COACHING IN THE NORTH OF ENGLAND. 69 



was kind enough to amuse me with some hair-breadth 

 escapes he had experienced when on one of those gallop- 

 ing - opposition coaches, which more than once went from 

 Leeds to London, one hundred and ninety-six miles, in 

 sixteen hours. But I soon lamented having introduced 

 the subject. I accidentally told him he must be a pro- 

 ficient on the bench, or he would not have been put on 

 so fast a coach ; and this was near being our death- 

 warrant. To give me a specimen of his art, he sprung 

 his horses into a gallop, on some falling ground, and 

 in a clumsy attempt to pull them up by the leg he got 

 his reins clubbed, and I thought nothing could have 

 saved us. I shammed sick and got into the coach. But 

 the novelty of the scene did not end here. When we 

 came to Tadcaster, only ten miles from York, the door 

 of the coach was opened, and " Please to remember the 

 coachman" tingled in the ears of the passengers. "What 

 now," said I, " are you going no farther?" " No sir, but 

 ah's (Yorkshire for ' I ') goes back at night," was the 

 Yorkshireman's answer. " Then you follow some trade 

 here, of course ?" continued I. " No, sir," said a bystander, 

 il ke has got his horses to clean." "Oh, that's the way your 

 Yorkshire coaching is done, is it?" said I to my communi- 

 cative friend on the pavement. I then saw my fellow 

 passengers pull out sixpence each and give it to John, 

 who was not only satisfied, but thankful. "What am I 

 to do?" said I to myself, "I never gave a coachman six- 

 pence yet, and I shall not begin that game to-day." So 

 I chucked him a bob, which brought his hat down to the 

 box of the fore-wheel. 



