The other case occurred to a coach which we put on in summer between Dolgelly and Machynlleth as a sort of auxiliary to the "Harkaway." It was only a three-horse power, and one morning on the up journey the leader was so alarmed by a dog running and barking at him that he sprang round suddenly, and the bar very fortunately twisted out of the pole-hook as he did so; and Jack Andrews, who was driving, not having buckled his reins, had only got to let them run through his fingers to release him entirely from the coach. As I was following with the "Harkaway" about half a mile behind, I was astonished to meet the loose horse tearing down the hill towards us, terrified by the bar banging about his houghs and the reins dangling at his heels, I feared I should shortly come upon a smash, which certainly must have been the case if the horse had not been able to go away clear of the coach. And now, gentle readers, I leave you to take your choice, premising that, for myself, I lean to unpinned ribbons.
Perhaps it may not be generally known now that, long years ago, in the days of the slow and heavy, it was the custom to use what was called "the short wheel rein;" that is, they were just long enough to hook upon the finger. In those days, also, coachmen did not catch their whips, only giving the thong a few turns round the crop at the upper ferrule.
Having now, I think, said enough on the subject of harness, we are ready to proceed to mounting the box.
Nimrod has somewhere said that a good coachman could almost be perceived by the manner in which he put his gloves on, or words to that effect; but without going so far as that, I believe the way in which he mounts his box is no bad criterion. How different to see a practised hand approach his team with confidence, and the almost mechanical way in which he handles the reins, from the hesitation and fumbling so often apparent in a tyro. Let us picture him to ourselves as he approaches his horses, how easily he catches his whip, the crop held well up so as not to run the chance of the thong being entangled in the wheeler's ears, and there are no festoons of the thong. Then taking hold with the left hand of the leading reins, nearly up at the territs, beginning with the near side, he gives them a pull sufficient to satisfy himself that no impediment exists to their free running, and passes them to the centre finger of the right hand; after which, doing the same with the wheel reins, he places them on the forefinger of the right hand, in which position they are ready to be transferred to the left hand, only reversing the fingers. This will prevent any necessity for sorting the reins after having mounted the box, and thus enabling him to start without a moment's delay. The other two fingers should be tightly pressed upon the reins to prevent them slipping.
I should not have entered into all this minutiæ if I had not seen, on one or two occasions, the reins divided by placing one finger between the two nearside reins, and the other between the off-side ones. Then there is another form to be equally deprecated, which, though seldom seen in double reins, is far too common with those driving a pair, or in single harness. I mean the thumb pressed down upon the reins and pointing to the front, a position which must inevitably pin the elbow to the side, and be destructive of all strength.
A NEAT MEETING.
A MUFFISH MEETING.
But I have seen what is even worse. I once beheld a gentleman performing in Hyde Park, who, finding himself seriously incommoded with the slack of his reins, stretched out his right hand over the left, seizing the reins in front of it, and then, like sailors hauling a rope hand over hand, proceeding to pass his left hand to the front and take hold of them in front of the right hand. I have frequently seen this manœuvre practised by coachmen driving one, or a pair, but only this once did I see the trick played on a four-horse box, and I should think, when it was completed, that the reins must have very much resembled a pack of cards well shuffled, and admirably calculated to land the coach in a ditch after dark.