He charmed the swats frae cog and pail
As he cam through Dumbarton."
Coaching Weather.
No doubt the landlord's laugh was ready chorus, and the Gay Charioteers of this department, I make bold to say, tasted most of the "far ben" barrels of every landlord or landlady in their way northward. The question of the weather occurs to every one. "If you have a dry season, it may be done; if a wet one, I doubt it," was the opinion of one of my wisest friends in Britain. We were surprisingly fortunate in this respect. Only one day did we suffer seriously from rain. A gentle shower fell now and then to cool the air and lay the dust, or rather to prevent the dust, and seemingly to recreate vegetation. Who wouldn't bear a shower, if properly supplied with waterproofs and umbrellas, for the fresh glory revealed thereafter. Only a continual downpour for days could have dampened the ardor of the Gay Charioteers. Good coaching weather may be expected in June and July, if one may indulge any weather anticipations in England. After we left the deluge came; nothing but rain during August and September, at least such was the report—but the conveniences of living are so great and the discomforts so few in England that I incline to the opinion, especially when I take into consideration the well-known tendency of the islanders to grumble, that far too much is made out of the so-called bad weather. We had a curious illustration of this. One day we heard some rumbling sounds which would scarcely pass with us for thunder, and we were amused next morning to read in the newspapers of the terrific thunder-storm which had passed over the district. All things are gentle and well behaved in this sober, steady-going, conservative land. Even Jove himself "roars you as mildly as a sucking dove." Pluvius, too, is less terrible than he is painted, though the green, green grass, the smiling hedgerows, the luxuriant vegetation everywhere tells of a moist nature and a disposition to weep at short intervals; but the rain comes gently down as if all the while begging your pardon and explaining that it couldn't possibly help it, the sky being unable to keep it any longer in its overburdened bosom. Strong, thick shoes, one pair in reserve, and overshoes for the ladies, heavy woollen clothing—under and over—a waterproof, an umbrella, and a felt hat that won't spoil—these rendered us almost independent of the weather and prepared us to encounter the worst ever predicted of the British climate; and this is saying a great deal, for the natives do grumble inordinately about it. As I have said, however, our travelling was never put to a severe test. England and Scotland smiled upon the coaching party, and compelled us all to fall deeply in love with their unrivalled charms. We thought that even in tears this blessed isle must still be enchanting.
The same horses (with one exception) took us through from Brighton to Inverness. This has surprised some horsemen here, but little do they know of the roads and climate, or of Perry's care. Our average distance, omitting days when we rested, was thirty-two miles, and horses will actually improve on such a journey, as ours did, if not pushed too fast and not forced to pull beyond their strength up steep hills. The continual desire of most of our party to dismount and enjoy a walk gave our horses a light coach where the road was such as to bring them to a walk, and they were actually in better condition after the journey than when we started.
Wayside Inns.
For luncheon, "good my liege, all place a temple and all seasons summer," but for lodgings and entertainment for man and beast, how did we manage these? Shall we not take our ease in our inn? and shall not mine host of The Garter, ay and mine hostess too, prove the most obliging of people? I do not suppose that it would be possible to find in any other country such delightful inns at every stage of such a journey. Among many pretty objects upon which memory lovingly rests, these little wayside inns stand prominently forward. The very names carry one back to quaint days of old: "The Lamb and Lark," "The Wheat Sheaf," "The Barley Mow." Oh, you fat wight! your inn was in Eastcheap, but in your march through Coventry, when you wouldn't go with your scarecrows, it was to some wayside inn you went, you rogue, with its trailing vines, thatched roof, and pretty garden flower-pots in the windows; and upon such excursions it was, too, that you acquired that love of nature which enabled the master with six words to cover most that was un-unsavory in your character, and hand you down to generations unborn, shrived and absolved. Dear old boy—whom one would like to have known—for after all you were right, Jack: "If Adam fell in an age of innocency, what was poor Jack Falstaff to do in an age of villainy!" There was something pure and good at bottom of one who left us after life's vanities were o'er playing with flowers and "babbling o' green fields." These country hostelries are redolent of the green fields. It is in such we would take our ease in our inn. The host, hostess, and servants assembled at the door upon our arrival, and welcomed us to their home, as they also do when we leave to bid us God-speed. We mount and drive off with smiles, bows, and wavings of the hands from them; and surely the smiles and good wishes of those who have done so much to promote our comfort over night are no bad salute for us as we blow our horn and start on the fresh dewy mornings upon our day's journey.
British Honesty.
The scrupulous care bestowed upon us and our belongings by the innkeepers excited remark. Not one article was lost of the fifty packages, great and small, required by fifteen persons. It was not even practicable to get rid of any trifling article which had served its purpose; old gloves, or discarded brushes quietly stowed away in some drawer or other would be handed to us at the next stage, having been sent by express by these careful, honest people. It was a great and interesting occasion, as the reporters say, when the stowed-away pair of old slippers which she had purposely left, were delivered to one of our ladies with a set speech after dinner one evening. Little did she suspect what was contained in the nice package which had been forwarded. Our cast-off things were veritable devil's ducats which would return to plague us. To the grandest feature of the Briton's character, the love of truth, let one more cardinal virtue be added—his downright honesty. More Englishmen of all ranks, high and low, in proportion to population, will escape conviction upon two counts of the general indictment, "Thou shalt not bear false witness," and "Thou shalt not steal," than those of any other nationality; but upon a collateral count a larger proportion of Englishmen of position will have difficulty in clearing themselves than of any other race of which I have knowledge; for while the true Briton will tell the truth, if he has to speak at all, he will conceal his honest convictions upon social and political subjects to such an extent in public as to seem to you almost hypocritical when compared with what he will say freely in private. The M.P. of the smoking room of the House of Commons and the same man on the floor of the House, for instance, are two distinct personages, for it is understood that whatever is said below is to be above as if unsaid. I have often wondered how they merge the one character into the other when the day's words and acts come under review ere the eyes close in sleep—there is such a miserable fear in the breast of the free-born Briton that he will in an unguarded moment say something which he feels to be true, but which society will not think "good form." The great difference between a Radical and a Liberal in England is, it seems to me, that the one holds the same opinions in public and in private, while the other has two sets of opinions, the one for public, the other for private use. The maintenance of old forms, from which the life has passed out, is no doubt the real cause of this phase of English political life, apparently so inconsistent with the Saxon love of truth; one sham requires many shams for its support.
We all have our special weaknesses as to the articles we leave behind at hotels. Mine is well known; but I smile as I write at the cleverness shown in preventing my lapses during the excursion from coming before the congregation. It was a wary eye which was kept upon forwarded parcels, mark you, and not once was I presented with a left article. The eleventh commandment is, not to be found out.