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Well, they had not got very far before Mrs. Fitzwiggin popped

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John called to the groom to bid the coachman pull up, and as soon as the black horse and brown horse had left off kicking, he descended from the rumble, and appeared at the carriage door.

"Yes, ma'am," said he, touching his hat politely-a footman is worth nothing unless he is polite, you know; and no more, in my opinion, are boys and girls. Politeness is the oil which makes the

wheels of life go smoothly.

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Yes, ma'am," said the footman. [Tom Brown, a forfeit! You sat looking at me, and laughing, instead of turning round like a clever footman. Another forfeit, Tom!]

“I think, John," said Mrs. Fitzwiggin, "there's something the matter with the axle; it creaks so terribly!"

"Oh, no, ma'am. The coachman looked at it carefully before It creaks, ma'am, just because you so seldom use the

we started.

FAMILY COACH !"

[Hush, hush! what a clamour!

of the journey, with all this noise.]

We shall never get to the end

But oh, my poor

-are-so-bad--I---think-I-must

"Oh, very well then, John; that will do. nerves ! And these spasms-just-taste-a-little-drop-of-wine!"

John called the butler, who had brought a corkscrew in his pocket. The bottle of port was soon opened, and a wine-glass being found in the rumble, Mrs. Fitzwiggin took a drop to cure

her spasms, and Mr. Fitzwiggin a drop to keep his wife company. Water would have been better for both of them, I think.

[Bessie Seymour, a forfeit! She did not turn round when I last mentioned her.]

This ceremony over, the butler and the footman again shut up the steps, on which they had been standing, and returned to their rumble. But as they were on the point of starting, the coachman dropped his whip, and the groom had to jump off the box and pick it up. Then the brown horse grew rather troublesome, but a cut of the whip and a jerk with the reins soon quieted him, especially as the black horse behaved as well as Walter Brown does when he is asleep, or Harry Johnson when he has his mouth full of plumpudding; and so, once more, with a creak of the axle, and a loud rattle, away went the-the

The FAMILY COACH!

For a few minutes all went on very quietly, and Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwiggin, as they rolled along the green fragrant lane, whose hedge on either side was gay with honeysuckle and wild roses, felt very much delighted. "What a pity," said Mr. Fitzwiggin, "we

don't oftener make use of the FAMILY COACH!"

The outside passengers were not less pleased. The footman and the butler chatted together very pleasantly. The groom sang all the songs he could remember, and snatches of those he couldn't. remember. The coachman flourished his whip, and smacked it loudly; handled his reins with grace; and now flicked a fly off the brown horse, now off the black. Even the axle left off creaking.

[A forfeit for Fanny Brown! She was not paying attention.]

I can't say anything about the rumble, the box, or the stepsexcept that if Caroline, Harry, and Walter don't turn round, they will each have to pay a forfeit ;-but this I can say, that nothing ever went more smoothly than did Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwiggin's FAMILY COACH !

[Caroline is in my seat. A forfeit, if you please, my dear.]

But all that's bright must fade. There's a crook in every lot. After sunshine comes rain. We can't always be happy, you know. I am sorry to say the groom's songs so delighted the coachman, that he forgot his duty!

Yes, forgot his duty; and when anybody forgets that, some trouble is sure to happen.

He turned round on his box so that he could see the footman and the butler in the rumble, and asked them if they didn't think that Sam Weller (the groom, you know) was an out-and-out singer! (That was his vulgar way of expressing himself, my dears, not mine; I don't like vulgar language, and I hope you don't.)

In turning round he let go of the reins. The groom bent forward to catch them, and by his sudden motion knocked the whip out of the coachman's hands. It fell upon the brown horse, and so frightened him that he started off at a gallop, compelling the black horse to gallop also. In fact, they ran away!

I must leave you to imagine everybody's consternation! That his black horse and his brown horse-fat and lazy as they were, like Walter Brown, you know-would run away, had never entered into the wildest imagination of Mr. Fitzwiggin, who

thrust his head out of one window, while Mrs. Fitzwiggin put hers out of the other, and both shouted, "Stop! stop! stop!" with all their might.

But the brown horse would not stop, and the black horse couldn't.

The coachman holloa'd;

The groom whistled;

The butler groaned;

The footman cried;

The axle creaked;

But all to no purpose.

The black horse and the brown horse

only went the faster; until at length, in turning a corner, one of the carriage-wheels caught against a milestone, or a post, and the axle giving way with a crash, the FAMILY COACH went plump into the dust!

Can you imagine the scene that now took place?

Of course the horses stopped, but the force of the shock flung the footman and the butler out of the rumble, and the coachman and the groom off the box; the former falling head foremost into the hedge, with his legs sticking up in the air, like a couple of double-barrelled guns, so that it was with some difficulty the groom got him righted.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Fitzwiggin shrieked, and Mr. Fitzwiggin shouted.

But the footman ran to their aid, let down the steps, and safely extricated his master and mistress; while the butler picked up the whip and reins, and stood by the horses' heads.

As soon as all had recovered their senses, they began to examine the amount of mischief done. Happily, it was not very great. The rumble was injured slightly, and so was the box, while the axle was snapped in two. The coachman's hat was crushed into a jelly; there was a scratch on the butler's red nose; the groom had torn his never mind what; and the footman's white stockings were splashed with mud. The reins were broken, and so was the whip; but neither the black horse nor the brown horse had received any wounds.

So the groom mounted the black horse, and the coachman mounted the brown, and rode back to town to get a cab for Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwiggin, who sat down by the roadside, guarded by the footman and the butler.

[A forfeit for Tom Brown and Frank Martin.]

And here ends the chronicle of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwiggin's adventures in the FAMILY COACH!

Now, let us cry the Forfeits.

EVERYBODY'S SONG.

As this is rather a noisy game, I recommend my young readers before they play it to see if mamma or papa has a headache, and do not wish to be disturbed. We must not pursue our amusements with a complete disregard of the feelings of other The best way to be happy ourselves is to do what we can for the happiness of all around us.

persons.

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