"Both coachmen were in fault. The Holyhead coach had no lamps, and the explanation of their absence was that 28th June of that year was the Coronation Day of our beloved Queen, and the crowd was so great in Birmingham that, in paying attention to getting the horses through the streets, and having lost considerable time in so doing, in the hurry to get the coach off again, the guard did not ascertain if the lamps were with the coach or not. The Manchester coach, at the time of the accident, was attempting, when climbing the hill, to pass the Carlisle mail coach, and was ascending on the wrong side of the road. The horses dashed into each other, with the result that one of the wheel horses of the Holyhead mail, belonging to Mr. Wilson, of Daventry, was killed, and the others injured, one of the leaders seriously. The harness was old, and snapped like chips, or more serious would have been the consequences. In fact, the horse killed was old and worn-out, otherwise, the sudden concussion might have deprived the passengers of life, and, probably, more horses would have been killed. As it was difficult to decide which of the two coachmen was most in the wrong, it was left to the two coachmasters to arrange affairs between themselves."
How the Holyhead, the Manchester, and the Carlisle mails ever got together on the same road I am unable to say, but can only suppose that the railway being open at that time from Liverpool and Manchester to Birmingham, the bags were in some way handed over to them for conveyance as far as was possible, and were then consigned at the terminus at Birmingham to their respective mail coaches; but, even then, I should have thought that the weight of the bags could not have been sufficient to necessitate a separate coach for each place.
CHAPTER IV.
COMBATING WITH SNOW, FOGS, AND FLOODS.
How vividly do these words recall the many wet and snowy journeys which I have experienced, both as coachman and passenger, in years gone by, and, strange as it may appear to most people now-a-days, with no unpleasurable associations, though no doubt it was rather trying at the time. Snowstorms, in particular, were very detrimental to coachmen's eyes, particularly when accompanied with high winds. A good look out forward could on no account be relaxed, and that placed the eyes in such a position as was most favourable for the large flakes to fall into them. One coachman on the Holyhead mail, I forget his name, lost his sight from the effects of a snowstorm in the pass of Nant Francon, but probably his eyes had already been weakened by previous experiences of the same nature. I don't think my own have even quite recovered the effects of three winters over the base of Cader Idris.
But, notwithstanding all the bad weather I have been exposed to, I cannot call to mind having ever been wet through outside a coach; but then I always took care to be well protected by coats, and all other contrivances for withstanding it. I have, however, seen a fellow-passenger, when he dismounted from a coach at the end of an eighty miles' journey, performed in soaking rain, whose boots were as full of water from the rain having run down him, as if he had just walked through a brook.
I never had the misfortune of being regularly snowed up, though I have had some experience of snowdrifts. One of the winters that I drove the "Harkaway" was accompanied by a good deal of snow, and the road for part of the journey, which ran over high and exposed ground, became drifted up, preventing the coach running for two days.
On the third, however, as a slight thaw had set in, it was determined to try and force a way through, especially as the road surveyor had sent some men to clear away the snow. As far as the coach road was concerned, however, these men might nearly as well have stayed at home, as they had confined their attention to letting off the water where it had melted, and when the coach arrived at the spot the drifts remained very much as they had been. Under these circumstances, instead of the proverbial three courses there were only two offered to us—namely, to "go at it or go home." I chose the former alternative, and, catching the horses fast by the head, sent them at the first drift with such a will, that, between the force of the pace and a struggle or two besides, the coach was landed about half way through, when it stuck fast. The workmen now came to our assistance, and dug us out, and I had then only to do the same at the other two drifts, and we managed to catch a train at Machynlleth, though not the right one, as it had taken us two hours to cover a distance of one mile and a half.
Though I have always been fortunate enough to keep clear of dangerous floods, I did so once only by a detour of seven miles, thereby lengthening the day's drive to one hundred, and this reminds me of a rather droll request that was once made to me.
I was driving my drag with a party going to a picnic, and in the course of the drive we had to ford a river which had risen very considerably from the rains of the previous night. When we had got about half-way across, the water had become deep enough to rise a foot or so up the leaders' sides, and the spray was dashing over their backs. Of course, there was nothing to be done except to push on, but a lady called to me from behind, begging me either to turn round, or else put her down. If I had acceded to her last request, she would have met with a cool reception!
Notwithstanding all that was done by the great improvement made in roads, together with the superior class of horses employed and the general excellence of the coachmen, nothing could be effected to prevent loss of time or accidents occurring through severe snows, floods, and fogs, and the mail-bags were from these causes delayed, although, as we have already seen, almost superhuman efforts were made by the guards to get them through the stoppages.