GEORDY DOBSON.
George was part proprietor and driver of a hackney-couch in Edinburgh, when such vehicles were scarce; and one day there comes a gentleman to him whom he knew, and says;—'George, you must drive me and my son here out to a certain place,' that he named, somewhere in the vicinity of Edinburgh.—'Sir,' says George 'I never heard tell of such a place, and I cannot drive you unless you give me very particular directions.'
'It is false,' returned the gentleman, 'there is no man in Scotland who knows the road to that place better than you do. You have never driven on any other road all year life, and I insist on your taking us.'
'Very well, Sir,' says George, 'I'll drive you to hell if you have a mind, only you are to direct me on the road.'
'Mount and drive on then,' said the other, 'and no fear of the road!'
George did so, and never in his life did he see his horses go at such a noble rate; they snorted, they pranced, and they flew on; and as the whole road appeared to lie down hill, he deemed that he should soon come to his journey's end, Still he drove on at the same rate, far far down the hill,—and so fine an open road he never travelled,—till by degrees it grew so dark that he could not see to drive any farther. He called to the gentleman, inquiring what he should do; who
