to relieve Hobson's poor customers from the
terrible fate which is fastened upon them?
Government Blue Books say, by patent soups
to be given to them when they grow up; by
snug prisons, warmed by ingenious processes;
by dexterous oakum-picking, and other devices
of this order. Other men have said that it is
better to throw a guard about the baby's
cradle than to sing a psalm at a bad man's
deathbed; better to have a care while the
bud is bursting to the sun, than when the
heat has scorched the heart of the unguarded
blossom. While these rival authorities are
wrangling, Hobson's customers continue to
break their necks with his faulty horseflesh.
A mild philosopher dandles a baby customer
in his arms, and serenely tests the purity of
its pap-boat; while his rival theorist wields a
policeman's truncheon, and dips a thermometer
carefully into his pet felon's warm-bath.

The shade of Hobson who never gave a
choice— of Hobson whose nearest horses have
always been knackers for a large body of
customers—laughs roguishly at these contending
philosophers while they ride their hobbies,
and sees his victims, in crowds, scrambling on
their broken steeds, and sprawling inevitably
in the mud. Well, let us hope that we shall
do something for Hobson's customers ere
long; and not continue to plant poor devils
upon vicious horses for the pleasure of paying
their doctor's bill!

THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN.

TRAVELLING SERVANTS.

I THINK a travelling party ought to be
limited to three, with a good courier, and a
good-tempered lady's maid, if there be a lady.
This will just fill a carriage, and for so many,
no more, rooms may generally be found at
the same inn. Of course, in saying this, I am
not speaking of the immense barrack-like
hotels of Germany, which are large enough
to lodge an army. But I have known— in
Spain, and some other places—a numerous
party very uncomfortably divided, and even
some of those who formed it obliged to go on
another stage for want of a place to sleep in.
In all parties, one of the number ought to be
appointed captain or general director, by
which arrangement the expenses of all will
be diminished at least a third. I do not
think that the management of the purse need
form an essential part of a courier's duties,
and, indeed, when I understand the language
and manners of a country, I like to do this
part of the business myself. It certainly
saves, however, a good deal of trouble, and
often ill-blood enough to spoil a day, if you
walk quietly away from your hotel of a morning,
and leave your courier to settle everything,
and follow with the carriage and
luggage. The struggle is between ease and
economy, and the victory must be determined
by your purse; one thing is certain, that if
you allow your courier to be paymaster, he
will receive certain fixed and regular perquisites
to him belonging in that capacity, and
which have filled the pockets of those who
handle other people's money, from time
immemorial. He may also get your bills (what
is I think called) salted, besides; that is, an
addition made to the usual price of things
for his especial benefit, and varying according
to his knowledge of your ignorance of the
country and the strength of your purse.

I would rather have a good travelling
servant—a valet, for instance, who had lived
with me for some time, who expected to
remain with me, and in whom I could place
confidence—than any professed courier. The
courier proper is too independent and
important a personage for anybody but a
Brummagem lord, with the guineas of half Lombard
Street in his pocket, and their ponderous
consequence in his noddle. I have seen my
friend, the professional courier, who may be
called the free-lance among servants, treat
those he was pleased to look upon as inferior
people with great contempt. Worse, too, if
the party he was conducting arrived at an
out-of-the-way place, where good things were
scanty, he would take the best, even to the
longest and widest bed—an immense advantage
in foreign inns—and his employers of
course, fared upon what escaped the lion's
share. There is another important difference
also; your regular courier will ask at least
ten pounds a month, which he takes very good
care to convert by devices to him familiar
into twenty, while your travelling servant,
even the very best, will feel himself happy
indeed with less than half. The best rnen-
servants on the continent seldom, if ever, get
more than from three to five pounds a month,
finding themselves both in food and clothes
when stationary, though you cannot, of course,
expect them to do this while travelling. A
friend of mine, indeed, residing at Vienna, had
a smart Hungarian, costume, moustache, and
all, a Baron too besides, for one pound
sterling a month! He opened the door with
a sort of flourish that quite took a visitor's
breath away, and if he had not had an
unfortunate propensity for indulgence in strong
waters (when he was rather dangerous
company), he would have been quite a grand
addition to any household.

If it was not for their plaguey nobility,
which makes them impudent and untrustworthy
in their cups, Hungarians would make
excellent servants. They are brave, strong,
gay, good-natured, they laugh at fatigue, can
live on anything, and will grow as attached
as Irishmen to those they live with. I had
an excellent fellow once from Presburg,
and we lived for a long time in great
harmony. I was as proud of him as ever
Sterne could have been of La Fleur, for he
was one of the handsomest, smartest, and
best-tempered men possible. He could do
everything— from varnishing a boot (he took