BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT 



were all heavy down to very recent times — bore some analogy 

 with the prize-fighter, for he stood highest who could hit hardest. 

 He was generally a man of large frame, made larger by in- 

 dulgence, and of great bodily power — which was useful to him. 

 To the button-hole of his coat were appended several whip- 

 cord points, which he was sure to have occasion for on the 

 road, for his horses were whipped till whipping was as neces- 

 sary to them as their harness. In fair play to him, however, 

 he was not solely answerable for this : the spirit of his cattle 

 was broken by the task they were called to perform — for in 

 those days twenty-mile stages were in fashion — and what was 

 the consequence ? Why, the four-horse whip and the Notting- 

 ham whipcord were of no avail over the latter part of the 

 ground, and something like a cat-o'-nine-tails was produced 

 out of the boot, which was jocularly called " the apprentice " ; 

 and a shrewd apprentice it was to the art of torturing which 

 was inflicted on the wheelers without stint or measure, but 

 without which the coach might have been often left on the 

 road. One circumstance alone saved these horses from de- 

 struction ; this was the frequency of ale-houses on the road, 

 not one of which could then be passed without a call. 



' Still, our old-fashioned coachman was a scientific man in 

 his calling — more so, perhaps, than by far the greater part of 

 his brethren of the present day, inasmuch as his energies and 

 skill were more frequently put to the test. He had heavy 

 loads, bad roads, and weary horses to deal with, neither was 

 any part of his harness to be depended on, upon a pinch. 

 Then the box he sat upon was worse than Pandora's, M'ith all 

 the evils it contained, for even hope appeared to have deserted 

 it. It rested on the bed of the axletree, and shook the frame 

 to atoms ; but when prayers were put up to have it altered, 

 the proprietors said, " No ; the rascal will always be asleep 

 if we place his box on the springs." If among all these diffi- 

 culties, then, he, by degrees, became a drunkard, who can 

 wonder at his becoming so ? But he was a coachman. He 

 could fetch the last ounce out of a wheel-horse by the use of 



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