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 carrier 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. 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 appreciative audience—’
‘It ain’t string,’ said the carrier sullenly, ‘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
Prev.
Back
Top