342 ANNALS OF THE ROAD. 



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ing. I undertook to take his coach a journey for him ; 

 but, although I knew it well, I had never driven the 

 road. ' That middle twelve miles of ground,' said he, ' is 

 a punisher, and you must mind what you are at with this 

 load. You have two hills to go down and three to go 

 up in the first seven miles. Don't stop to put the chain 

 on, as they'll hold well, and the tackle is good ; and don't 

 let them walk up the hills, for they are bad hands at that: 

 you will lose a horse's draught by it, and perhaps get 

 hung up on one of them. You must take fifty minutes 

 to do the first seven miles, and good work too. When 

 you get to the top of the last hill, get down and put 

 your near leader to the cheek, and they'll toddle you over 

 the last five miles in half an hour with all the pleasure 

 alive.' 



Speaking to coach horses from the box is now con- 

 sidered slow, but it is not without its effect. I can 

 produce rather a curious instance. A certain coach 

 proprietor who horsed one of our mails had his horses 

 reported to the Post Office as being unable to keep time. 

 He was determined not to take them off the ground, so 

 sent for a coachman for the purpose of driving them. 

 Having been told that they had had their share of whip- 

 cord, the artist (and such he surely was) tried the follow- 

 ing expedient. About an hour before his time to go out 

 with his coach, he went into the stable where his horses 

 stood, and seizing a besom, he disengaged the handle o( 

 it. With this he belaboured each horse for at least five 

 minutes — speaking to him in a certain rough language at 

 the same time. Suffice it to say, these horses never lost 



