This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 edition. Excerpt: ...a well turned-out coach causes! with its rattling splinter-bars and jangling pole-chains; it compels even the attention of the cloyed and satiated, the hopelessly blast. As we bowled along the Fulham Road yesterday morning, the short, sharp, occasional " Tummy-da, tummy-da," of the horn brought even Tottie to ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 edition. Excerpt: ...a well turned-out coach causes! with its rattling splinter-bars and jangling pole-chains; it compels even the attention of the cloyed and satiated, the hopelessly blast. As we bowled along the Fulham Road yesterday morning, the short, sharp, occasional " Tummy-da, tummy-da," of the horn brought even Tottie to her window, in a new pink satin dressing-gown, eating buttered toast with unwashed fingers, and caused even Dolly to pause in the middle of mixing herself a very dark-complexioned brandy F and-soda--no mulatto, but a "regular nigger "--to look out and leer at our men and turn up her nose at our women. There exists only one great drawback to coaching for the woman who is not fortunate enough to be able to reckon herself one of smart society's real dtegantes; there is the dreadful, ever-present apprehension of an accident occurring. The constant fear of a smash-up, the dread of the shame and mortification of being undressed, whilst unconscious, by a lot of doctors, some of whom may know enough about the articles of the intime toilette to recognise that one's foulard, or percale, or such things are distinctly not of the dernier cri, must far outweigh all the pleasure and excitement to be derived from road-coaching, I think. As for Epsom itself, why, frankly, dear, I did not care much for it. Epsom is too levelling. One becomes associated with persons well dressed enough to be patricians, but whose conversation discovers them to be the scum of the proletariate. For instance, Charlie was introduced to a certain "Captain" (for I have doubts about his commission) Splorger, who, doubtless with the best intent, tried hard to make me back a winner. I had never set eyes on the crude, boorish creature before he was brought...
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