In driving four-in-hand, it is not every man who knows when a coach-horse is at work, as a horse may keep a tight trace, and yet be doing little. There is, however, an increased tension of the horse’s frame when taking weight with him, which is the surest test, and which never escapes a quick and experienced eye. As already observed, those called lobbing-goers take greater weight with them than horses of finer action, provided they are equally close workers. Heavy draught shortens the stride of horses, after they have been a few years at work.

THE TIME.

In short distances, to know precisely at what time it is necessary to start, to arrive at any place at a certain hour, the driver has only to ascertain the distance, and to regulate the pace by the following table:—

In the streets of London, ten minutes at least, in every hour, must be allowed for stoppages.

THE WHIP.

“We are too apt,” said the late Lord Erskine, “to consider animals under the domination of man in no view but that of property. We should never forget that the animal over which we exercise our power has all the organs which render it susceptible of pleasure and pain. It sees, it hears, it smells, it tastes, it feels with acuteness. How mercifully, then, ought we to exercise the dominion intrusted to our care!”

Speaking to coach-horses from the box is now considered slow, but it is not without its effect. Whipping, however, is sometimes indispensable. The manufacture of four-horse whips has arrived at great perfection, and affords employment to many hundred hands.

Refined management of the whip is not of many years’ birth; and even now there are but few who execute this effectually and with grace. There are as many ways of whipping coach-horses, says a clever writer in the Sporting Magazine, as there are horses in the coach; and, as there is a right and a wrong way of doing most things, a young beginner may observe the following directions, beginning with the wheel-horses:—

Before a coachman hits a wheel-horse, he should twist his thong three times round the crop of his whip, holding the crop at that moment somewhat horizontally, by which means the thong will twist towards the thin end of the crop, when the thong, being doubled, will not exceed the length of a pair-horse thong, and in some measure resemble it. Being double renders it of course more severe, as it falls more heavily on the horse; and by the two ends of the thong not being spread, but close together at the time of the blow, it falls with increased force.

When the off-side wheeler is struck, the coachman’s right arm should be put out from his body in the same position in which he presents it to his tailor to measure him for a coat, but the blow should proceed entirely from the wrist. The part on which the horse should be struck is about four inches behind his false belly-band, or somewhere near the short rib on his right side. The stinging part of the blow is then felt under the belly; and, unless he is quite beaten, or of a sulky and bad disposition, he seldom fails to answer it. If he do not answer it here, he must be struck before the belly-band, when the blow falls just behind the fore-arm, on a part on which the skin is very thin. In hitting a near-wheeler, the coachman brings his right hand exactly opposite to his face, and, turning the crop three times around, as before directed, he lets the thong fall sharply across the horse’s loins three times in succession, if he do not answer sooner,—observing that, after the third blow, he draws the thong obliquely across the horse’s back, by which means his arm returns to a state of rest, and the crop falls gently across his reins, just about his left hand, the crop pointing a little upwards to prevent the thong getting under or touching the near wheel-horse’s tail. Should the latter be the case, if the driver lower his crop, the thong will almost always get released; but should it not, he must let the thong loose, and draw it out from the point. When it comes up from the tail, let the coachman throw back his crop a little to his right hand, and the point of the thong will fall across his fingers, when he catches it, and puts it back into his hand. It must be observed, that, in striking the near wheel horse, the wrist only, as in sword exercise, is at work: the body must be quite at rest; and, after the whip is brought to bear, the arm must be quiet also, until the third blow is struck.

There is only one other method of hitting a wheel-horse, which is called pointing him. This is done by hitting him with the point of the thong, when loose, just behind his shoulders, but it is not considered neat execution. If there should be a free leader before the bars it causes him to fret, and is only to be had recourse to in emergencies—as, for instance, in turning round a corner, or into a gateway, when a leader is to be hit, and before the coachman can recover his thong a wheel-horse requires whipping also.

If a wheel-horse show symptoms of vice, as a disposition to kick, &c., or, in short, if he refuse to answer either of the other calls upon his exertions, a blow with the double thong on his ears generally brings him to his senses. Without great necessity, however, it is very reprehensible to strike a coach-horse over the ears, the parts being very sensible.

It is generally supposed it is in whipping a leader that neatness of execution is more especially displayed. It is, however, quite a mistake to suppose that it is in the power of a coachman to punish a leader with the single, as he can a wheel-horse with the double thong. No doubt, however, the blow from the loose thong falls very sharp, as it falls on a tender part—the inside of the thigh.

As the off-leader presents himself more fully to the right hand of the coachman than his partner does, the horse that is the less free of the two is generally put on that side. There are but two ways of hitting an off-leader: one, by letting the thong fall gently over his neck, or just behind his pad, when his driver merely wishes to refresh his memory, and let him know that he has a whip in his hand; and the other, when he wants to hit him sharply, by striking him with the point of the thong just under his bar. The hard hitters of the old school never conceived they had done the latter effectually, unless they struck their horse twice at least, if not three times, the last stroke always ending in a draw.

As this word “draw” is peculiar to the road, it must be explained to such as may not exactly comprehend it. Suppose a coachman to hit his off-leader three times. The first two blows are given, as it were, under-handed—that is to say, the hand is lowered so as to admit of the thong going under the bar the first two strokes. When the third or last is given, the point of the elbow is thrown outwards, so as to incline the thong inwards, which brings it up to the coachman’s hand after the stroke, it generally falling across his breast, which would not be the case were it not for the draw. Another advantage also attends the draw: a thong so thrown very seldom hangs in the bars, and nothing is more uncoachman-like than to hit a leader above his bar. A horse’s mouth should always be felt before his coachman hits him.

Hitting the near leader with neatness and effect is the most difficult part of the use of the whip. There are two ways of doing it: one, by two common strokes and the draw; and the other by a sort of back-handed stroke, which is a very neat one, and sufficiently severe, but it does not bring the thong so immediately up to the coachman’s hand as the drawn stroke does. In the back-handed stroke, the wrist describes an exact figure of eight, and the arm cannot be kept, as before, quite still. In the other method of hitting, the coachman’s arm is brought about opposite his chin, the first two blows proceeding from the wrist alone; but in the third, or the draw, the hand descends, the elbow is thrown outwards, and by two jerks of the arm, which it is difficult to describe on paper, the draw is effected, and the thong comes, as before stated, across the coachman’s breast, so as to enable him to catch it instantly.

There is one other way of hitting a leader; and that is, by what is called the chop. This is done by throwing out the right arm rather forward, and with it, of course, the thong, and then bringing it back sharply with the wrist inclined downwards. The thong falls severely on the horse’s thigh, and comes up to the hand again, as in the draw. This is a very useful blow in a narrow confined place, or when it is necessary to lose no time before a leader is hit; and, when neatly done, has a very workman-like appearance. This blow generally falls above the bar, particularly if a horse is not at work at the time.

It has been said that leaders should always be hit under their bar. This, however, cannot always be done; for if a horse hang back from his collar, his bar is so low that it may be difficult to get under it. In this case, however, the blow is made to tell smartly, as it is in the coachman’s power to throw his whip into the flank, which is a very sensible part. When a leader is well up to his collar, he always can, and always should, be hit under his bar.

Should the point of the thong catch, or, as they say on the road, “get hanged,” in the bars or the pole-pieces—neither of which it will do when properly drawn after the last stroke, as the inclination of the hand in the act of drawing enables it to clear them—no violence should be used to loosen it, or a broken crop will be the consequence. On the contrary, the arm should be thrown forward, and the thong lightly moved, when in a minute or two it will shake out. If it be fast between the eye of the main bar and the pole-hook, the leaders should be eased a little, and it will get released. Sometimes, however, on a wet day, a thong will lap round some of these things so fast as to make it necessary for the guard or some person to get down to untie it. This is technically called having a bite. The double thong will also sometimes hitch in the ends of the wheelers’ traces, as also in the point of the false belly-band. To obviate this, in gentlemen’s harness, these parts are always covered, or piped, as it is called.

A free leader should not be hit in a short turn, or he may break his bar, perhaps the pole-hook, or even the main-bar. Neither should leaders be hit in going over a small bridge which is much raised, or when the pole points upwards, as their draught on the end of it may snap it in the futchels. Some drivers perpetually whip or fan their horses, which first irritates and afterwards injures them, by rendering them insensible to the proper aids or correction. It must be observed that the whip should never be used but in case of necessity. Indeed, one of the best proofs of a good coachman is to see his right arm still; and although, for the safety of his coach, he ought to be able to punish a horse when he requires punishment, yet he should, on all accounts, be as sparing of it as he can. Horses may be whipped till they become callous to whipping, and therefore slow. In the condition in which coach-horses are now kept, a pound of Nottingham whipcord will last a good coachman his lifetime. The very act of throwing the point of the thong over the leaders’ heads, or letting it fall on their backs, as a fisherman throws his fly upon the stream, will set half the coach-horses in England, in these days, into a gallop.

THOROUGHFARES, PASSING, &c.

The driver should avoid passing through the great thoroughfares, and prefer the widest of the less frequented streets which run parallel to them. In London, he should never go into the City through the Strand, Fleet-street, and Cheapside, between twelve and five o’clock, if he can possibly avoid it, as these streets are then crowded with every kind of vehicle. He should also avoid going into the City about mid-day, on Mondays and Fridays, on account of the droves of oxen passing through the principal streets.

The middle of the road is safest, especially for a loaded coach, except under peculiar circumstances.

In driving four horses, to keep them well in hand is a most material point, both as regards their work and for the safety of the coach. The track made by a coach in descending a hill shows whether the horses are properly held together or not. Accidents from horses taking fright, and bolting across the road, happen only to clumsy fellows, of whom the list is considerable. The rules for passing and meeting carriages on the road have already been given, yet there are times when they need not be strictly adhered to, and a little accommodation becomes expedient. Thus, if one coachman has the hill in his favour—that is, if he be going down, and a loaded coach be coming up at the same time—he who is descending, if he can do it with safety, ought to give the hardest side of the road to the other coachman.

As to narrow spaces, it is evident that where the bars can go the coach can go, as they are wider than the wheels; and consequently, if they are cleared, all is safe. The swing-bar is an excellent invention, as a horse works in it from either shoulder, and therefore quite at his ease. A sharp and experienced driver may calculate exactly the space sufficient to pass between two bodies at rest, and may therefore pass with confidence and at ease. As, however, in streets, he must meet many carriages driven by inexperienced or intoxicated fellows, who do not for a moment move in any direct line, he should allow them ample room, and proceed with the utmost caution. A driver must be incessantly on the look-out, must watch every vehicle that approaches, and give it more room than it may seem to require.

ASCENDING AND DESCENDING.

In going up hill, it is in general best to trot up at first, and to walk afterwards. In going down hill, it is best to keep the wheelers tight in hand, to let the leaders just clear the bars, and to come gently down. In the latter case, a turn of the reins of the wheel-horses may be made round the little finger. (Plate XLIV. fig. 4.)

Although, however, it may be necessary to catch up wheel-horses, and make them hold back their coach down hill, there is nothing in which a light finger is more essential to safety. The manner in which some persons haul at horses’ mouths, when descending with a load, considerably adds to the difficulty, by trying the strength of the tackle. But this is not all: these persons should be aware that all this force employed on their horses’ mouths is so much added to the pressure of the coach; in proportion to it is that pressure increased. The horses are then drawing by their heads!

The objections to a locked wheel, with a top-heavy load, have already been stated. If, however, with a heavy load, and upon a smooth hard road, a wheel must be locked, it should be that next a ditch, or other dangerous part. In going down hill, a coach always strikes on the side on which the wheel is not locked. The coachman should therefore keep as much as possible on that side of the road on which the wheel is locked: by crossing the road, if he meet or have to pass any thing, the coach will not strike; and by holding that way, at any time, it will prevent overturning. The coach naturally strikes in a direct line from the perch-bolt.

The generality of passengers know not the danger of galloping a coach, with three tons’ weight in and out, down hill, at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an hour, with no wheel locked, the whole resistance of the wheel-horses depending on a small leather strap and buckle at the top of the hames,—these coachmen deeming it beneath their dignity to drive with breechings. Even thus, however, accidents would be much less frequent if coachmen took the precaution of pulling up their horses short, when on the point of descending. In night-work, this is doubly useful, because it often happens that a pole-chain is unhooked, or a hame-strap gets loose, without being discernible by lamp or moonlight.

“With wheel-horses that will hold back at all, I will be bound,” says a clever writer and experienced coachman, “to take a loaded coach down most of the hills now met with on our great roads, without a drag-chain, provided I am allowed to pull up my horses at the top, and let them take it quietly the first hundred yards. This, it may be said, would be losing time, but, on the contrary, time would be gained by it; for, as soon as I perceived I was master of my coach, I should let her go, and by letting my horses loose at the bottom, I could spring them into a gallop, and cheat them out of half the hill, if there were one (as frequently happens) on the next portion of road. This advantage, it must be recollected, cannot be taken if the chain be to be put on; and I have therefore in my favour all the time required to put the chain on, and to take it off again.”

There are, however, some horses which no man can make to hold a loaded coach down hill. Of this description are, first, the stiff-necked one, as he is called, who turns his head away from his partner, and shoulders the pole; and, secondly, one who, when he feels the weight pressing upon him, begins to canter and jump, as coachmen term it; with these holding back properly is out of the question. With such cattle, the drag-chain must be had recourse to; as well as when there is the least reason to suspect the soundness of the harness. All this confirms the necessity of checking the force of a coach before descending a steep hill, and indeed in some cases—as with bad holders—before coming upon a slight descent. The term which coachmen have for this species of road, is “pushing ground;” and if the fall be long, it is astonishing how the pressure of a loaded coach upon wheel horses is increased before getting to the bottom of it, and how difficult it would be, with wheelers not of the very best stamp, to pull up short, if any accident should happen.

Young coachmen, in descending a hill, should take care that their leaders do not draw on the end of the pole, which many free ones do when they find the coach coming quickly after them; for this not only increases the pressure of the coach on the wheelers, but, should either of them stumble, it must assist in bringing him down. The following good and characteristic directions were given by a very experienced coachman, to a gentleman who undertook to take his coach a journey for him, but who, although he knew the road well, had never driven on it before. “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 at 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.”

The following observations on this subject from the number of the Quarterly Review already quoted, are too interesting to be omitted here.

“Many years have elapsed,” he says, “since I first observed that, somehow or other, the horses on the continent manage to pull a heavy carriage up a steep hill, or even along a dead level, with greater ease to themselves than our English horses. If any unprejudiced person would only attentively remark with what little apparent fatigue three small ill-conditioned horses will draw, not only his own carriage, but very often that huge over-grown vehicle the French diligence, or the German eilwagen, I think he would agree with me; but the whole equipment is so unsightly—the rope harness is so rude—the horses without blinkers look so wild—there is so much bluster with the postilion—that, far from paying any compliment to the turn-out, one is very much disposed at once to condemn the whole thing, and, not caring a straw whether such horses be fatigued or not, to make no other remark than that in England one would have travelled at nearly twice the rate with one-tenth of the noise. But neither the rate nor the noise is the point—our superiority in the former, and our inferiority in the latter, cannot be doubted. The thing to account for is, how such small, weak horses do actually manage to draw a heavy carriage up hill with so much ease to themselves. Now, in English, French, and German harness, there exists, as it were, three degrees of comparison as to the manner in which the head of the horse is treated; for, in England, it is elevated, or borne up, by what we call the bearing-rein,—in France it is left as Nature placed it (there being to common French harness no bearing-rein),—and, in Germany, the head is tied down to the lower extremity of the collar, or else the collar is so made that the animal is by it deprived of the power of raising his head. Now, passing over for a moment the French method, which is, in fact, the state of nature, let us for a moment consider which is better—to bear a horse’s head up, as in England, or to pull it downwards, as in Germany.”

Evidently fired with a favourite theme, he thus proceeds:—“In a state of nature, the wild horse, as every body knows (?), has two distinct gaits or attitudes. If man, or any still wilder beast, come suddenly upon him, up goes his head; and as he first stalks and then trots gently away—with ears erect, snorting with his nose, and proudly snuffing up the air, as if exulting in his freedom—as one fore-leg darts before the other, we have before us a picture of doubt, astonishment, and hesitation, all of which feelings seem to rein him, like a troop-horse, on his haunches; but, attempt to pursue him, and the moment he defies you—the moment, determining to escape, he shakes his head, and lays himself to his work—how completely does he alter his attitude! That instant down goes his head, and from his ears to the tip of his tail there is in his vertebræ an undulating action which seems to propel him, which works him along, and which, it is evident, you could not deprive him of without materially diminishing his speed. Now, in harness, the horse has naturally the same two gaits or attitudes, and it is quite true that he can start away with a carriage either in the one or the other; but the means by which he succeeds in this effort—the physical powers which he calls into action, are essentially different:—in the one case he works by his muscles, and in the other by his own dead, or rather living, weight. In order to grind corn, if any man were to erect a steam-engine over a fine, strong, running stream, we should all say to him, ‘Why do you not allow your wheel to be turned by cold water instead of hot? Why do you not avail yourself of the weight of the water, instead of expending your capital in converting it into the power of steam? In short, why do you not use the simple resource which Nature has presented ready-made to your hand?’ In the same way, the German might say to us, ‘We acknowledge a horse can drag a carriage by the power of his muscles, but why do you not allow him to drag it by his weight?’

“Let any one observe a pair of English post-horses dragging a heavy weight up a hill, and he will at once see that the poor creatures are working by their muscles, and that it is by sheer strength that the resistance is overcome: but how can it be otherwise; their heads are higher than nature intended them to be, even in walking in a state of liberty, carrying no weight but themselves: the balance of their bodies is therefore absolutely turned against, instead of leaning in favour of their draught; and if my reader will but pass his hands down the back sinews of our stage-coach or post-chaise horses, he will soon feel (though not so keenly as they do), what is the cruel and fatal consequence. It is true, that in ascending a very steep hill an English postilion will occasionally unhook his bearing-reins; but the jaded creatures, trained for years to work in a false attitude, cannot in one moment get themselves into the scientific position which the German horses are habitually encouraged to adopt. Besides this, we are so sharp with our horses,—we keep them so constantly on the qui vive, or, as we term it, in hand, that we are always driving them from the use of their weight to the application of their sinews. That the figure and attitude of a horse working by his sinews are infinitely prouder than when he is working by his weight, (there may exist, however, false pride among horses as well as men), I most readily admit; and therefore, for carriages of luxury, where the weight bears little proportion to the powers of the noble animals employed, I acknowledge that the sinews are more than sufficient; but, to bear up the head of a poor horse at plough, or at any slow, heavy work, is, I conceive, a barbarous error, which ought not to be persisted in.

“Whether there is most of the horse in a German, or of the German in a horse, is a nice point, on which people might argue a great deal: but the broad fact really is, that Germans live on more amicable terms with their horses, and understand their dispositions infinitely better, than the English; in short, they treat them as horses, while we act towards them and drill them as if they were men; and, in case any reader should doubt that Germans are better horse-masters than we are, I beg to remind him of what is perfectly well known to the British army,—namely, that in the Peninsular war the cavalry horses of the German Legion were absolutely fat, while those of our regiments were skin, and bone.”

THE TURNINGS.

These must be regulated by the ground. A good driver avoids all quick and sharp turnings. In town, it is much better to drive on a little further, where another street may allow the ample room requisite in turning. If a carriage do not pass quite across a channel without turning, the perch must be twisted according to the descent, because one wheel falls as that at the opposite angle rises. By such a wrench, especially when going fast, the main or perch bolt is frequently broken, and every part strained.

A loaded coach should never be turned short, even at a slow pace, for the coach is never safe when there is not an even bearing on the transom beds. If turned short, at a quick pace, the higher and looser part of a coach must go over, because all bodies put in motion by one power will proceed in a straight line, unless compelled to change their course by some force impressed. Hence a horse at full speed is with difficulty turned to right or left; and, if he turn suddenly, and of his own accord, he puts his rider’s horsemanship to the test. So with a coach, a sudden turn to one side the road allows the body to swag towards the other, and the centre of gravity is lost.

In a turn, a coachman must point his leaders well, that is, take proper ground for them to make the turn, and let his wheelers follow them. Moreover, as wheel-horses are always in haste to make the turn, the driver must shoot them out on the opposite side, just as he has pointed his leaders. Thus, if the turn be to the right, he must catch up his near wheel rein, and hit his off wheel-horse; and vice versâ. This will keep the head of the pole (which he should have his eye upon) just between the leaders, and the wheelers will follow, as if they were running on a straight road. This will also secure him against danger, by clearing his coach of posts, gutters, &c. No man can make a neat turn with four horses, unless he shoot his wheelers, at the same time that he points his leaders. In turning, the wheelers must rather be kept up, and the leaders be tight in hand, to avoid the corner; for, if the wheelers flag, and the leaders draw, the carriage must be brought against it.

THE RANKS IN TOWN.

These must never be broken, either in driving through crowded streets, or in setting down at crowded places. As to admitting others into the rank, every driver should do as he would be done by.

STOPS.

It is a good plan to use horses to stop by notice, as it may prevent accidents. In pulling up, the driver must pull the reins equally, but rather those of the wheelers first. If this is attended with difficulty, take the wheelers’ reins in the right hand, and pull till they hang well on the breeching, or on the pole chains, thus increasing the leaders’ draught so much that they will easily be pulled up.

When a young coach-horse is stopped, it should be very gradually—allowing at least ten yards to do it in; for, if it be attempted to stop him short, he will resist. A careful driver will never keep his carriage standing in a great thoroughfare; but when obliged to stop in a crowded street, the driver should, if possible, avoid the spot where another carriage is stopping; should choose as much as possible the widest part of the street; and draw up close to the curb.

There is no part of stage-coach economy in which greater alteration has been made than in changing horses. Unless business is to be transacted—as taking fares for passengers, setting down, getting out parcels, &c.—the average with fast coaches is three minutes for each change.

ACCIDENTS, &c. TO HORSES.

A cantering leader, or one that frets, is generally mismanaged by young coachmen. They are apt to pull him back, and endeavour to get him to trot, by the bit, which generally fails, or makes him even worse, by bringing him back on his bar. The right way is to pull him back by his harness; that is, to keep the wheelers back, so that he may feel his collar and bit at the same time.

A horse that kicks ought to be taken very short in his pole-piece, and gagged; and, when he begins to kick, he should be whipped on the ears—a punishment which should never be inflicted but for vice.—Hallooing to a horse when he kicks, has sometimes an effect. A hot leader is sometimes benefited by mopping. An experienced driver says, “I once bought a capital coach-horse for twenty-six pounds, because no one could drive him: and, as he had broken two carriages, he was the terror of the neighbourhood. I mopped him, and could drive him with the greatest safety, either leader or at wheel.”

In the case of a horse falling, a periodical writer, replying to another, states, “In one of his letters on ‘the Road,’ he says, ‘If the coachman be driving with the short wheel rein, and a horse fall beyond recovery, he had better open his hand, and let the reins fall out, than run the risk of being pulled off the box.’ With all due deference to such authority, I cannot subscribe to this, as it frequently happens that a horse falls, is dragged along the ground for a short distance, and recovers himself the moment the coach stops, and then starts off at full gallop, the other horses following his example. Now, if coachee has opened his fist, and let the reins tumble out, and the above occurrence should take place, I would certainly rather be on the top of Cheviot than on the top of the said coach, as the catastrophe would not be very difficult to foretell.”

On many horses, hot weather has a singular effect; and, therefore, it often happens that a good winter horse is an indifferent summer one. Coach-horses are subject to many accidents, of which one is peculiar to them—namely, fracture of the legs in trotting on level ground.[77] Fractures of the foot in draught-horses and others are common; but fractures of the leg in coach-horses when trotting over level ground, are probably caused by over-tension of the limb in the act of drawing. It is said that a coach-horse’s leg is more frequently broken, when, with a heavy load behind him, he snatches at his collar in a turn of the road.

They are also subject to an affection known by the appellation of the lick, which greatly injures their condition. In this state they lick each other’s skins, and gnaw their halters to pieces. This probably proceeds from the state of the stomach, caused by the excitement of high feeding and work. It may be removed by opening or alterative medicines.

They are likewise subject to a kind of vertigo, which on the road is called megrims. This, of which the immediate cause is temporary pressure on the brain, is often brought on by running in the face of a hot sun; and, therefore, horses subject to megrims ought to work at night. The attack appears to come on suddenly, though a snatching motion of the head is sometimes observed to precede it. If not immediately pulled up, the horse thus affected drops. Such horses should have attention paid to the state of their bowels, and have frequent antimonial alteratives. What is called “a megrim horse” is always dangerous, especially near a precipice or ditch, as, when seized, he rolls away from his partner, and, of course, takes him with him.

ACCIDENTS TO COACHES, &c.

A necessary precaution in a gig is—never to sit with the feet under the body, but always to have one, if not both, out before it. “I had a passenger by the side of me,” says the driver who gives this caution, “who was sitting with his feet under his belly, and who was consequently thrown with much violence into the road. I had five miles further to drive him, during which he took care to have his feet before him.”

In stage-coaches, accidents no doubt occur, and no one will assert that the proprietors guard against them to the utmost of their power. The great competition, however, which they have to encounter, is a strong stimulant to their exertions on this score. In some respects, also, the increase of pace has become the traveller’s security: coaches and harness must be of the best quality; horses fresh and sound; coachmen of skill and respectability can alone be employed; and to this increased pace is owing the improvement in these men’s character. They have not time now for drinking, and they come in collision with a class of persons superior to those who formerly were stage-coach passengers, by whose example it has been impossible for them not to profit. A coachman drunk on his box is now a rarity—a coachman quite sober was, but a few years ago, still more so. On the whole, however, travelling by public conveyance was never so secure as it is at the present time. Axle-trees and springs do not often break now; and if proprietors go to the expense, their wheels are made secure against coming off.

The worst accidents, and those which, with the present structure of coaches, can never be entirely provided against, arise from broken axle-trees, and wheels coming off on the road. The guard, therefore, in whose department this lies, ought to examine the axle-tree every time it is fresh greased. He should also remove it once in ten days, put a string through the bolt that receives the linch-pin, and hang it up and cleanse it; and he should then strike it with a hammer, when, if uncracked and sound, it will ring like a bell—the coachman attending to take care that it be again properly screwed on.

Reins also break, though rarely, except in those parts which run through the terrets, the rings of the throat-lash, or in the billets; and attention to these would make all safe, as far as accidents from this cause are concerned.

Accidents happen also from want of attention to the security of the bridles. The throat-lash, therefore—particularly of the wheelers—should be as tight as can be allowed without injuring respiration. There otherwise is always danger of the bridle being pulled off. Accidents, moreover, happen from galloping coach-horses down hill, or on even ground. If, indeed, a casualty then happen, it must be a bad one. The goodness of a road is no preservative against it: on the contrary, it is possible that if a coach begin to swing, it may go over from the very circumstance of the road being so level and so smooth that there is nothing on its surface to hold the wheels to the ground. If, moreover, there be two horses at wheel whose stride in their gallop differs much as to extent, the unequal draught invariably sets the coach rolling, and, unless the pace moderate, the fore-wheel passing over even a small stone, may, under such circumstances, cause the coach to upset. In respect to lateral motion, however, much depends upon the build of the carriage. In galloping coach-horses, if the leaders lead off with two legs, the motion of the coach is considerably truer, and the swing-bars are also much more at rest, than when each horse uses the same leg.

It appears, then, that accidents to coaches are chiefly to be attributed either to the want of proper skill and care in the servants employed, or to what is still less pardonable, inattention on the part of their masters. Road-coachmen, fortunately, are well aware that the law looks sharply after them; and that for neglect proved against them, they are equally answerable to their employers, as these are to the public.

“If I were to go upon the road,” says an amateur, “I would be a night coachman through a well-inhabited country. For six months of the year, it is undoubtedly the pleasanter service; and I never found any difference between taking rest by day or by night.” It is, however, calculated only for a man in the prime of his days, as all his energies are required. The night coachman ought to know his line of road well. He must take rest regularly, or he will be sure to become drowsy, if he do not go to sleep. He must also keep himself sober; keep a tight hand on his horses; keep the middle of the road; and be sure to keep time.

The night coachman must cast his eye well forward, and get out of the way of carts and waggons in time. Although, by looking perpendicularly from his box or at the hedges, if there be any, he may always see if he be in the road, yet if he cannot throw his eye some way before his leaders’ heads, he is going at random. He will often get close to things he may meet in the road before he is aware of them; and therefore, as I have already said, it is essential that he should be wide awake, and have his horses well in hand.

Chains and springs on the bars are good things for night-work, as they prevent the leaders’ traces coming off. A narrow road, sufficiently wide, of course, for carriages to pass with convenience—with no ditch on the side—is much the best for night-work. Unless when the moon is very bright, a dark night is in favour of safe travelling. When it is what coachmen term “a clear dark,” the lamps give much better light than when the darkness approaches to grey. In very wide roads, particularly where there are no hedges to confine them, lamplight is both weak and deceiving; and moonlight is often glimmering and doubtful, particularly when clouds are passing rapidly. Lamplight is treacherous, both in fogs and when horses are going at a moderate pace, with the wind just behind them; for then the steam arising from their bodies follows them, and necessarily obstructs the light. Sometimes, from driven rain or snow, a coachman can scarcely open his eyes so as to see the road to the extent of the light given by the lamps, in which case a tight hand on the horses is especially necessary.

A heavy fog is the only thing which baffles the skill and intrepidity of our night coachmen. In this case, lamps are of no avail as to showing light forward; and, in the worst cases, the only use that can be made of them is for the guard to hold one in his hand behind the coach, by which he will be able to see whether the horses are in the road or not. Lamps, however, are always useful in case of accidents; and, except in very clear moonlight, a night coach should never travel without them.

Accidents often occur from coachmen neglecting to light their lamps in going into a town. It often happens that, when a coach comes down the road in the morning, there may be no obstruction in the streets; but rubbish from buildings, stones, or many other things, may be thrown out by the time it comes up again at night. When an accident happens to a coach, presence of mind is much required. Outside passengers should never think of quitting by jumping, from the fore part, at least, until she falls to the ground. From the box, indeed, a man may get over the roof into the guard’s seat, and thence descend.

Among the various contrivances for dragging wheels, we may mention a very ingenious one by Mr. Rapson. The drag is applied to the nave of the wheel, with a chain attached, which is fastened to the breeching, a small pin on each side going into the bar of the drag. If one of these pins be taken out, the wheel will be dragged, and if both are withdrawn, the wheels are both acted upon during the descent, by the breech bearing against the horse.

In the first of these diagrams we have a representation of the break attached to the wheel, but inoperative, the jointed circle separating the chain, c, and bolt, b, from the nave. In the second figure, the entire frame a, b, c, is seen in direct collision with the nave, and by its friction retarding the locked wheel. This, however, does not occur till the breeching of the harness is drawn tight by the pressure of the carriage upon it.

OBSTRUCTIONS, OFFENCES, AND INJURIES.

By the 1st Geo. I. c. 57, drivers of hackney coaches are to give way to gentlemen’s carriages, under a penalty of 10s.

If a carriage be obstructed by disorderly persons, the driver should take out his pocket-book, and let the persons guilty of this see that he is taking a note of their number; and he should then coolly tell them that he will summon them if they do not immediately clear the way.

If a carriage be injured by another running against it, the driver should ascertain whose carriage has done the mischief, and let his coachmaker give an estimate of the charge for repairing it; but, before he has it done, he should let the person who injured it see the mischief, and pay the charge; or, as is the custom, let the repair be made by the coachmaker of the party who committed the injury.