Summary

Portrait of Leigh Hunt Leigh Hunt,  Coaches and Coaching

“ The whip makes it go, more from habit than from pain. Its coat has become almost callous to minor stings. The blind and staggering fly in autumn might come to die against its cheek.
Of a pair of hackney-coach horses, one so much resembles the other that it seems unnecessary for them to compare notes. They have that within them which is beyond the comparative. They no longer bend their heads towards each other as they go. They stand together as if unconscious of one another's company. But they are not.
An old horse misses his companion, like an old man.
”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Leigh Hunt Leigh Hunt,  Coaches and Coaching

“ It happens that we can sleep anywhere except in a mail-coach; so that we hate to see a prudent, warm, old fellow, who has been eating our fowls and intercepting our toast, put on his night-cap in order to settle himself till morning. We rejoice in the digs that his neighbour's elbow gives him, and hail the long-legged traveller that sits opposite.
A passenger of our wakeful description must try to content himself with listening to the sounds above mentioned; or thinking of his friends; or turning verses, as Sir Richard Blackmore did, "to the rumbling of his coach's wheels."
”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Leigh Hunt Leigh Hunt,  Coaches and Coaching

“ The same person, and his serious young companion, tricked us out of a good bed we happened to get at the inn.
The greatest peculiarity attending a mail-coach arises from its travelling at night. The gradual decline of talk, the incipient snore, the rustling and shifting of legs and nightcaps, the cessation of other noises on the road—the sound of the wind or rain, of the moist circuit of the wheels, and of the time-beating tread of the horses—all dispose the traveller, who cannot sleep, to a double sense of the little that is left him to observe.
”
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature