On the other hand, they were probably superior to the Scottish roads of the time, even those in the more civilised southern districts. “It is recorded,” says Croal, “that in 1678”—the year after the founding of the Coach and Coach-Harness Makers’ Company in London—“the difficulties in the way of rapid communication were such that an agreement was made to run a coach between Edinburgh and Glasgow, a distance of forty-four miles, which was to be drawn by six horses, and to perform the journey to Glasgow and back in six days!” Cross-country travelling, indeed, was very bad, and the rough tracks over which the heavy stage-coaches rumbled along would have proved too much for the lighter chariots and gigs which were so popular in town. I may conclude this chapter by quoting an amusing description of such cross-country travelling at the end of the century, taken from Sir John Vanbrugh’s _Provoked Husband_. A family is going in its private coach from Yorkshire to London:— _Lord Townley._ Mr. Moody, your servant; I am glad to see you in London. I hope all the family is well. _John Moody._ Thanks be praised, your honour, they are all in pretty good heart, thof’ we have had a power of crosses upo’ the road. _Lady Grace._ I hope my Lady has no hurt, Mr. Moody. _John._ Noa, an’t please your ladyship, she was never in better humour: There’s money enough stirring now. _Manly._ What has been the matter, John? _John._ Why, we came up in such a hurry, you mun think that our tackle was not so tight as it should be. _Manly._ Come, tell us all: pray how do they travel? _John._ Why i’ the auld coach, Measter; and cause my Lady loves to do things handsome, to be sure, she would have a couple of cart horses clapt to th’ four old geldings, that neighbours might see she went up to London in her coach and six! And so Giles Joulter the ploughman rides postilion! _Lord Townley._ And when do you expect them here, John? _John._ Why, we were in hopes to ha’ come yesterday, an’ it had no’ been that th’ owld wheaze-belly horse tired; and then we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore-wheels came crash down at once in Waggon-Rut Lane; and there we lost four hours ’fore we could set things to rights again. _Manly._ So they bring all their baggage with the coach then? _John._ Ay, ay, and good store on’t there is. Why, my Lady’s gear alone were as much as filled four portmantel trunks, besides the great deal box that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit on behind. _Lady Grace._ Well, Mr. Moody, and pray how many are there within the coach? _John._ Why, there’s my Lady and his Worship, and the young squoire, and Miss Jenny, and the fat lap-dog, and my lady’s maid Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the cook; that’s all. Only Doll puked a little with riding backward, so they hoisted her into the coach-box, and then her stomach was easy.