Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

military cap, with mustache, whom I entertained serious apprehensions about, as he came ringing his long brass spurs into the room, and, should he be still "to the fore," I hope he may read this my public expression of gratitude for his politeness. All things, in fact, were propitious. My charmer took the chair, and, in laying aside her well wadded black silk cloak, exhibited such a beautiful waist and swelling figure, enrobed in blue watered silk, as effectually drove all muffin and crumpet ideas out of my head. I was all for her!

I never saw the honours of a table so neatly, so gracefully performed. As each succeeding cup passed from before her, on its voyage down the table to some thirsty, unromantic consumer, she rose in my graduated scale of aristocracy, til! she touched the ducal beam of life. So busy was I in attendance, that the guard's screech of a horn sounded in the street before I had got through my first cup of coffee; and presently the coachman, hat in hand, and peeled down to half the man he was on alighting from his box, entered the room, with a sort of grin on his countenance, to perform the ceremony of what was uncourteously called "kicking the passengers." That was a term I never could understand; it was one of Nimrod's, I believe; at least he gave it currency on paper, though, doubtless, it was in familiar use on the road, or he would have accompanied the expression with an explanation. "Kicking" certainly was somewhat expressive of the parting scene between a coachman and a penurious passenger, for the dialogue, in general, was anything but complimentary; coachmen seemed to have a certain scale of remuneration in their minds, below which came remonstrance and incivility, while the ascending scale was marked with a louder and a louder "thank ye, marm," or "thank ye, sir," accompanied with a smile, a bow, a kick out behind, and perhaps a hoist of the hat at parting. And, by the way, the writing of that very word "kick" suggests the idea that the term "kicking the passenger" may have originated in this movement of coachee's leg, in acknowledging the munificence of a liberal customer. For the sake of posterity we will hope it was, otherwise what will future ages think, when some veracious historian records that coachtravelling was held in such utter contempt by the present generation, that even the very coachman kicked the passengers at parting! No wonder, the future reader will exclaim, that railways were established when such humiliation attended road travelling. Be that as it may, however, railway promoters deserve the thanks and gratitude of the present generation for doing away with the nuisance of fees from travellers. The old coach system was a terrible evil; it was an imposition to begin with, for the proprietors, on booking the seat, entered into a sort of contract to deliver the passenger at the prescribed place, which it was quite clear they could not do without the intervention of a coachman, and then the agent of conveyance claimed what he called his reglars, which was about the greatest misnomer that could be applied, for the only regularity in the matter was getting as much as they could. Nobody ever knew what to pay; the only way of guessing was by seeing what others gave, and watching coachee's tone and manner on receiving.

Coachmen must have made a good thing of it, and made their money very easily too, especially before they were magnified into pro

fessors, and taught to ape the gentleman. Some of them got so fine and smart that one was afraid to offer them less than half-a-crown, when very likely their brothers were labouring away at the plough, or perhaps as horse-keepers to Mr. Coachman himself, for as much pay for the whole day as Mr. Coachman got from a single inside-passenger for the journey.

Take the average daily earnings of one of them at eight or ten shillings, does not it seem preposterous that men of the same class and rank of life, with the same education and acquirements, should be so differently paid; that one should stand, spade in hand, in clogs, in a wet ditch, for half-a-crown, while the other sat driving for a far fewer number of hours, and got perhaps four times as much. If coachmen had been paid by coach proprietors we should have had less of the "doe-skin" and sherry and soda-water style of coachmen. The fact was coachmen were over-paid, over-praised, and underworked. High keep is a bad thing both for servants and horses, and latterly coachmen were well clothed, and, doubtless, fared sumptuously every day; for my part I never thought the prominent position with which, at one time, they were written, was desirable, judicious, or beneficial to the public. True it is that civility, and a certain amount of manner in a servant is desirable, but then it must be the civility of the servant, and not the attempted politeness of the gentleman; it was one thing for a coachman to touch his hat, another for him to bow to you. The terms of equality on which some mistaken individuals allowed coachmen to exhibit themselves was detrimental to passengers and injurious to many of the rising generation. There was nothing more offensive than the slangey apeing of a coachman, which at one time was the bad taste of the day. Then these cmbryo coachmen paid their "magnus Apolloes" the real ones so well, that, of course, Mr. Coachman considered them the models of perfect gentlemen; and any unfortunate, humble-minded individual, in pepper-and-salt, or black, with short gaiters, and an umbrella under his arm, who hazarded an opinion or question, was met either by a look of superlative pity, or such an answer as plainly said "Hold your tongue, and don't talk nonsense." It was not until "kicking time" was near approaching that a coachman seemed to think it worth his while to know of the existence of any passenger, save the box-seat one. On some coaches the box-seat was as good as an annuity, either to the book-keepers or coachmen, or perhaps both. They made no scruple of charging half-a-crown for booking this post of honourable ambition. Happy youth who got it. He had the honour of holding coachee's reins when he alighted, or of passing his tumbler of sherry and soda-water to and fro, when the inn stood on the wrong side of the coach. A guard was a curious sort of an animal: something between a coachman and a watchman. The face, the clothes, and the manners of a coachman, without a coachman's sole-acquirement, the art (science I believe the professors called it) of driving four-in-hand. In point of usefulness a guard was quite upon a par with the old "Charleys." "He never knew nothin' where nothin' was put," but he could tell any real gen'lman where a drop of uncommon good stuff was to be had on the road. If railways have lowered the upper scale of society by inducing those who never travelled but in their

own luxurious carriages to adopt public conveyance, they have elevated those in the other scale, by drawing a line between travellers and the servants of the concern. Formerly the guard was considered a sort of entertaining partner of the coach. There he sat, in what was classically called the gammon-box, with two passengers alongside of him (if their breadths admitted it), and three or four ranged opposite, face to face; cracking nuts and old jokes, telling the same old stories, answering the same questions day after day, year after year, through summer's heat and winter's cold, till the guards got so fat they could hardly hoist themselves into their seats. The gammonbox was certainly the last refuge for the destitute, only one remove from the stage-waggon. It was frequently a moving larder as well as a conveyance for human beings. Öyster-barrels, Norfolk turkeys, hares, pheasants, fish-baskets, rabbits, joints, yeast-cans, piled and hung about, with not unfrequently a dog or two in a hamper, to remind people of the old adage that those who lie with dogs will rise with fleas. Now this is all reformed. Hard though the second class fare seats may be, they afford ample room, and passengers are not encroached upon by luggage, or boxes, or baskets, or any of the thousand and one little articles of merchandise that guards were continually soliciting the consideration of the passengers for. The guard, too, is ejected-stories, coats, capes, cravats, and all-and passengers associate with passengers as they ought to do. Above all, if travellers take the ordinary precaution of labelling their luggage, they feel something like security for its safe finding at the end of the journey. Those who travel to the great absorbing point of London, may reckon upon it with perfect confidence, for the London luggage-van, on the generality of railways, disgorges nothing till it gets there. majority of coach guards, as I said before, never knew anything about luggage. The porters, or horse-keepers frequently loaded the coach for them, and all the guards seemed to interest themselves about, was the possibility of cramming something extra upon or about the coach. Then at the journey's end they were far too busy kicking the passengers, and looking after those who had no luggage (generally the bolting breed) to be able to attend to the unfortunate victim of trunks, carpet-bags, bundles, band-boxes, and bird-cages. I wonder no unfortunate wight ever died of a luggage fever during the days of coach travelling.

The

But my censures of the old, and congratulations of the new, era of travelling, are running my observations to a greater length than I anticipated, particularly as, on reading over what I have written, I find I am keeping my fair charmer in the breakfast-room at Old Sarum, instead of progressing onwards with her to Exeter. It will hardly be expected that I should detail any of the soft nothings that passed; indeed, to tell the truth, it was chiefly eye work, for we never had less than one, and sometimes two other women in the coach- --a situation altogether impracticable for viva voce love-making. For a few miles, to be sure, we were left together, and just as I was drawing gently on to my game, a toll-keeper hailed the coach as it approached, and in answer to the inquiry if he had room for a passenger, I heard coachee exclaim, "plenty inside!" and presently, in queezed a great fat woman sideways, wheezing and blowing with the unwonted

exertion, who squatted herself down, and horrified me by informing the guard she was going to Exeter. She was a nobleman's housekeeper in the habit of "using the road," as they called it, and at every change she put her great beastly head out of the window, and inquired kindly after Lord this, and the Marquis of that, and whether the Duke of anybody had gone up or down lately; making sundry inquiries after their respective healths, and also after the healths of divers Mr. and Mistresses; doubtless, the servants of the various establishments. As I said before, if it had'nt been for her, I believe I should have offered to my darling, though whether I should have been accepted, rejected, or used as a cat's paw, the three alternatives to which an offerer is subjected, remains a matter of mystery; for a tall, handsome, black whiskered, smart dressed youth, met her at Exeter, and handed her out of the coach in a manner that plainly showed his delight at the meeting. She too, seemed better pleased than I liked.

Good God! what a ravager is time-and brandy and water! or brandy, perhaps, without water.

Ten years after I was passing through Launceston, and stopped by chance at the sign of "The man loaded with mischief." Within the bar was a face I thought I had seen in this to and fro, up and down hard working world, but when, or where, or how, all recollection had passed away. The old gentleman with the scythe, I suppose, had dealt more leniently by me, for my coach friend recognized me; but it was not until she recalled the particulars of the journey to Exeter, that I could believe the woe-begone, pimpley nosed, lustreless eyed, slipshod wench, was the bright blue-eyed morning star I had travelled on from Glastonbury to accompany. Yet, so it was. The story is soon told. My divinity married the butler-the gentleman who met her. They took an inn (public, rather), and supplied the deficiency of custom by drinking themselves. The butler, from being a smart, straight, upright, active fellow, had swelled out into a Daniel Lambert sort of figure, and all that remained of my divinity were a pair of large, crows-footy grey eyes, with gummy lids, sic transit gloria blue eyes! I never think of Launceston without a shudder.

NIMROD'S ANALYSIS

OF

"THE DIARY OF A HUNTSMAN."

BY THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., LATE MASTER OF THE CRAVEN.

On the important subject of hounds at check, Mr. Smith thus very judiciously expresses himself" It often happens when a fox goes straight away for several miles at a pretty good pace, it is evident, from a sudden turn the hounds make, that he is afraid to go on, and

begins to head back; if on occasions of this sort he beats them out of scent, all hunting is at an end, and the best plan is to finish with trotting back to the cover where he was found, and most likely he will be got there, unless you go back with the hounds too quickly, for they often stop and listen when they find they are not pressed: and should he hear the huntsman, or get wind of the pack in their way back, he will bear off, or lay down. For on bad hunting-days these sort of foxes are apt to stop and listen, and this is one reason why they are not more easily beaten; if, instead, they were to go on straight, best pace, they would not stand it as they do. Therefore it requires judgment in not getting back to cover too quickly: this may be called, though unfairly so, lifting hounds; but it is not so, for it would not be done until every other cast had been made."

Speaking of halloos by the field, our author says it is a common observation that they do more harm than good, which, he observes, is in some measure quite true. "But there are times," he says, "when a man would give half he is worth for one. But even," continues he, "when it is so valuable, few huntsmen have coolness enough to take the best means of profiting by it, by riding with his hounds up to the spot, and coolly, distinctly, and most deliberately inquiring where the fox was seen the identical spot, if possible; which way he was going; where came from, and how long since?" No doubt, taking hounds hurriedly to a halloo is wrong, inasmuch as confusion, as to the required information, is too often the consequence, and hounds are either blown or so much excited as not to put their noses down, and sometimes they will break away upon heel or fly over the scent.

The following advice is good. When a huntsman takes his hounds to a halloo in a cover, and finds the fox has crossed a ride, Mr. Smith recommends his pulling up his horse to a stand-still about a dozen paces before he comes to the spot, and by turning his horse's head out of the ride the same way the fox has gone, he will get them into the cover on the side he wished; whereas, had he ridden quite up to the spot, there would be danger of the heel-way being taken.

Although aware that much cheering and hallooing to hounds by a huntsman is disapproved of, still Mr. Smith thinks that, in large woodlands, it keeps hounds together, and often makes foxes flythe hunted-one especially. He also thinks it makes other foxes fly on future days, as, having escaped on one occasion, they do not forget the alarming note. Add to this the fact, that hounds will come to a good shrill view-halloo much quicker than to a horn. If too much used, Mr. Smith thinks it loses its effect on hounds; but that in bad scenting countries, when it is necessary to cheer hounds a good deal to get them together, and to make them work, it must be had recourse to, inasmuch as no man's voice can last long, if his constitution does, with perpetual hallooing to hounds.

Mr. Smith offers an opinion that huntsmen are given to imagine their fox to be more beaten than he really is, and often hang about at a check, trying every hedge-row, expecting his hounds to catch him; but, says he, "it would be wiser, instead of dwelling so long, if they first made all their forward casts completely, and then came back.

« AnteriorContinuar »