Roadsters. 227 



dislike it. That eminent lawyer the late Judge Park always rode a grey cob, followed by his 

 groom on another. 



Nothing is more difficult to get together than a number of well-shaped, weight-carrying 

 cobs, with the safe and pleasant action which is the combined result of a large cross of blood 

 and fine symmetry, 



THE COUNTRY HACK, OR ROADSTER. 



The roadster hack of our grandfathers is almost a thing of the past. For want of demand 

 the supply has ceased. The memory of them is contained in many novels, from Fielding's 

 " Joseph Andrews " to G. P. R. James's perpetual " two horsemen." 



" In the shady silence of Mayfair, over a corner public-house, is exhibited a signboard in 

 a more elaborate style of art than is usual in modern public-houses, where the art is generally 

 alive and behind the bar. A sprightly youth, in the costume of the " pampered " of the time 

 of George II., with a long pole in his hand, is stepping away at the rate of some six miles 

 an hour — not fair heel and toe be it understood, but an easy trot. 



" The sign represents an ornamental luxury that died with the last famous or infamous 

 Duke of Queensbury, who figures as Lord March in Thackeray's novel, "The Virginians," and 

 whose later life at his mansion in Piccadilly is told in one of Lord Brougham's volumes of 

 biographical sketches. The running footman, when he was really of any use, ran before and 

 alongside the fat Flemish mares which drew the coaches of the Sir Charles Grandison period, 

 warned innkeepers of the coming illustrious guest, and helped with their long staves the 

 caravan-like vehicle out of the numerous ruts and sloughs that intersected the northern and 

 western roads. Good roads substituted post for the family horses, and killed the profession 

 of running footmen, leaving nothing but the costume and the long staff, which, turned into a 

 gilded cane, is still the symbol of the gorgeous creatures who hang behind Court chariots, the 

 coaches of Lord Mayors, and do ornamental duty in the vestibules of great houses." 



With the decline of the running footman, and, from the same cause — the improvement in 

 posting and stage coaches — began the decay of the famous British hackney or roadster. We 

 may be sure the roads were very bad, and that travelling on wheels was very expensive, 

 when the feeble deformed poet, Alexander Pope, rode to Oxford through Windsor Forest 

 on a horse borrowed of the Earl of Burlington, and met on his road the bookseller 

 Bernhard Lintot, also riding a horse borrowed of his publisher, " what he had of Mr. Oldmixon 

 for a debt." 



Those roadster hacks had qualifications rarely found, because not required in these daj-s 

 of Macadam and iron roads. But the qualities are latent and exist, for they are found in 

 horses of British breed in our Australian colonies, as proved in many an overland cattle- 

 driving expedition, in which the wonderful tales of the endurance of Arab horses have been 

 at least rivalled. 



They were seldom much over 15 hands high. A tall horse is not often so enduring in 

 long days, or so hardy in every way. When the dashing Peninsular general Sir Thomas 

 Picton ordered his infantry chargers for the Spanish campaign, he fixed on 15 hands as the 

 proper height. These roadsters were strong, for they had to carry, besides the horseman in 

 his heavy jack-boots, leather breeches, and broad-skirted coat, a horseman's cloak, saddle-bags, 

 and holster pistols. They were tolerably swift, for the rider might have to owe his safety to 

 his nag's pace. They had good shoulders and plenty before the pommel, capital legs and feet, 

 and action more sure than showy, neither daisy trot, yet with the knee-action which is essential 



