CHAPTER XIII.

OLD TIMES.

It may seem strange to those who have never had any experience of road travelling, that the memory of hours spent in journeys, when the passengers by public conveyances had only the choice between passing a whole day, and still more, a night, exposed to all the vicissitudes of the British climate, or else in what, compared even to a third-class carriage on a railway, was little better than a box upon wheels, should conjure up reminiscences of happy hours passed under circumstances which must naturally appear to those who have never tried it, absolutely insufferable. Such, however, I believe to be the case, and I very much doubt whether anything like the same affectionate reminiscences will linger about the present luxurious mode of travelling.

At the present age, in consequence of the generally increased luxury, there has arisen an impatience of discomfort unknown to previous generations. Whether this arises from the fact that journeys are now so soon accomplished that one never feels it necessary to try and make the best of it, and affords no opportunity for a trial of pluck and endurance, dear to the heart of an Englishman, I know not; but that there is something deeply seated in human nature, which takes delight in recounting what it has gone through in the way of suffering is certain; or, perhaps, it may be that there was something which addressed itself to the love of sport, innate to man, in travelling behind four horses. This point I will not venture to decide. Certain it is that coaching has always been supposed to be nearly related to sporting. In the daytime, especially in fine weather, there is something very exhilarating in passing quickly through the air, and hearing the rapid steps of four horses on the hard road; and then there was, at least by day, just time enough, even on the fastest coaches, to run into the bar occasionally, whilst the horses were being changed, to have a glass of brown sherry, and exchange a word and a laugh with the pretty barmaid--for they were all pretty! At any rate, these things helped to break the monotony of the journey. Again, if the traveller desired to become acquainted with the country he was passing through, he could be in no better place for seeing it than on the outside of a coach, which by passing through the towns on the route afforded a much better idea of what they were like in architecture and other things, than by only skirting them, as must necessarily be the case on a railway. I often fancy that entering a town from a railway station is something like sneaking into a house by the back door. Night travelling, no doubt, had its serious drawbacks, but they were, to some extent at least, alleviated by a stoppage of sufficient time to get a good supper, such as would warm up the cockles of the heart, and enable the passengers to start again warm, and with a fresh stock of pluck to endure what they could not cure. At any rate, they knew no better.

I tell my grandson that he loses twelve hours of his holidays from Eton now, since he does not have what I look back upon as a downright jolly night. Instead of not leaving college till the morning of breaking up as at present, the "Rocket" coach of the old days, from London to Birmingham and Shrewsbury, used on the previous evening to come to Slough empty, where it arrived about seven o'clock, and at which place we boys who were going long journeys in that direction were allowed to join it; and right well we filled it, inside and out, though the latter was the most coveted position, as being thought more manly. I recollect on my second journey home, though it was the Christmas holidays, my anxious parents having secured an inside place for me, I exchanged it with another boy, "without receiving the difference," so that I might not travel inside, and after that I was left to my own choice.

As it was known some days before what the load would be composed of on those nights, an extra good supper was provided at Oxford, to which we did ample justice, and, as the coach was pretty much at our service on that occasion, there was time to enjoy ourselves thoroughly, which we did to our hearts' content, and started off again warm and comfortable and as "jolly as sand-boys," though I must admit we did know what cold feet were before arriving at Birmingham about eight o'clock on the following morning. That, however, coach travellers expected, and would, perhaps, have been rather disappointed without it.

On these nights the coach used to be so heavily loaded with luggage that things were hung to the lamp-irons, and everything else that could be pressed into the service, and on one sharp, frosty night some small articles were slung under the hind axle, amongst which was a basket of fish; unfortunately, this had been allowed to hang so low down that it came in contact with the hard, frosty road, and when the place was reached where it was to be delivered, nothing could be found but the basket with the bottom out, the cod and oysters having been scattered on the road.

The "Rocket" was not so fast a coach as its name might imply, and old Rook, who drove one side between Birmingham and Shrewsbury, though a good coachman of the old school, was not very particular to ten minutes or so, but would sometimes stop and take a little pleasure on the road; and I well remember passing through Bilson when a bull was being baited on a piece of open ground between the houses, and close to the roadside, and he pulled up to watch the operations for some time. There was a story told of him, that he had a friend who was a pig dealer, whose business frequently caused him to be walking in the same direction as the coach, and if there was room he would give him a lift. One day he came up with his friend walking at his very best pace, when, as usual, he offered him a ride, to which he replied, "No thank you, old fellow, not to-day; I am in a hurry, and can't while."

I cannot say that the return journey carries with it the same pleasurable recollections, even after this distance of time. The "Triumph" coach by which it was performed, was a night one between Shrewsbury and Birmingham, and travelled by day above the latter town, but as it had only a pair of horses up to there it was a very slow affair, starting from Shrewsbury at eleven o'clock at night, and not arriving at Birmingham before six on the following morning. To send a boy back to school on a two-horse power, which consumed seven hours in covering forty-four miles, seems rather like "adding insult to injury." The only amusement we could by any possibility indulge in was when we came to a turnpike gate, when the collector was sleepy and slow in opening it, to cry out "Fire!" as loud as we could to alarm him. We found that the cry of "Murder!" had no effect.

My recollection also reminds me that we did not always travel home by the "Rocket." One Easter holidays three of us started from Eton to post to London in one of the old yellow post-chaises, when soon after passing Slough, the demon of mischief taking possession of us, we determined to have some fun on the road, for which purpose we changed half-a-crown into coppers, and using them as missiles, made a stealthy attack upon the shop windows as we drove along. This fun lasted very well till after changing horses at Hounslow, but upon passing through Brentford, whether we had become too bold and careless, or whether the inhabitants of that town were a sharper race, I don't know, but we all of a sudden found ourselves the object of much interest to them, and a man running out of a shop, seized hold of our horses' heads, and calling us all the young blackguards he could think of, presented his little account for broken glass, etc., etc. I need hardly say that this was immediately settled without haggling, and telling the post-boy to make the best of his way, we soon left the town of Brentford, and further hostile attention on the part of its inhabitants, behind us.

In the previous generation a case occurred when a journey home from Eton was performed on a much grander scale than that which I have just recorded, and as it was of necessity performed by road, may not be inappropriately introduced in this place.

The then Bishop of Worcester, Dr. Cornwall, had two sons at Eton, and on a certain Election Monday they started to go home to their paternal mansion at Diddlesbury, situate in Corvedale in the county of Salop, where the Bishop resided a good deal of his time. The family temper was of rather a hasty nature, and something occurred after the young gentlemen had proceeded a certain distance on the journey which stirred up this hereditary failing, the altercation becoming so strong that they parted company, each one ordering out a post-chaise and four for his own individual use; and it ended in first of all one of them arriving at his destination in a post-chaise and four from Ludlow, followed in about a quarter-of-an-hour by the other brother in a similar conveyance. Report does not say how the Right Rev. father received his sons, but if he had a spice of the family temper, he probably gave them a "_mauvais quart d'heure_" as the Frenchman says. At any rate, one thing is certain, that it would puzzle the picturesque little town of Ludlow at the present time to turn out "_two fours_" without a long warning.