THE LIFE OF A SPOllTSMAX 



' I like being on the box very niiieli,' replied Frank, ' but how 

 it shakes ! ' 



' Ay, master,' said the old coachman, ' it does that, sure enough, . 

 'specially with one who ain't used to it ; they do say, they are 

 going to put the boxes of all stage-coaches on springs, but 

 Heaven knows when that will be — not in my time, I fear. Our 

 people say it won't do, that we shall go to sleep upon them ; but 

 there's no danger of a man doing that now, even if he should 

 be a bit overtaken with drink. But, Master Francis, there is 

 a great deal of hart in sitting on a coach-box, as well as in 

 driving four horses. Your body must go with the swing of the 

 box, and let your lines (loins) be as lissom as you can. It would 

 kill a man, in a week, to drive as far as I do, over such a road 

 as this, if he did not do as I say.' 



' You have got good horses in the coach, Wilkins,' observed 

 Frank. 



' Good creatures in natur', sir,' was that worthy's reply, ' l^ut 

 they haven't no chance. This here sixteen miles of ground and 

 only one rest-horse, kills them. To be sure, master grubs them 

 well, or they'd been dead years ago/ 



* Years ago ! why, how old are they ? ' 



' Why, I was going to say, you must ask my father that 

 question. Howsomever, I have drove three of the four, nine 

 years, and t' other came to this coach from the " Express," the 

 first year I drove it : I think he must be quite twenty.' 



' But how fat he is ! ' 



' Always the case with groggy ones,' observed Mr. Wilkins ; 

 ' as soon as they have filled their bellies, they are down on their 

 bed, because they are in pain when they stand up. A foundered 

 coach-horse, like a gouty alderman, is always fat. But this 

 near wheeler is my favourite (giving him, at the moment, three 

 tremendous stripes, with his double thong, over his back, and 

 two over his ears, followed by a sort of rolling noise in his 

 throat, resembling that made by gargling for a sore one) ; you'll 

 see how he'll hug his collar going up Brampton-hill, at the end 

 of this stage. He's half a team himself, but still he's an awk- 

 ward chap to drive. There's some difference, sir, I can assure 

 you, between driving well-bitted friisli horses, like your papa's, 

 and such dead-alive bow-kickers as these are, all as sliifty as a 

 lawyer : in fact, this off-wheeler is a lawyer all over, for he'll 

 not work at all, if he is not devilish well paid for it ; and I keep 



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