Coaching, with Anecdotes of the Road. William Pitt Lord Lennox

in order to give the passengers time for breakfast, and again for the same time at Linlithgow for dinner. A third stoppage took place in order that the passengers might enjoy their tea, when they again proceeded on their road, and were finally set down safely in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh at eight o'clock at night.

      About this period there was a ponderous machine with six broad wheels, and drawn by eight horses, called the Newcastle waggon. In addition to passengers, it generally carried a great portion of the Glasgow linen and cotton manufactures to the London market. It travelled at the rate of twenty-five miles a day, and was three weeks upon the road between Glasgow and London, resting always upon the Sundays. At that time the best mode of conveyance from Glasgow to the English capital was by a trading vessel from Borrowstounness; and so remarkable was a sight of London considered in Glasgow, that a worthy citizen who bore the same Christian and surname as another friend was, after his return from London, distinguished as "London John."

      The use of stage-coaches rapidly extended itself, and there was scarcely a town through which some stage-coach did not pass. After a time, the heavy six-inside lumbering vehicle gave way to the light four-inside fast coach; and from the year 1825 until the introduction of railways, nothing could exceed the "turns out" on the principal roads. In 1833 the distance between London and Shrewsbury (one hundred and fifty-four miles), Exeter (one hundred and seventy-one miles), and Manchester (one hundred and eighty-seven miles) was done in a day. The Mail to Holyhead performed the journey (two hundred and sixty-one miles) in twenty-seven hours, and that to Liverpool (two hundred and three miles) in twenty-one hours. The journey to Brighton was accomplished at the rate of twelve miles an hour, including stoppages, and the Bath, Bristol, Southampton, Oxford, and Cambridge coaches were famed for their excellent arrangements.

      In 1807 one of the Stamford stage-coaches that daily ran to London performed the journey (ninety-nine miles) in nine hours and four minutes from the time of starting; although the passengers were allowed time to breakfast and dine upon the road. The coach must necessarily have run at the rate of twelve miles an hour.

      The fast coach had nearly a horse to every mile of ground it ran, reckoning one way, or "one side of the ground"—for example, from London to Shrewsbury the distance is one hundred and fifty-eight miles, and the number of horses kept for the "Wonder" coach was one hundred and fifty.

      The average price of horses for these coaches was about £23. Fancy teams, and those working out of London, were rated considerably higher; but, taking a hundred miles of ground, well horsed, the above was about the mark. In these days it would be nearly if not quite double. The average period of each horse's service did not exceed four years.

CHAPTER II.

       Table of Contents

      DANGERS OF TRAVELLING—ANECDOTES OF HIGHWAYMEN—INNKEEPERS AND HIGHWAYMEN—STAGE-COACH ROBBERIES—A 'CUTE LADY—A JOURNEY TO LONDON UNDER DIFFICULTIES—TRAVELLING IN 1770—VANBRUGH'S DESCRIPTION OF AN M.P.'S JOURNEY—SYDNEY SMITH ON MODERN IMPROVEMENT.

      CHAPTER II.

      In the days I write of, Macaulay tells us that the mounted highwayman, a marauder known to the present generation only from books, was to be found on every main road. Hounslow Heath on the Great Western Road, Finchley Common on the Great Northern Road, were, perhaps, the most celebrated of these spots; but there was hardly an open common or steep hill which was not infested with these enterprising plunderers.

      Upon two occasions I fell in with these gentlemen of the road. Once, when travelling in very early youth from London to Goodwood, the Chichester coach was stopped by two ill-favoured scoundrels, who were about to levy black mail on the inside passengers, when, fortunately, the sound of a travelling-carriage was heard, and thinking, probably, that the inmates of it might be armed, the robbers scampered off.

      The second adventure occurred to me when returning very late at night from Tunbridge Wells in a dennet with my trusty batman, John Hargreaves, by my side. We were ascending the hill that leads into Sevenoaks, my servant walking up it and I driving, when I heard a shrill whistle from one side of the road, which was immediately responded to. Anticipating some mischief, I said "Jump in," and, obedient to orders, Hargreaves did so.

      Happily, we had reached the summit of the hill, when one man rushed forward and attempted to seize the horse's bridle, while another tried to hang on behind the gig. Hargreaves had my stick in his hand, a good ash plant, with which he struck the fellow a blow across the face, which made him relax his hold, while I gave a smart lash of the whip to my most willing horse, who started off at a tremendous pace down the hill, leaving my assailant sprawling on the ground, and within an inch of having his head run over by the wheel.

      "Stage-coach robberies were of daily occurrence, and it was generally supposed that they were connived at by many innkeepers; so much so, indeed, that proclamations were issued warning all innkeepers that the eye of the Government was upon them. Their criminal connivance, it was affirmed, enabled banditti to infest the roads with impunity. That those suspicions were not without foundation is proved by the dying speeches of some penitent robbers of that age, who appear to have received from the innkeepers services much resembling those which Farquhar's 'Boniface' rendered to 'Gibbet.'"

      In the "Domestic Intelligence" I read that "several passengers, both men and women, to the number of fifteen, going in three or four coaches towards Bath and Bristol, were set upon by some highwaymen (supposed to be soldiers) well armed, about Stoke Church, in Oxfordshire (a very desolate part at that time), who robbed them all of very considerable value."

      Another adventure may not prove uninteresting. Two travellers were journeying together over a dreary common, when one remarked to the other that he trusted they should not fall in with any highwaymen, as he had one hundred pounds secreted in his boot. They had not gone many miles before they came to a most secluded spot, where four cross roads met; the new-laid earth round the finger-post, and a gibbet at some little distance, with a skeleton body suspended in chains to it, showed that two human beings had met with ignominious deaths. They had been companions in crime, and in robbing the Mail the guard had been killed.

      An offer of a free pardon and two hundred pounds reward had been proclaimed, when one of the wretches, actuated by vile lucre, turned King's evidence, and sacrificed his friend. Although he had taken part in the robbery, as he did not fire the fatal shot, his pardon was granted and the blood money awarded him. On the morning of the execution of his partner in guilt, remorse seized hold of the informer, and by his own hand he rid the country of a villain.

      The two travellers, who, I ought to say, had met accidentally at an inn, reached the spot I have described; the wind whistled across the heath—the chains of the gibbet clanked, the birds of carrion hovered over the new-made grave, in which the suicide had been buried, and the body of the murderer dangled in the air.

      As they passed the grave of the suicide, three men suddenly rushed forward, determined, as they swore, with a dreadful imprecation, to have the money or the lives of the travellers.

      "Spare our lives! Take all I have!" cried one. "Here it is!" offering a handful of silver.

      "That won't do!" responded the highwayman. "I'll soon see what you have about you!"

      "Stay!" said the other. "My companion has our money hid away in his boot."

      "Traitor!" exclaimed his companion, while one of the gang, with blackened face and cocked pistol, proceeded to take off the boots of the terrified victim.

      "If you've spoken false," shouted the first, "I'll give you an ounce of lead for your pains."

      "He has spoken truth," responded the searcher. "Here's a prize—a hundred pounds in Bank of England notes!"

      Securing the money, the two travellers were blindfolded and bound to the finger-post, while the horse was taken out of their gig and turned loose on the common. It was nearly an hour before they were released from their position, during which period the ill-used victim vented his anger pretty loudly.

      Upon