132 OLD COACHING DAYS 



was to take her out and send her on by a 

 yokel, and finally I drove up to the Dungeon 

 Ghyll Hotel with a pIck-axe team. But 

 even this was not all. All we could borrow 

 to replace the broken bar was a plough one, 

 of course, without spring-catch. The open- 

 ing of this was secured with stout string ; 

 and so we started for home. Going down a 

 celebrated nasty hill, the name of which I 

 forget, the hook came out, and clown 

 dropped the bars right under the wheelers' 

 feet. Bell was fortunately driving, and 

 completed the descent without stopping, 

 keeping his leaders away in the most 

 wonderful manner. This was our last 

 accident that day. 



My experience of the road coaches was 

 more limited. As far as I can recollect, 

 there were originally three, all annual and 



