A revival of coaching was attempted in Dublin in the year 1879, but it did not attain any great proportions. There was one coach, however, with which I was intimately connected, which ran from the Sherbourne Hotel, Dublin, to the Vale of Avoca, and enjoyed a fair share of success. It was a private venture, was well horsed and appointed, changing four times in fifty-four miles (down one day and up another), and performing the journey in six hours, including a liberal interval for lunch each way.
This route embraces one of the most beautiful parts of Ireland, through the county of Wicklow, and the coach was consequently much encouraged by tourists and foreigners.
When the days of Land League and low rents (no rents) shall be buried in oblivion, and the country restored to the condition which I have described as its natural social aspect fifty years ago, I have no doubt that this and many other roads out of Dublin will be as thickly covered by amateur coaches as are the suburban roads from London.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
Virtue and vice—Sowing wild oats—They can all jump—Drive down Box Hill—A gig across country.
The intelligence of the horse, and his judgment in hesitating to perform feats which, if attempted, must result in dangerous accidents, have afforded many proofs of equine sagacity. On the other hand there are bolters and kickers which indulge in these vices apropos to nothing, and at times when a bad accident must inevitably ensue.
The worst vices of the horse are comprised in the two faults I have named. “Bolting” means shying, running away, shifting suddenly out of the road, or turning round short without notice. “Kicking” includes all the damage that can be inflicted on man, carriage, harness, etc., by a living catapult tipped with iron.