fessional trainer, he was sent
to the hammer, and sold for a sum that did not pay for the
attempt to break him in. This maxim, therefore, "that it's the
pace that kills," is altogether fallacious in the moderate sense
in which we are viewing it. In the old coaching days, indeed,
when the Shrewsbury "Wonder" drove into the inn yard while the
clock was striking, week after week and mouth after month, with
unerring regularity, twenty-seven hours to a hundred and
sixty-two miles; when the "Quicksilver" mail was timed to eleven
miles an hour between London and Plymouth, with a fine of L5 to
the driver if behind time; when the Brighton "Age," "tool'd" and
horsed by the late Mr. Stevenson, used to dash round the square
as the fifth hour was striking, having stopped at the half-way
house while his servant handed a sandwich and a glass of sherry
to his passengers,--then the pace was indeed "killing." But the
truth is, horses that are driven at a jog-trot pace lose that
_elan_ with which a good driver can inspire them, and they are
left to do their work by mere weight and muscle; therefore,
unless he has contrary orders, a good driver will choose a smart
pace, but not enough to make his horses perspire: on level roads
this should never be seen.

2231. In choosing his horses, every master will see that they
are properly paired,--that their paces are about equal. When
their habits differ, it is the coachman's duty to discover how
he can, with least annoyance to the horses, get that pace out of
them. Some horses have been accustomed to be driven on the
check, and the curb irritates them; others, with harder mouths,
cannot be controlled with the slight leverage this affords; he
must, therefore, accommodate the horses as he best can. The
reins should always be held so that the horses are "in hand;"
but he is a very bad driver who always drives with a tight rein;
the pain to the horse is intolerable, and causes him to rear and
plunge, and finally break sway, if he can. He is also a bad
driver when the reins are always slack; the horse then feels
abandoned to himself; he is neither directed nor supported, and
if no accident occurs, it is great good luck.

2232. The true coachman's hands are so delicate and gentle, that the
mere weight of the reins is felt on the bit, and the directions are
indica