A PLEA FOR ANCIENT TOWNS AGAINST RAILWAYS.
It is impossible to look, without surprise, to the progress of the railway system since the first experiment in 1830. The Liverpool and Manchester line was opened in the September of that year, at an expense of £.1,200,000; and in the thirteen years since that period, line after line has been laid down and opened for traffic, till the completed railways amount to many hundred miles in length, and the expenditure of capital has been many millions of money.
The advantages of a line between Manchester and Liverpool were obvious. It connected the two towns—the importing and the manufacturing—which needed connexion the most; and, in fact, the harbour gained an enormous manufacturing population, and the population gained a harbour. The outlay, prodigious as it was, was found a profitable investment; but the benefits of the improvement were so great that the mere profits on the undertaking, as a pecuniary speculation, were lost sight of, in the higher view of the impetus given to the trade of these two main seats of our commercial enterprize. It became a national undertaking; Birmingham and the other wealthy towns were determined to have the same advantage; London became, of course, the great centre to which every new line tended; and in an incredibly short space of time, at an incredible expenditure of money, the iron and cotton emporiums of the north, the packet stations of the south and south-west, the agricultural and manufacturing districts of the north-east, all were moved into the actual neighbourhood of the capital. The beautiful Southampton water flowed within three hours of the Bank. Ipswich was not much further off than Hammersmith; and Bath and Bristol were but a morning's drive from Buckingham palace or Windsor.
What has been the effect of all these improvements, and to what do they all tend?
If the whole prosperity of a nation depended on rapidity of conveyance, there could be but one answer to the enquiry—but even in that case the prosperity must depend on rapidity of conveyance between the particular places which the railway unites—Manchester and Liverpool, Birmingham and London, and generally the great towns at the termini, and some throughout all of the intermediate stations, have cause to rejoice in the improvement. And land and houses in the neighbourhood have increased in value, their correspondence is conducted in half the time, and money is of course distributed in fertilizing rills by the crowds of travellers who pass through them on their way to join the train. But these advantages are local, and an opinion is now gaining ground that they are obtained at the expense of other places. What possible benefit can accrue to a town or neighbourhood near which the railway passes, but where there is no station? Can it encourage the trade of such a town as Dangley or Standon to know, that the five or six thousand beings who are whirled past them, with almost invisible rapidity, every day, arrive in Liverpool in ten hours after leaving London? On the contrary, is it not found to be directly injurious to them by the encouragement it gives to towns and villages more favourably situated; while their inns become deserted, their tradespeople are drifted out of the great stream of business, their turn-pikes are ruined, and grass grows in their streets. Let us take any one of the great lines, and see the number of towns whose ancient prosperity it has destroyed. From London to York a few years ago, ten or twelve coaches gave life and animation to all the places they passed through. Their hotels and commercial rooms were filled at every blowing of the guard's horn; tradespeople looked out from behind their counters with a smile, as, with a dart and rattle, the four thoroughbred greys pulled the well-known fast coach up the street, loaded inside and out. They became proud of their Tally-ho, or Phenomenon; they got their newspapers and parcels "with accuracy and despatch," and enjoyed the natural advantages of their situation. Now the case is altered; a two-horse coach, or perhaps an omnibus, jumbles occasionally to the railway station, and the traveller complains that it takes him longer time to go the ten or twelve miles across the country than all the rest of the journey. Then he grumbles at the inconvenience of changing his mode of conveyance, and only revisits the out-of-the-way place when he cannot avoid it.
A person settling in one of these towns twenty years ago, establishing trade, buying or building premises, in the belief that, however business may alter from other causes, his geographical position must, at all events, continue unchanged, must be as much astonished as was Macbeth at the migratory propensities of Birnam forest, when he perceives that towns a hundred miles down the road have actually walked between him and London; get their town parcels much earlier, and have digested and nearly forgotten their newspaper, while he is waiting in a fever of expectation to know whether rums is much riz or sugars is greatly fell. He calls for a branch railway to put him on equal terms; but a vast hill, perhaps, rises between him and the main line—it would cost forty thousands pounds a mile—he must bore an enormous tunnel, and fill up a prodigious valley, and the united wealth of all the shopkeepers in the town would fall far short of the required half million. He sinks down in sheer despair, or takes to drinking with the innkeeper, who has already had an attack of delirium tremens, gives up the Times newspaper for the Weekly Despatch, and thinks Mr Frost a much injured character, and Rebecca a Welsh Hampden. The railway has touched his pocket, and the iron has entered into his soul. He feels as if he lived at the Land's-End, or had emigrated to the back woods of America. All the world goes at a gallop, and he creeps. Finally, he is removed to Hanwell, and endeavours to persuade Dr Conolly that he is one of Stephenson's engines, and goes hissing and spurting in fierce imitation of Rapid or Infernal. And all this is the natural consequence of having settled in an ancient city inaccessible to rails. A list could easily be made out that would astonish any one who had not reflected on the subject before, of cities and towns which must yield up their relative rank to more aspiring neighbourhoods on whom the gods of steam and iron have smiled. It will be sufficient to point out a few instances in some of the main lines of mail-coach travelling, and see what their position is now.
Let us go to Lincoln, region of fens and enterprize, of fat land and jolly yeomen. The mail is just ready to start; we pay our fare, and, after seeing our luggage carefully deposited in the recesses of the boot, we mount beside the red-faced, much-becoated individual who is flickering his whip in idle listlessness on the box; the guard gives a triumphal shout on his short tin horn, the flickering of the whip ceases, the horses snort and paw, and finally, in a tempest of sound and a whirlwind of dust, we career onward from the Saracen's head, and watch the stepping of the stately team with pride and exultation—a hundred and forty miles before us, and thirteen hours on the road.
In fifty-five minutes we are at Barnet—pick up a stout gentleman and plethoric portmanteau in the green shades of Little Heath lane; and dashing through Hatfield, as if we were announcing Waterloo, change horses again at Stanborough. Away, away, the coach and we, with two very jolly fellows on the roof, and cross in due time the beautiful river Lea, scattering letter-bags at every gentleman's lodge as we pass, with a due proportion of fish-baskets and other diminutive parcels. Hedges, row after row, dance past us with all their leaves and blossoms—milestone after milestone is merrily left behind—we have crossed the Maran, the Joel; the sluggish Ouse, trotted gaily on under the shadow of the episcopal towers of Buckden, and perform wonders with a knife and fork, in the short space of twenty minutes, in the comfortable hotel at Stamford. Refreshed and invigorated with a couple of ducks and a vast goblet of home-brewed—for it is well known we and all other good subjects are rigid anti-Mathewsians—we continue our course through unnumbered villages and market towns, Coltersworth, Spittlegate, Ponton, Grantham, till Newark opens her hospitable gates; and finally, as "the shades of eve begin to fall," we descend from our proud eminence and commit ourselves to the tender attentions of a civil landlord, two waiters, and a stout chambermaid, in the chief inn of the good town of Lincoln.
Many coaches followed our track. Like the waves of the summer, as one rolled away, another as bright and as shining, came on. Every lane formed a "terminus," where a motion of the hand gave notice to the coachman that a passenger wished to get in; and it is impossible to doubt that the traffic along that smooth and wide highway was a source of prosperity to the whole neighbourhood.
The coaches are now off the road—the letters are carried by a mail train, and forwarded across in a high gig with red wheels, and the liveliness and bustle of all the villages and country towns are gone—a few more years, and the ruin of every turnpike trust in England will be another proof of the irresistible power of steam.
It is not contended that rapid intercommunication is an evil; or even that the towns we have mentioned, and hundreds of others, in all parts of the country, do not participate in the advantage, to the extent of being within a shorter distance of London than they were before; for it is evident, that to go to Lincoln would occupy less time if you went to Leicester by the railroad, and travelled the remaining miles by coach. But this is what we maintain—that towns or lines of road through which the railway runs, have an undue advantage—and that the prosperity so acquired, is at the expense of the towns which are not only at a distance from the new mode of communication, but are deprived of the old. Twelve years ago, upwards of a hundred coaches passed through Oxford in the four-and-twenty hours. We will be bound to say, not half a dozen pass through it now; and whatever the University may think upon the subject, it is certain that the alteration is of great detriment to the town, and makes little less difference to the Corn-market and High Street, than the turning the course of the Thames would do to Westminster and Wapping. Who is to keep the beautiful roads by Henley and High Wickham in repair? And who is to restore a value to the inns at the tidy comfortable towns along the line? Will the prosperity of Steveton bring back the gaieties of Tetsworth or Beaconsfield, and the numerous villages within an easy distance of the road? We repeat it—the towns which formerly enjoyed the natural advantages of their geographical position, are now deprived of them; they become subordinates instead of principals, and will sink more and more, as new competitors arise in the towns which will infallibly gather round every railway station.
In every county there are numbers of towns whose fate is sealed, unless some great effort is made to preserve their existence: Marlborough, Devizes, Hindon, Guildford, Farnham, Petersfield, the whole counties of Rutland and Dorset, and the greater part of Lincoln, besides hundreds, or probably thousands, of other places of inferior note.
But what is the effort that should be made, and how are the parties interested to bring their powers to bear in staving off the destruction that threatens them? It is to these points we are now about to address ourselves; and we trust, in spite of the lightness of some parts of this paper; the real weight of the subject will command the notice of all who feel anxious to benefit any neighbourhood in the position of some of those we have mentioned. And the attention of the trustees of high-roads throughout the kingdom is solicited to the following suggestions.
It is conceded on all hands, that where speed is required in draught, the horse cannot compete with mechanical power. At three miles an hour, the horse is the most perfect locomotive machine; but if his velocity be increased to ten, most of his power is consumed in moving himself. The average exertion in each horse in a four-horse heavy coach, is calculated by the author of the excellent Treatise on Draught, appended to the work published on the Horse by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, not to be equal to a strain of more than 62-1/2 lbs., and at twelve miles an hour to be barely 40 lbs. It is therefore useless to rely oh horse-power to enable a neighbourhood to retain its advantages in competition with a railway. To meet this difficulty many ingenious men turned their attention to the possibility of inventing a steam-engine applicable to common roads; and although, in several instances, their experiments succeeded, and many of the difficulties were overcome, still it is not to be denied that, on the whole, macadamized roads are not adapted to locomotive machines. Even when the road is in the best possible condition, the concussion is found so great as materially to interfere with the action of the machinery; and if the road be slightly muddy, or sandy, or newly gravelled, the draught will be double, or even treble what it is on the same road when free from dirt or dust. The author of the Treatise on Draught, accordingly, concludes against the use of steam-carriages on common roads, chiefly on account of their want of uniform hardness and smoothness, and the consequent wear and tear of the coach. "Perfection in a road," he says, "would be a plain, level, hard surface;" and in another passage—"Hardness, therefore, and consequently the absence of dust and dirt, which is easily crushed or displaced, is the grand desideratum in roads."
These opinions were published in 1831, and since that period the desideratum has been supplied. A method of preparing a road has been discovered, uniting all the qualities required for the perfection of a highway. We allude to the system recently introduced of paving a road with wood. On this smooth and hard surface a steam coach goes more easily than on iron rails, and the expense of laying it down is trifling in comparison.
At a meeting of the South-eastern Railway Company in July 1843, a branch line to Maidstone, ten miles in length, was proposed; and as the directors were satisfied it would be beneficial to the parent line, they determined to raise £.149,300, on loan notes or mortgage, to complete it. This gives an expenditure of £.15,000 a mile, and, judging from the estimate of other lines, the estimate is exceedingly low. For less than a third of the sum, the distance could have been laid down in wood without interfering with the traffic of the present road; for one great advantage of the proposed method consists in this, that by setting aside a portion of the present highway, where it is wide enough, or widening it a few feet where it is too narrow, the turnpike would derive a considerable income from the steam-coaches, and the traffic would continue in its accustomed channels. Where a portion of the road was set apart for the sole use of the steam-coaches, they could travel at a very considerable rate, and at a third of the expense of horse-power. And even if the wooden lines were laid down on the common road, with no exclusive barriers between them and other vehicles, a speed of fifteen or sixteen miles an hour could be maintained with perfect safety to themselves and the public. On the 27th of April last year, Mr Squire tried his steam-carriage in the streets of London, and ran along the macadamized part, then in fine condition, at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. On coming to the wooden pavement the difference was at once perceptible; and he pronounced that on such roads he should have no difficulty in keeping up a velocity of thirty miles an hour. In other respects, his carriage appeared to be perfect, and was guided with much greater facility than an ordinary coach.
This gentleman had run his carriage on common roads with great success; and the experiments made in 1831 had attracted so much notice, that a Parliamentary Committee was appointed in that year; and another in 1834, to examine into the subject. As the decision of these committees was eminently favourable, in spite of the difficulties, at that time generally thought insurmountable, arising from the nature of the highways to be travelled on, we shall quote some portion of their reports, from which it will be seen that all other difficulties were overcome.
Mr Goldsworthy Gurney, the first inventor of steam-coaches adapted for common roads, says in his evidence—
"I have always found the most perfect command in guiding these carriages. Suppose we were going at the rate of eight miles an hour, we could stop immediately. In case of emergency, we could instantly throw the steam on the reverse side of the piston, and stop within a few yards. The stop of the carriage is singular; it would be supposed that the momentum would carry it far forward, but it is not so; the steam brings it up gradually and safely, though rather suddenly—I would say within six or seven yards. On a declivity, we are well stored with apparatus: we have three different modes of dragging the carriage."
"You stated in your former evidence, that you anticipated that passengers would be carried at one-half the rate by your steam-carriages that they are by the common carriages; what difference in the ordinary expences of carriage would it make, if you had a paved road for this purpose?
"I think it would reduce the expense to one-half again."
"To what velocity could you increase your present rate of travelling with your engine?"
"I have stated that the velocity is limited by practical experience only; theoretically it is limited only by quantity of steam. Twelve miles, I think, we could keep up steadily, and run with great safety. The extreme rate that we have run, is between twenty and thirty miles an hour."
"What is the greatest number of passengers you have taken on that carriage?"
"Thirty-six passengers and their luggage. The greatest weight we could draw by that carriage, at the rate of ten miles an hour, is from forty to fifty hundred-weight. The greatest weight we ever drew on the common road, at a rate of from five to six miles an hour, was eleven tons. We made the experiment on the Bristol road. The weight of the drawing carriage was upwards of two tons; it drew five times its own weight. The eleven tons included the weight of the drawing carriage, and I did not consider that its maximum power."
In a very scientific and interesting Treatise on Locomotion, by Mr Alexander Gordon, a civil engineer of eminence, we find an account given of the trial of power alluded to by Mr Gurney. A pair of three feet wheels were used on the hind axle, and the engine drew with ease a large waggon loaded with cast-iron. After going about a mile and a quarter, a cart also loaded with cast-iron was attached to the waggon. The engine started with these loaded carriages, and returned to Gloucester. The additional weight made so little apparent difference to the engine, that on the way back several persons among the spectators got up and rode; the number altogether amounted to twenty-six. The united weight amounted to ten tons. Going into Gloucester, there is a rise of one foot in twenty, or twenty-five.
Two great objections were advanced by the opponents of the proposed innovation, which are most emphatically answered by the Report of the Committee of 1834. Even in 1831, the Committee reported as follows:—
"It has frequently been urged against these carriages, that wherever they may be introduced, they must effectually prevent all other travelling on the road, as no horse will bear the noise and smoke of the engine. The Committee believe that these statements are unfounded. Whatever noise may be complained of, arises from the present defective construction of the machinery, and will be corrected as the makers of such carriages gain greater experience. Admitting even that the present engines do work with some degree of noise, the effect on horses has been greatly exaggerated. All the witnesses accustomed to travel in these carriages, even in the crowded roads adjacent to the metropolis, have stated, that horses are very seldom frightened in passing."
But in 1834, the report is still more conclusive on this point. Mr
Macneil, a distinguished civil engineer, gives the following evidence:—
"At the time the Committee sat in 1831, I could speak as to having seen only one steam-carriage on a turnpike road, and as to the effect on horses that passed it on the road. From considerable experience since that time, I am quite certain, that in a very short period there will be no complaint of horses being frightened by steam-carriages. I do not know that I have seen more than two or three horses in all my experience, that were at all frightened by any of the carriages. I travelled with, and I have passed many times through some of the most crowded streets in London and in Birmingham, in steam-carriages. I have also seen horses out in the morning, led by grooms, which would in all probability be startled by any object at all likely to frighten a horse, and they did not take the least notice of the engine. At another time, several ladies passed on horseback without the least alarm, and some of them rode close after the carriage, and alongside of it, as long as they could keep up with it."
This evidence is corroborated by all the other witnesses; and great as the noise, and fearful as the horrid gasping of the engine may be, we are not prepared to say that terror may not as naturally be excited in the heart of the most gallant of Houyeneans by the thunder and glitter of a fast coach, rushing downhill at the rate of sixteen miles an hour. In fact, the horse that has ceased—like a young lady after her second season—to be shy, will care no more for a steam-engine than a tilted waggon. And it is decidedly our private and confidential opinion, from a long experience of vivacious roadsters, that a quadruped which maintains its equanimity on encountering a baker's cart with an awning, will face the noisiest and most vociferous of boilers. But granting that the committee is right in coming to this conclusion as far as regards the danger arising to horses, the other objection we alluded to was a poser, from which we shall be glad to see how they extricate themselves—we mean the injury done to the turnpike road. Why, it turns out that a steam-coach does no injury at all; but, from the necessity it is under to sport the widest and strongest of wheels, it acts as a sort of roller, and might pass for a deputy Macadam. Mr Macneil, who has had great experience in road surveying, says that, even in 1831, he had stated that, from the examination he had made as to the wear of iron in the shoes of horses, compared with the wear on the tire of the wheels of carriages, the injury done to the turnpike roads would be much less by steam-carriages than that done by mail and stage coaches drawn by horses. Since then, "I have had practical experience on this point, and have carefully examined the roads in different parts of the country where steam-carriages have been running, and I have every reason to believe the opinion I then gave was correct; indeed, I have not the least doubt in my mind, that if steam-carriages ran generally on the turnpike roads of the kingdom, one-half of the annual expense of the repairs of these roads would be saved."
It is supposed that the tolls throughout England are let for more than a million and a half a-year! A saving of one half in this enormous amount would fructify in the pockets (now remarkably in need of some process of the kind) of the public, to the entire satisfaction of Rebecca and all her daughters. And yet with this evidence, of perhaps the best practical authority on the subject, before their eyes, let us see what the wiseacres of certain rural districts did to encourage economy and inland transit. By means of a tremendous instrument of tyranny called a local act, (for which the Grand Sultan would be very glad to exchange his firman,) the road trustees of various neighbourhoods have laid an embargo on all steam carriages, by enacting intolerable payments. Thus on the Liverpool and Prescot road, a steam-carriage would be charged £.2, 8s.; while a loaded stage-coach would pay only four shillings! On the Bathgate road the same carriage would be charged £.1, 7s. 1d.; while a coach drawn by four horses would pay five shillings. On the Ashburnham and Totness road, steam would pay £.2; and a four-horse coach three shillings. And how did these sages settle the rates of payment? The reader would never guess, so we will tell him at once-they charged for each horse power as if the boiler contained a whole stud, all trampling the road to atoms with iron shoes; whereas they ought have let the broad-wheeled carriage go free, if, indeed, they were not called on to pay it a certain sum each journey for the benefit it did the highway.
Such was the evidence that led the committee to decide, in 1834, on the practicability, the safety, and economy of running steam-carriages on common roads. It will be sufficient to give a list of the witnesses examined, to show that the highest authorities were consulted before the report was framed. They were—
Mr Goldsworthy Gurney.
Walter Hancock.
John Farey, civil engineer.
Richard Trevethick.
Davies Gilbert, M.P., president of the Royal Society.
Nathanael Ogle.
Alexander Gordon, civil engineer.
Joseph Gibbs.
Thomas Telford, president of the Institution of Civil Engineers.
William A. Summers.
James Stone.
James Macadam, road surveyor.
John Macneil, civil engineer, and
Colonel Torrens, M.P.
Since the date of the last Report railways have run their titanic course; and whether from the opposition of wise road trustees, or a want of enterprise in steam-carriage proprietors, or from some other cause, steam locomotion on common roads has not made any progress. But, in spite of the powerful evidence we have quoted, we cannot conceal from ourselves that there was always an if or a but attached to the complete triumph of the new system. The if and the but, it will be seen, had reference to the nature of the road. Mr Macneil and the other able and scientific gentlemen examined, all concurred in calling for a vast improvement on the highways to be travelled on—"a smooth and well-dressed pavement"—"a hard pavement"—"a smooth pavement on a solid foundation"—they all agree in thinking indispensable to the complete triumph of steam. "If on the road," says Mr Macneil, "from London to Birmingham, there were a portion laid off on the side of the road for steam carriages, and if it be made in a solid manner, with pitching and well-broken granite, it would fall very little short of a railroad. It would be easy to fence it off from fifteen to twenty feet without injury to property." And a statement to the same effect was made in November 1833, to which the following names are appended:—
Thomas Telford, P.I.C.E.
John Rickman, commissioner for Highland roads and bridges.
C.W. Pasley, colonel royal engineers.
Bryan Donkin, manufacturing engineer.
T. Bramah, civil engineer.
James Simpson, manufacturing engineer.
John Thomas, civil engineer.
Joshua Field, manufacturing engineer.
John Macneil, civil engineer.
Alexander Gordon, civil engineer.
William Carpmael, civil engineer.
"There can be no doubt," say they, "that a well-constructed engine, a steam-carriage conveyance between London and Birmingham, at a velocity unattainable by horses, and limited only by safety, may be maintained; and it is our conviction that such a project might be undertaken with great advantage to the public, more particularly if, as might obviously be the case, without interfering with the general use of the road, a portion of it were to be prepared and kept in a state most suitable for travelling in locomotive steam-carriages."
But in this is the whole difficulty as far as regards the best granite road; for, supposing for a moment that all the other conditions were fulfilled—that it was hard and smooth—one great element is to be taken into consideration, from which no skill and science can exempt the best and firmest Macadam; and that is the effect of atmospheric changes on the surface of the road. The difference of tractive power in summer and winter must be immense, and the great disadvantage of mechanical, as compared with animal draught, is its want of adaptability to the exigencies of an ordinary road. A steam-carriage of ten horse power cannot under any circumstances, when it encounters a newly mended part of the road, or a softer soil, put forth an additional power for a minute or two, as a team of horses can do; so that equality of exertion is nearly indispensable for the full advantage of an engine. We accordingly find that the opponents of steam-travelling on common roads, gained their object by covering the highway with a coating of broken stones fourteen inches deep. Through this it was impossible to force the coach without such a strain as to displace or otherwise injure the machinery. But when a system of locomotion, containing so many advantages, has so nearly been brought to perfection, in spite of the many difficulties presented by the common modes of making a road, it would be inconceivable blindness in the parties interested in the subject to overlook the certain mode of success offered to them, by merely laying down a portion of the road in wood. Who those parties are we have already pointed out. They are the inhabitants and owners of property in towns and neighbourhoods at some distance from railway traffic; and if the proprietors of great lines of railway saw their own interest, they would be foremost in adopting the new method as an auxiliary, and not view it as a rival or an enemy. For it is very evident that nothing can be so beneficial to a railway already in operation as a branch line, by which a hitherto unopened district can be united to their stations. And the difference of expense between the two systems—namely, between an iron railway and a wooden pavement—is so great, that the latter is scarcely beyond the power of the poorest neighbourhood. An iron branch was at one time proposed between Steventon and Oxford. The same sum which would have been required for this purpose, according to the estimates, would have laid down an excellent road in wood from Steventon through Oxford to Rugby; thus connecting the three great arteries of the country—the Great Western, the Birmingham, and the Midland Counties Railways. It will be found that the great lines of railway have been forced, at an unavoidable and foreseen loss, to spread out minor or tributary lines, which, if the system of wood-paving had been in existence, might have been laid down at less than a third of the expense, and producing a proportionate profit. This view of the case has not been altogether neglected, for it has been dwelt on at some length in an able pamphlet on "the Use of Mechanical Power in Draught on Turnpike Roads, with reference to the new system of Wood Paving." It is evidently the work of a practical man, who has deeply studied the subject. "No part of the community," he says, "are likely to benefit so largely by the introduction of the new system as the holders of railway shares. For though, in all probability, the railroads would not have been constructed to their present extent had the virtues of wood paving been earlier known, yet it would be absurd to contend that the wooden road will ever be able to compete with the existing iron lines. The new principle, however, may be most usefully adopted by the railway companies themselves, in the formation of branches or tributary roads, the completion of which has hitherto entailed on them enormous expense unattended by corresponding benefits. The proposed system, at all events, is worth a trial by many other towns besides the one chosen for illustration by the author of the pamphlet. He fixes on Shrewsbury, a place already on the decline, and not likely to recover its former prosperity, unless it can establish steam communication with the great lines of railway at Wolverhampton. "But capitalists," he adds, "who see the small amount of dividend paid to their shareholders by the minor railways, can no longer be induced to embark their money in similar undertakings. Let a portion, however, of the noble, but now half-deserted, Holyhead road be paved with wood, and for a comparatively trifling cost of less than £.50,000, in six months from the present time steamers could be enabled to run along the entire line with safety, infinitely greater than, and speed almost equal to, that on the Birmingham Railway."
We feel sure that these considerations need only to be stated to have their due weight, and we shall be greatly surprised if an effort is not soon made to avoid the ruin impending over so many towns. Among others, the beautiful town of Salisbury should take an interest in this matter; for what can be more evident that she will fall rapidly to decay, if she cannot establish a steam communication with Southampton on one side, and Bath and Bristol on the other. Salisbury, above all other places, ought to know the value of a good road; for she has the fate of her elder sister Sarum before her eyes. Decay—disfranchisement—contempt will assuredly be her lot, if she allows herself to be treated in the same way as the venerable Sarum was in the days of her youth—for do not the antiquaries tell us what was the cause of Sarum's fall? It has, in fact, become so notorious, that it has even got into Topographical Dictionaries. "About this time," the reign of Edward the First, "Bishop Bridport built a bridge at Harnham, and thus changing the direction of the Great Western Road, which formerly passed through Old Sarum, that place was completely deserted, and Salisbury became one of the most flourishing cities of the kingdom."
The same will be recorded of her by future chroniclers, if she do not seize this opportunity of retrieving her possession of "the Great Western Road." "In the reign of Queen Victoria, a railroad being established at some distance from Salisbury, and the traffic being thus diverted from it, which once formed the great source of its prosperity, it became completely deserted; Shaftesbury, Sturminster, and Sherborne, shared in her ruin; and Swindon became one of the most flourishing places in the kingdom." We cannot think so meanly of our countrymen, as to suppose that they will yield like white-livered cravens, and die without a struggle; and in thus raising the voice of Maga to warn them of their danger, and instruct them how to avoid it, we consider that we are doing the state some service, and pointing out new means profitable employment for the capital of the rich, and the labour of the poor.
* * * * *