The guard, too! Seventy breezy miles a day were written in his very whiskers. His manners were a canter; his conversation a round trot. He was a fast coach upon a downhill turnpike road;* he was all pace. A waggon couldn’t have moved slowly, with that guard and his key-bugle* on the top of it.
These were all foreshadowings of London, Tom thought, as he sat upon the box, and looked about him. Such a coachman, and such a guard, never could have existed between Salisbury and any other place. The coach was none of your steady-going, yokel coaches, but a swaggering, rakish, dissipated London coach; up all night, and lying by all day, and leading a devil of a life. It cared no more for Salisbury than if it had been a hamlet. It rattled noisily through the best streets, defied the Cathedral, took the worst corners sharpest, went cutting in everywhere, making everything get out of its way, and spun along the open country-road, blowing a lively defiance out of its key-bugle, as its last glad parting legacy.
* In some places, townspeople found that they were paying for wear and tear on their roads caused by vehicles that passed through without stopping to make any contribution to the local economy. Turnpike trusts were set up to collect tolls from these vehicles, and ensure that the cost of repairs was borne by those who did most damage. As travel and business grew in the Industrial Revolution, and railways took on the heavy freight and long-distance passengers, the inequity on which the system was based faded away, and with it the turnpike trusts.
* A key-bugle, also known as a Royal Kent bugle, has six brass keys to enable a wider range of notes than a natural bugle. According to The Royal Albert Memorial Museum & Art Gallery (RAMM) the key-bugle was invented in 1811 (other authorities say 1810) by Joseph Halliday, Bandmaster of the Cavan Militia. Again, the London coach has only the best, even in bugles.