It is vastly amusing to look back upon the fears, doubts, and perverse opposition which attended the introduction of railways. Everywhere, railway companies-by far the greatest benefactors of the age-were the objects of plunder by landowners, who affected to believe that their properties would be greatly lowered in value, if not ruined, by the passage of lines. Except in a few instances in which amenity has been partially damaged and well paid for it now appears that estates are immensely benefited by being penetrated by railways; while to agriculturists and stock-farmers, the neighbourhood of railways is of first importance. Perhaps the most instructive fact of all connected with the first starting of railways in England, was the manner in which learned counsel' jeered at the idea of travelling by locomotive power. When in 1826 the scheme of the Manchester and Liverpool Railway was before a committee of the House of Commons; and when no greater speed than six miles an hour was finally contemplated by its engineer, George Stephenson; a person named Harrison, acting as counsel for the opponents of the line, immortalised himself by declaring that the locomotives could not go six miles an hour-no, not even four miles an hour; because wind, rain, or snow would effectually retard them; and in the attempt to conquer these obstacles the boiler would burst! * Such is a specimen of the trash uttered prophetically to stay one of the grandest of modern inventions. Fortunately these sinister prognostications proved unavailing. Railways began, and after having literally fought their way, are now the universally-established agency of transit. Up till the present time, about three hundred millions of capital have been expended on the railway-system of the United Kingdom; and the number of persons conveyed by this stupendous mechanism in the year 1850 was upwards of seventy millions. In the year 1851 the number will have been considerably greater.

*See an interesting work, Rides on Railways.'

Quick travelling, whether by land or sea, is now so common, and seems to take place so naturally, that it ceases to excite surprise. We fail to observe how it widens social intercourse, saves time and money, and everyway enlarges our comforts and resources. We are, in particular, not sufficiently thankful for having exchanged stage-coaches with their dirt, extortion, and vexatious delays, for the clean, roomy, and expeditious railway-carriage. But one can now afford to laugh at what has disappeared everywhere except in some unfortunate nooks of creation-the everlasting stoppages to change horses, and the not less frequent demands for money by coachmen and guards; the ill-prepared, highpriced, and hastily-eaten meals at inns on the road; the crew of drunken, ragged, and blear-eyed porters who beset you at starting and arrival; the close jam of arms and legs you were compelled to suffer; the children, big and little, dishonestly thrust in upon you, and squalling in your face; the bundle of musty straw in which your feet were plunged; the broken windows, and windows without straps for pulling up or letting down, &c. Such were some of the features of the old coaching-times. Gone they are, and deservedly. The transition from the Old to the New Travelling is a lift from barbarism to civilisation.

EXCURSION TO THE GREAT ST BERNARD.

WHILE visiting Switzerland in the summer of 1850, we were able to realise the long-anticipated pleasure of visiting the renowned Hospice on the top of the Great St Bernard-an Alpine height where one may be said to look into the north of Europe on the one side, and the south, with its sunny skies, on the other. It was about six o'clock in a very delightful morning when we started from Martigny to go upon this interesting excursion.

But whilst we have been feasting our eyes with the scenery, our civil landlord of La Poste, and his most perfect waiter, have been waiting to hand us into the certained char-a-bane which is to convey us to Liddes; after which mountain hamlet the road becomes impracticable for carriages, and we are to mount our mules. Our char-a-bane is guiltless of springs, and is in form not unlike a large bath, with a bench stretched lengthwise across it, which is lifted on wheels, in order that it may be drawn by the mule. We do not sit, as in our own conveyances, back or face to the horses, but sideways; and now, as the door is being violently slammed to, in the hopes that it will be jammed in-for lock there was none-our guide, who is at present our driver, shrugs his shoulders, and says something to the waiter; that worthy ejaculates, exclaims, tosses his hands on high, his napkin fluttering wildly, and then with streaming hair he rushes back to the hotel, followed more leisurely by his master. Both, however, immediately reappeared, laden with coats, cloaks, and mantles. In vain we remonstrate, or point to our own light, waterproof garments, or appeal to the glorious summer sky, or remind them that we shall be at the hospice before the close of the day. They know our wants far better; and so the heavy garments are stowed away under our feet, behind our backs, anywhere! Amid similes, and bows, and 'bon voyage,' off we set; Edward and I rattling, jolting, bumping up and down in our batte, and laughing so heartily, that our guide, seeing he had to do with merry souls, joined in chorus, cracked his long whip, shouting, 'Alii yip, Bardou,' to the mule, which fairly became excited, and drew us as never mule did before or afterwards.

The first part of our way lay through the usual character of Alpine scenery in its gentlest aspect; but soon we exchanged it for a ruder kind: plunging into narrow gorges, with rocks, some bare, some clad with pine forests frowning over our road, always a good one. At almost every turn, a waterfall-that 'laugh of the mountain '— leaped from some rocky chasm to join the impetuous

waters of the Drance-a river that cannot be said to flow, but rather to dash itself furiously onwards, from its rise in the mountain near the St Bernard, even to its less impeded progress in the valley by Martigny. The history of its inundation in 1818 is both appalling and interesting, from the heroic conduct of the men who bravely devoted themselves to stay as much as possible the devastating fury that would else have swept away whole villages. The immense fragments of rock embedded in its stream, and against which the water writhes and lashes itself into foam, are yet witnesses of the terrific occurrence; but at that time it was charged with ice, rocks, earth, trees, houses, cattle, and men,' borne upon its surface to destruction.

The pine forests that clothe some of the mountains do not wave in one heavy mass, but are broken into numberless forms, according to the varying surface of the soil whence they spring; whilst among their red trunks and dark branches, light and shade are ever most beautifully disporting.

Sometimes we passed clusters of Swiss cottages, or châlets, as they are termed, perched apparently on the very edge of a precipice; sometimes, from our own elevated pathway, we looked down upon them, dotting like dark specks the base of the mountain: ever and anon the music of the bells that are fastened round the necks of cattle that roam amid the high pastures came stealing upon our ears like music from fairyland.

Our road was anything but solitary, for both yesterday and to-day are kept as annual fêtes by the people; and three hundred peasants who had been to offer their devotions at the shrine of the Hospice of the Great St Bernard, and had slept at the convent the previous night, were now returning to their homes. Many had come from St Maurice, a town beyond Martigny. Their head-dress contrasted most ludicrously with the coarse and common gown, and kerchief pinned across the bosom: it consists of a narrow-rimmed black hat, that affords no protection to the eyes, and around whose

came much into fashion. Though wheeled vehicles of various kinds were in use among the ancients, the close carriage or coach is of modern invention. The word coach is Hungarian, and the vehicle itself is supposed to have originated in Hungary. Germany certainly appears to have taken the precedence of the nations of Western Europe in using coaches. They were introduced thence into England some time in the sixteenth century, but were, after all, so little in vogue throughout the whole reign of Elizabeth, that there is no trace of her having ever used one. Lord Grey de Wilton, who died in 1593, introduced a coach into Ireland, the first ever used in that country. One was introduced into Scotland about the year 1571. The Duke of Buckingham, in 1619, first used a coach with six horses-a piece of pomp which the Duke of Northumberland thought proper to ridicule by setting up one with eight. Charles I. was the first British sovereign who had a state-carriage. Although Henri IV. was killed in a coach-the only one, by the way, he possessed-his ordinary way of appearing in the streets of Paris was on horseback, with a large cloak strapped on behind, to be used in case of rain. It is very curious to find that the same sort of complaints now made by persons interested in coaching respecting the introduction of steam-locomotives, were made when coaches were introduced.

In a pamphlet called the 'Grand Concern of England explained,' published in 1673, the writer very gravely attempts to make out that the introduction of coaches was ruining the trade of England. The following is an example of his mode of reasoning:- Before the coaches were set up, travellers rode on horseback, and men had boots, spurs, saddles, bridles, saddle-cloths, and good riding-suits, coats and cloaks, stockings and hats, whereby the wool and leather of the kingdom were consumed. Besides, most gentlemen when they travelled on horseback used to ride with swords, belts, pistols, holsters, portmanteaus, and hat-cases, which in these coaches they have little or no occasion for. For when they rode on