THE ROAD. 



A FIRST STAGE BY SEA. 



If you would enjoy a trip by road — I don't mean with 

 tandem or with the high-flight coach, but with the humble cart 

 or phaeton — you want no groom stuck by your side or perched 

 behind. You should " run the whole outfit " yourself ; be, in 

 fact, " the cook and the captain bold and the mate of the Nancy 

 Bell," and be prepared to look after things yourself. To do this 

 you must start, of course, by being a practical stableman. 

 Further, you must keep your temper (is there any position in 

 life wherein that difficult feat is not desirable ?), carry the prin- 

 ciple of suaviter in modo to a degree nearly approaching sys- 

 tematic blarney, and that of fortiter in re to a pitch that 

 includes the insisting that every pig-headed, half-drunk, or 

 wholly inefficient ostler shall carry out to the letter your orders 

 as to grooming, feeding, and watering. It is a meek, or, at 

 least, well-controlled, spirit that can put up with each one of 

 these gentry in turn treating as wanton impertinence your 

 intrusion into the mysteries of horse treatment. Horse-skimp- 

 ing would be a better term for the neglect that, at their experi- 

 enced and unprincipled hands, attains almost to a fine art. To 

 fly out is often justifiable, is occasionally even advisable ; in 

 fact, if a careful horse-owner did not " loose off" now and then, 

 I can see no alternative but that he must burst or give up his 

 self-imposed task altogether. Standing over these gentlemen 

 while they grudgingly perform as much of their duties as they 

 are obliged I take to be the chief drawback of a road trip. It 

 would be far easier, far more agreeable, and, probably, no less 



