As they walked, taking an occasional post-chaise, Sir Principle MacFarlane indulged in his usual raillery against the gods who never seemed to be on his side: "where's our Guardian Angel when we need him, eh?" and his companion, Darcus Doubleday fretted that they would be too late to find the Earl of Minto's shipping agent who had managed the slave cargoes carried to America from Africa's Gold Coast in The Hesperus: "this is a eejit's errand," he groaned, stopping to remove another bit of grit from his shoe; and MacFarlane likewise stopped: "you've become rather hobbesian today, Darcus; not thinking of another Revolution. are you? remember what happened last time? certainly I do! which is the other reason for the proboscide in the MacFarlane coat-of-arms! oh, ho ho, I fairly pulled the wool over the Lord Lyon, King of Arms that time! ha ha ha!" and even Doubleday, rubbing his sore foot couldn't help laughing: "aye mon, bit thon wis a bonny picture, he didna ken whit wey tae look at it, up or doon, an his face gettin reeder an reeder aw the time! ain wey it lookit like a elephant's trunk, which wis whit it wis supposed tae be, an tither wey it wis a richt michty phallus, erect an ready tae ram! ha ha ha, whit a merry thocht!" and they were so busy laughing the didn't notice the carriage and three-pair approaching, until it drew up beside them and a voice from inside called out: "wud yese like a lift, gentleman?" and they both recognised it but were quite unable to place it until the door opened and they had climbed up and into the comfortable interior, when they both at once saw who their rescuer was!