But we get past even this, and come to the road itself, which is a
series of alternate swamps and gravel-pits. A tremendous place is
close before us, the black driver rolls his eyes, screws his mouth
up very round, and looks straight between the two leaders, as if he
were saying to himself, ‘We have done this often before, but NOW I
think we shall have a crash.’ He takes a rein in each hand; jerks
and pulls at both; and dances on the splashboard with both feet
(keeping his seat, of course) like the late lamented Ducrow on two
of his fiery coursers. We come to the spot, sink down in the mire
nearly to the coach windows, tilt on one side at an angle of fortyfive
degrees, and stick there. The insides scream dismally; the
coach stops; the horses flounder; all the other six coaches stop;
and their four-and-twenty horses flounder likewise: but merely for
company, and in sympathy with ours. Then the following
circumstances occur.
BLACK DRIVER (to the horses). ‘Hi!’
Nothing happens. Insides scream again.
BLACK DRIVER (to the horses). ‘Ho!’
Horses plunge, and splash the black driver.
GENTLEMAN INSIDE (looking out). ‘Why, what on airth –
Gentleman receives a variety of splashes and draws his head in
again, without finishing his question or waiting for an answer.
BLACK DRIVER (still to the horses). ‘Jiddy! Jiddy!’
Horses pull violently, drag the coach out of the hole, and draw it
up a bank; so steep, that the black driver’s legs fly up into the
air, and he goes back among the luggage on the roof. But he
immediately recovers himself, and cries (still to the horses),
‘Pill!’
No effect. On the contrary, the coach begins to roll back upon No.
2, which rolls back upon No. 3, which rolls back upon No. 4, and so
on, until No. 7 is heard to curse and swear, nearly a quarter of a
mile behind.
BLACK DRIVER (louder than before). ‘Pill!’
Horses make another struggle to get up the bank, and again the
coach rolls backward.
BLACK DRIVER (louder than before). ‘Pe-e-e-ill!’
Horses make a desperate struggle.
BLACK DRIVER (recovering spirits). ‘Hi, Jiddy, Jiddy, Pill!’
Horses make another effort.
BLACK DRIVER (with great vigour). ‘Ally Loo! Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy.
Pill. Ally Loo!’
Horses almost do it.
Page 91
Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
BLACK DRIVER (with his eyes starting out of his head). ‘Lee, den.
Lee, dere. Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy. Pill. Ally Loo. Lee-e-e-e-e!’
They run up the bank, and go down again on the other side at a
fearful pace. It is impossible to stop them, and at the bottom
there is a deep hollow, full of water. The coach rolls
frightfully. The insides scream. The mud and water fly about us.
The black driver dances like a madman. Suddenly we are all right
by some extraordinary means, and stop to breathe.
A black friend of the black driver is sitting on a fence. The
black driver recognises him by twirling his head round and round
like a harlequin, rolling his eyes, shrugging his shoulders, and
grinning from ear to ear. He stops short, turns to me, and says:
‘We shall get you through sa, like a fiddle, and hope a please you
when we get you through sa. Old ‘ooman at home sa:’ chuckling very
much. ‘Outside gentleman sa, he often remember old ‘ooman at home
sa,’ grinning again.
‘Ay ay, we’ll take care of the old woman. Don’t be afraid.’
The black driver grins again, but there is another hole, and beyond
that, another bank, close before us. So he stops short: cries (to
the horses again) ‘Easy. Easy den. Ease. Steady. Hi. Jiddy.
Pill. Ally. Loo,’ but never ‘Lee!’ until we are reduced to the
very last extremity, and are in the midst of difficulties,
extrication from which appears to be all but impossible.
And so we do the ten miles or thereabouts in two hours and a half;
breaking no bones, though bruising a great many; and in short
getting through the distance, ‘like a fiddle.’
This singular kind of coaching terminates at Fredericksburgh,
whence there is a railway to Richmond. The tract of country