America, you would have taken the right.'

'I would not,' cried Mr Chandler indignantly. 'I would have taken
the left.'

'I observe again,' continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply,
'that you mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string.

I have always protested against this carelessness and
slovenliness of the English poor. In an essay that I once read

before an appreciativeaudience--'
'It ain't string,' said the carriersullenly, 'it's pack-thread.'

'I have always protested,' resumed the old man, 'that in their
private and domestic life, as well as in their labouring career,

the lower classes of this country are improvident, thriftless,
and extravagant. A stitch in time--'

'Who the devil ARE the lower classes?' cried the carrier. 'You
are the lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming

aristocrat, I shouldn't have given you a lift.'
The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain

the pair were not congenial, and further conversation, even to
one of Mr Finsbury's pathetic loquacity, was out of the question.

With an angry gesture, he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap
over his eyes, and, producing a notebook and a blue pencil from

one of his innermost pockets, soon became absorbed in
calculations.

On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if
(now and again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was

with mingled feelings of triumph and alarm--triumph because he
had succeeded in arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest

(by any accident) it should begin again. Even the shower, which
presentlyovertook and passed them, was endured by both in

silence; and it was still in silence that they drove at length
into Southampton.

Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the
streets of the old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled

for the evening meal; and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently
of his night's lodging. He put his papers by, cleared his throat,

and looked doubtfully at Mr Chandler.
'Will you be civil enough,' said he, 'to recommend me to an inn?'

Mr Chandler pondered for a moment.
'Well,' he said at last, 'I wonder how about the "Tregonwell

Arms".'
'The "Tregonwell Arms" will do very well,' returned the old man,

'if it's clean and cheap, and the people civil.'
'I wasn't thinking so much of you,' returned Mr Chandler

thoughtfully. 'I was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the
'ouse; he's a friend of mine, you see, and he helped me through

my trouble last year. And I was thinking, would it be fair-like
on Watts to saddle him with an old party like you, who might be

the death of him with general information. Would it be fair to
the 'ouse?' enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid appeal.

'Mark me,' cried the old gentleman with spirit. 'It was kind in
you to bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to

address me in such terms. Here's a shilling for your trouble;
and, if you do not choose to set me down at the "Tregonwell

Arms", I can find it for myself.'
Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something

apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through
several intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length

before the bright windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr
Watts.

'Is that you, Jem?' cried a hearty voice from the stableyard.
'Come in and warm yourself.'

'I only stopped here,' Mr Chandler explained, 'to let down an old
gent that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he's

worse nor a temperance lecturer.'
Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with

his long drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident.
The friendly Mr Watts, in spite of the carter's scarcely

agreeable introduction, treated the old gentleman with the utmost
courtesy, and led him into the back parlour, where there was a

big fire burning in the grate. Presently a table was spread in
the same room, and he was invited to seat himself before a stewed

fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service before--and a
big pewter mug of ale from the tap.

He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to
one nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an

eye to the delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present,
all men, and (as Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men.

Often already had he seen cause to bless that appetite for
disconnected fact and rotatory argument which is so marked a

character of the mechanic. But even an audience of working men
has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed in the

necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his
nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them

before him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out;
now he skimmed them over, apparently well pleased with their

contents; now, with tapping pencil and contracted brows, he
seemed maturely to consider some particular statement. A stealthy

glance about the room assured him of the success of his
manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, mouths were

open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the same