est at that time
out of London. It must be admitted that I undertook this task under
difficult circumstances--involving as it did, sixty miles a night--since
many had tried it ineffectually, or at all events were unable to
accomplish the duty satisfactorily. It is gratifying to me to reflect,
that I drove this coach more than seven years without a single mishap.
Getting at length rather tired of such incessant and monotonous nightly
work, I applied for a change to my employer, the well-known and
much-respected Mr. Chaplin, who at that time had seventeen hundred
horses employed in coaching. His reply was characteristic. "I cannot
find you all day coaches," said he; "besides, who am I to get to drive
your Mail?" I must say, I thought this rather severe at the time, but,
good and kind-hearted man as he was, he did not forget me.
Not long after this interview, the Brighton Day Mail being about to
start, he made me the offer, to drive the whole distance and horse the
coach a stage, with the option of driving it without horsing. Like most
young men I was rather ambitious, and closed with the former conditions.
The speculation, however, did not turn out a very profitable one, and,
the railway making great progress, I sold my horses to Mr. Richard
Cooper, who was to succeed me on the box. I was then offered the
far-famed Exeter "Telegraph," one of the fastest and best-appointed
coaches in England. My fondness for coaching still continuing, and not
feeling disposed to settle to any business, I drove this coach from
Exeter to Ilminster and back, a distance of sixty-six miles, early in
the morning and late at night. After driving it three years, the railway
opened to Bridgewater; this closed the career of the once-celebrated
"Telegraph." But those who had so long shared its success, were not
inclined to knock under. My brother coachman and myself, together with
the two guards, accordingly started a "Telegraph" from Devonport to
London, a distance of ninety-five miles by road, joining the rail at
Bridgewater, thus making the whole journey two hundred and fifty miles
in one day. At that time there was a coach called the "Nonpareil,"
running from Devonport to Bristol.
The proprietors of this vehicle, thinking that our's would take off some
of their trade, made their's a London coach also, and started at the
same time as we did. We then commenced a strong opposition. I had a very
good man to contend against--William Harbridge, a
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