When Hugh and a small body of the rioters cut off from The Warren
beckoned to their pals, they forced into a very remarkable postchaise
Dolly Varden and Emma Haredale, and bore them away with all possible
rapidity; one of their company driving, and the rest running beside the
chaise, climbing up behind, sitting on the top, lighting the way with
their torches, etc. etc. If you can express the women inside without
showing them--as by a fluttering veil, a delicate arm, or so forth
appearing at the half-closed window--so much the better. Mr. Tappertit
stands on the steps, which are partly down, and, hanging on to the
window with one hand and extending the other with great majesty,
addresses a few words of encouragement to the driver and attendants.
Hugh sits upon the bar in front; the driver sitting postilion-wise, and
turns round to look through the window behind him at the little doves
within. The gentlemen behind are also anxious to catch a glimpse of the
ladies. One of those who are running at the side may be gently rebuked
for his curiosity by the cudgel of Hugh. So they cut away, sir, as fast
as they can.
Always faithfully.
P.S.--John Willet's bar is noble.
We take it for granted that cousin and baby are hearty. Our loves to
them.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]