Coaching Days & WaysCuming, E. D. (Edward William Dirom)
History
Coaching Days & Ways
Cuming, E. D. (Edward William Dirom)
Coaching (Transportation) -- England; England -- Social life and customs
'The worthy old gentleman is now shown into a room, and after warming
his hands at the fire, rings the bell for the waiter. A well-dressed
person appears, whom he of course takes for the landlord. "Pray, sir,"
says he, "have you any _slow_ coach down this road to-day?" "Why,
yes, sir," replies John; "we shall have the Regulator down in an
hour." "Just right," said our friend; "it will enable me to break my
fast, which I have not done to-day." "Oh, sir," observes John, "these
here fast _drags_ be the ruin of us." 'Tis all hurry scurry, and no
gentleman has time to have nothing on the road. "What will you take,
sir? Mutton-chops, veal-cutlets, beef-steaks, or a fowl (to kill?)"
'At the appointed time, the Regulator appears at the door. It is a
strong, well-built drag, painted what is called chocolate colour,
bedaubed all over with gilt letters--a bull's head on the doors, a
Saracen's head on the hind boot, and drawn by four strapping horses;
but it wants the neatness of the other. The passengers may be, by a
shade or two, of a lower order than those who had gone forward with
the Comet; nor, perhaps, is the coachman quite so refined as the one
we have just taken leave of. He has not the neat white hat, the clean
doeskin gloves, the well-cut trousers, and dapper frock; but still his
appearance is respectable, and perhaps, in the eyes of many, more in
character with his calling. Neither has he the agility of the artist
on the Comet, for he is nearly double his size; but he is a strong
powerful man, and might be called a pattern card of the heavy coachman
of the present day--in other words, of a man who drives a coach which
carries sixteen passengers instead of fourteen, and is rated at eight
miles an hour instead of ten. "What room in the Regulator?" says our
friend to the waiter, as he comes to announce its arrival. "Full
inside, sir, and in front; but you'll have the gammon board all to
yourself, and your luggage is in the hind boot." "Gammon board! Pray,
what's that? Do you not mean the basket?"[7] "Oh no, sir," says John,
smiling; "no such thing on the road now. It is the hind-dickey, as some
call it; where you'll be as comfortable as possible, and can sit with
your back or your face to the coach, or _both_, if you like." "Ah, ah,"
continues the old gentleman; "something new again, I presume." However,
the mystery is cleared up; the ladder is reared to the hind wheel and
the gentleman safely seated on the gammon board.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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