The events of the day were contended for principally by gentlemen “jocks;” and bets of a few guldens produced as much interest as if thousands of pounds had been staked.
After passing an agreeable day (the larger portion of which was occupied in getting the amateur jocks to the post) I proceeded to find my team; and took a sly opportunity of making many alterations in the attelage, giving them all more room in their couplings and in their pole-pieces, middle bar instead of lower, and cheek to those I thought would bear it, buckling the traces (as near as I could) at even lengths, slacking all the curbs, and lengthening some of the head-stalls. The effect was marvellous; instead of the wild impetuous team I had brought up from the city, I had now four horses working evenly and pleasantly together, and, after the first quarter of a mile, not pulling an ounce more than they ought. Here let me repeat the maxim: “A team properly put together is half driven.”
[CHAPTER X.]
North-country fairs—An untrained foxhunter—Tempted again—Extraordinary memory of the horse—Satisfactory results from a Latch-key.
In former chapters I have spoken of coachmen and guards, both in the heyday and afternoon of their career—then, once qualified for this line of life, seldom exhibiting an inclination to change. But let me now descend to the coach horse. In the good old coaching days, so great was the demand, that breeders were found who devoted themselves to a class of animal calculated for coach work and little else. There was an understood price, and buyers for the contractors attended the North-country fairs and made their selection—twenty, fifty, or eighty horses, as required—the individual price never being referred to during the deal, so long as the average was not exceeded.
Seasoned horses were more valuable to proprietors than green uneducated colts from the fair; consequently, many opportunities were afforded for “chops” equally advantageous to both parties. An old hunter (old, not so much with reference to his years, as because he had been thus employed) made an admirable teamster. Horses with a blemish, or perhaps from some caprice of their owners, were often drafted while in their zenith, and those who were fortunate enough to pick them up, purchased with them some months (if not years) of good keep and condition, which could not be too highly appreciated. Condition means time; and nothing but time can effectually produce it. The power of a horse may be doubled by the condition of his frame, as it may be reduced by mismanagement and low keep to half its natural strength.
A large breeder in the North of England, a fine specimen of the old English yeoman, whom I visited some years ago, remarked to me: