"Now, boys, half a sovereign apiece if you beat 'em into Dunchurch by one hundred yards." "All right, sir," shouted the grinning postboys.
Down comes Robinson's coach in a minute or two, with a rival cornopean, and away go the two vehicles, horses galloping, boys cheering, horns playing loud.

There is a special providence over school-boys as well as sailors, or they must have upset twenty times in the first five miles--sometimes actually abreast of one another, and the boys on the roofs exchanging volleys of peas; now nearly running over a post-chaise which had started before them; now half-way up a bank; now with a wheel and a half over a yawning ditch: and all this in a dark morning, with nothing but their own lamps to guide them.

However, it's all over at last, and they have run over nothing but an old pig in Southam Street.
The last peas are distributed in the Corn Market at Oxford, where they arrive between eleven and twelve, and sit down to a sumptuous breakfast at the Angel, which they are made to pay for accordingly.

Here the party breaks up, all going now different ways; and Tom orders out a chaise and pair as grand as a lord, though he has scarcely five shillings left in his pocket, and more than twenty miles to get home.
"Where to, sir ?" "Red Lion, Farringdon," says Tom, giving hostler a shilling.
"All right, sir .-- Red Lion, Jem," to the postboy; and Tom rattles away towards home.

At Farringdon, being known to the innkeeper, he gets that worthy to pay for the Oxford horses, and forward him in another chaise at once; and so the gorgeous young gentleman arrives at the paternal mansion, and Squire Brown looks rather blue at having to pay two pound ten shillings for the posting expenses from Oxford.