MODERN TRAVELLING.

whose "backs are getting down instead of up in their work" some "that won't hold an ounce down hill, or draw an ounce up"-others "that kick over the pole me day, and over the bars the next," in short all the reproots, styled in the road slang bokickers, are sent to work these six miles because here they have nothing to do but to gal lop-not a pebble as big as a nutmeg on the road, and so even, that it would not disturb the equilibrium of a spir level.

MAY we be permitted to make a little demand on our readers' fancy, and suppose it possible, that a worthy old gentleman of this said year-1742-had fallen comfortably asleep à la Dodswell, and never awoke till Monday morning last in Piccadilly? "What coach, your honour ?" says a ruffian-looking fellow, much like what he might have been had he lived a hundred years back. "I wish to go home to Exeter," replies the old gentleman, mildly. "Just in time, your honour, here she comes-them there grey horses-where's your luggage ?" "Don't be in a hurry," observes the stranger; "that's a gentleman's car-sides, the luggage of the said ten, and a few extra package riage." "It ain't! I tell you," says the cad, "it's the Comet, and you must be as quick as lightning. Nolens volens, the remonstrating old gentleman is shoved into the Comet, by a cad at each elbow, having been three times assured his luggage is in the hind boot, and twice three times denied having ocular demonstration of the fact.

The coach, however, goes faster and faster over the h pital ground, as the "bokickers" feel their legs, and the collars get warm to their shoulders; and having ten ont.

besides on the roof, she rolls rather more than is pleaser, although the centre of gravity is pretty well kept down by four not slender insides, two well-laden boots, and three huge trunks in the slide. The gentleman of the last tury, however, becomes alarmed;-is sure the horses are running away with the coach-declares he perceives by the However, he is now seated-and, "What gentleman is shadow, that there is nobody on the box, and can see the going to drive us ?" is his first question to his fellow-pas- reins dangling about the horses' heels. He attempts sengers. "He is no gentleman, sir," says a person who look out of the window, but his fellow-traveller dissuades sits opposite to him, and who happens to be a proprietor of him from doing so :-" You may get a shot in your eye the coach. "He has been on the Comet ever since she start- from the wheel. Keep your head in the coach, its all ed, and is a very steady young man." "Pardon my ignor- right, depend on't. We always spring 'em over this stage." ance," replies the regenerated; "from the cleanliness of Persuasion is useless; for the horses increase their speet, his person, the neatness of his apparel, and the language he and the worthy old gentleman looks out. But what does made use of, I mistook him for some enthusiastic Bachelor he see? Death and destruction before his eyes?-No: to of Arts, wishing to become a charioteer after the manner of his surprise he finds the coachman firm at his post, and in the Illustrious Ancients." "You must have been long in the act of taking a pinch of sunff from the gentleman who foreign parts, sir," observes the proprietor. In five minutes sits beside him on the bench, his horses going at the rate or less, after this parley commenced, the wheels went round, of three miles in the minute at the time. "But suppose and in another five the coach arrived at Hyde Park gate; any thing should break, or a linch-pin should give y but long before it got there, the worthy gentleman of 1742 and let a wheel loose ?" is the next appeal to the comar(set down by his fellow-travellers for either a little cracked, nicative but not very consoling proprietor. "Nothing or an emigrant from the Backwoods of America) exclaimed, break, sir," is the reply: "all of the very best stuff; axle "What! off the stones already "You have never been trees of the best K. Q. iron, faggotted edgeways, wed on the stones," observes his neighbour on his right; "no bedded in the timbers; and as for linch-pins, we have not stones in London, now, sir," "But we are going at a great one about the coach. We use the best patent boxes that rate," exclaims again the stranger. "Oh no, sir," says are manufactured. In short, sir, you are as safe in it as af the proprietor "we never go fast over this stage. We have you were in your bed." "Bless me," exclaims the old time allowed in consequence of being subject to interrup-man, "what improvements! And the roads!!!" "They tions, and we make it up over the lower ground." Fiveand-thirty minutes, however, bring them to the noted town of Brentford. "Hah!" says the old man, becoming young again-"what, no improvement in this filthy place? Is old Brentford still here? a national disgrace!"

In five minutes under the hour the Comet arrives at Hounslow, to the great delight of our friend, who by this time waxed hungry, not having broken his fast before starting. "Just fifty-five minutes and thirty-seven seconds," says he, "from the time we left London !-wonderful travelling, gentlemen, to be sure, but much too fast to be safe. However, thank heaven, we are arrived at a goodlooking house; and now, waiter! I hope you have got breakf" Before the last syllable, however, of the word could be pronounced, the worthy old gentleman's head struck the back of the coach by a jerk, which he could not account for, (the fact was, three of the four fresh horses were bolters,) and the waiter, the inn, and indeed Hounslow itself, disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. Never did such a succession of doors, windows, and window-shutters pass so quickly in his review before and he hoped they might never do so again. Recovering, however, a little from his surprise-" My dear sir," said he, "you told me we were to change horses at Hounslow?" Surely, they are not so inhuman as to drive these poor animals another stage at this unmerciful rate!" "Change horses, sir! says the proprietor; "why we changed them whilst you were putting on your spectacles, and looking at your watch. Only

one minute allowed for it at Hounslow, and it is often done in fifty seconds by those nimble-fingered horse-keepers." "You astonish me—but really I do not like to go so fast." "Oh, sir, we always spring them over these six miles. It is what we call the hospital ground." This alarming phrase is presently interpreted; it intimates that horses

From the liveliest article in the last Quarterly Review.

are at perfection," says the proprietor; "no horse walks a
yard in this coach between London and Exeter-all t
ting ground now."
"A little galloping ground, I fear."
whispers the senior to himself!
"But who has effected l
this improvement in your paving ?" "An American
the name of M'Adam," was the reply" but coachmen call
him the Colossus of Roads.
Great things have likew -
been done in cutting through hills and altering the course
of roads; and it is no uncommon thing now-a-days to see
four horses trotting away merrily down hill on that very
ground where they formerly were seen walking up hill."
"And pray, my good sir, what sort of horses may you
have over the next stage ?"
"Oh, sir, no more bokickers.
It is hilly and severe ground, and requires cattle strong
staid. You'll see four as fine horses put to the coach at
Staines as you ever saw in a nobleman's carriage in your
life." "Then we shall have no more galloping-110
springing them as you term it "Not quite so fast over the
next ground," replied the proprietor; but he will make
good play over some part of it; for example, when he gets
three parts down a hill he lets them loose, and cheats them
out of half the one they have to ascend from the bottom of
it. In short, they are half way up it before a horse
touches his collar; and we must take every advantage with
such a fast coach as this, and one that loads so well, or we
should never keep our time. We are now to a minute; in
fact, the country people no longer look at the stom when
they want to set their clocks; they look only to the Comet.
But depend upon it, you are quite safe; we have nothing but
first-rate artists on this coach." "Artists! artists!" gum-
bles the old gentleman, "we had no such term as that."

more

next stage," resumes our ancient, for at the last it had the
"I should like to see this artist change horses at the
appearance of magic- Presto, Jack, and begone!""
all means; you will be much gratified. It is done with a

By

quickness and ease almost incredible to any one who has only read or heard of it; but use becomes second nature with us. Even in my younger days it was always half-anhour's work-sometimes more."

Our friend, however, will have no more of it. He quits the coach at Bagshot, congratulating himself on the safety of his limbs.

The worthy old gentleman is now shown into a room,
and, after warming his hands at the fire, rings the bell for
the waiter. A well-dressed person appears, whom he of
course takes for the landlord. "Pray, sir," says he, "have
you any slow coach down this road to-day ?"
Why, yes,
sir," replies John; "we shall have the Regulator down in
an hour."
"Just right," said our friend, "it will enable
me to break my fast, which I have not done to-day."
"Oh, sir," observes John, "these here fast drags be the
ruin of us. 'Tis all hurry scurry, and no gentleman has
time to have nothing on the road. What will you take,

sir? Mutton-chops, veal-cutlets, beaf-steaks?”
At the appointed time, the Regulator appears at the door.
It is a strong, well-built drag, painted what is called choco-
late colour; bedaubed all over with gilt letters-a bull's
head on the doors, a Saracen's head on the hind boot-and
drawn by four strapping horses, but it wants the neatness
of the other. The passengers may be, by a shade or two,
of a lower order than those who had gone forward with
the Comet; nor perhaps is the coachman quite so refined
as the one we have just taken leave of. He has not the
neat white hat, the clean doeskin gloves, the well-cut
trousers, and dapper frock, but still his appearance is re-

The coach arrives at Staines, and the ancient gentleman puts his intentions into effect,-though he was near being again too late; for by the time he could extract his hat from the netting that suspended it over his head, the leaders had been taken from their bars, and were walking up the yard towards their stables. On perceiving a fine, thorough-bred horse led towards the coach with a twitch fastened tightly to his nose, he exclaims, "Holloa, Mr. Horsekeeper! You are going to put an unruly horse in the coach." "What! this here oss?" growls the man; "the quietest hanimal alive, sir!" as he shoves him to the near side of the pole. At this moment, however, the coachman is heard to say, in somewhat of an under tone, "Mind what you are about, Bob; don't let him touch the roller-bolt." In thirty seconds more, they are off" the staid and steady team," so styled by the proprietor in the coach. "Let 'em go, and take care of yourselves," says the artist, so soon as he was firmly seated upon his box. With this, the near leader rears right on end, and if the rein had not been yielded to him at the instant, he would have fallen backwards on the head of the pole. The moment the twitch was taken from the nose of the thorough-bred near-wheeler, he drew himself back to the extent of his pole-chain-his fore-legs stretched out before him-spectable, and perhaps in the eyes of many, more in charand then, like a lion loosened from his toil, made a snatch at the coach that would have broken two pair of traces of 1742. A steady and good-whipped horse, however, his partner, started the coach himself, with a gentle touch of the thong, and away they went off together. But the thoroughbred one was very far from being comfortable; it was in vain that the coachman tried to sooth him with his voice, or stroked him with the crop of his tool, i. e. whip. He drew three parts of the coach, and cantered for the first mile, and when he did settle down to his trot, his snorting could be heard by the passengers, being as much as to say, "I was not born to be a slave." In fact, as the proprietor now observed, "he had been a fair plate horse in his time, but his temper was always queer."

acter with his calling. Neither has he the agility of the artist on the Comet, for he is nearly double his size; but he is a strong, powerful man, and might be called a pattern card of the heavy coachman of the present day-in other words, a man who drives a coach which carries sixteen passengers instead of fourteen, and is rated at eight miles in the hour instead of ten. "What room in the Regulator?" says our friend to the waiter, as he comes to announce its arrival. "Full inside, sir, and in front, but you'll have the backgammon board all to yourself, and your luggage is in the hind boot." "Backgammon board! Pray what's that? Do you not mean the basket?" "Oh no, sir," says John, smiling-"no such a thing on the road now. It is the hind-dickey, as some call it; where you'll be as com fortable as possible, and can sit with your back or your face to the coach, or both, if you like." "Ah, ah," continues the old gentleman; "something new again, I pre sume." However, the mystery is cleared up; the ladder is reared to the hind wheel, and the gentleman safely seated on the backgammon board.

After the first shock was over, the Conservative of the 18th century felt comfortable. The pace was considerably slower than it had been over the last stage, but he was unconscious of the reason for its being diminished. It was to accommodate the queer temper of the race-horse, who, if he had not been humoured at starting, would never have settled down to his trot, but have ruffled all the rest of the Before ascending to his place, our friend has cast his eye team. He was also surprised, if not pleased, at the quick on the team that is about to convey him to Hertford bridge, rate at which they were ascending hills which, in his time, the next stage on the great western road, and he perceives he should have been asked by the coachman to have walked it to be of a different stamp from that which he had seen up-but his pleasure was short-lived; the third hill they taken from the coach at Bagshot. It consisted of four descended, produced a return of his agony. This was what moderate-sized horses, full of power, and still fuller of conis termed on the road a long fall of ground, and the coach dition, but with a fair sprinkling of blood-in short, the rather pressed upon the horses. The temper of the race- eye of a judge would have discovered something about them horse became exhausted; breaking into a canter, he was of not very unlike galloping. "All right!" cried the guard, little use as a wheeler, and there was then nothing for it taking his key-bugle in his hand; and they proceeded up but a gallop. The leaders only wanted the signal; and the village, at a steady pace, to the tune of "Scots wha the point of the thong being thrown lightly over their backs, hae with Wallace bled," and continued at that pace for the they were off like an arrow out of a bow: but the rocking first five miles. "I am landed," thinks our friend to himself, of the coach was awful, and more particularly so to the Unluckily, however, for the humane and cautious old genpassengers on the roof. Nevertheless, she was not in dan- tlemen, even the Regulator was now to show tricks. Alger; the master-hand of the artist kept her in a direct line; though what now is called a slow coach, she is timed at and meeting the opposing ground, she steadied, and all was eight miles in the hour through a great extent of country, right. The newly-awakened gentleman, however, begins and must of course make play where she can, being strongly to grumble again." Pray, my good sir," says he anxious opposed by hills lower down the country, trifling as these lydo use your authority over your coachman, and insist hills are, no doubt, to what they once were. The Reguupon his putting the drag-chain on the wheel, when descend-lator, moreover, loads well, not only with passengers but ing the next hill." "I have no such authority," replies with luggage; and the last five miles of this stage, called the proprietor. "It is true, we are now drawn by my the Hertford-bridge flat, have the reputation of being the horses, but I cannot interfere with the driving of them." best five miles for a coach to be found at this time in Eng"But is he not your servant ?" "He is sir, but I con- land. The ground is firm, but elastic; the surface undutract to work the coach so many miles in so many hours,lating, and therefore favourable to draught; always dry, and he engages to drive it, and each is subject to a fine if the time be not kept on the road. On so fast a coach as this, every advantage must be taken, and if we were to drag down such hills as these, we should never reach Exeter today."

not a shrub being near it ; nor is there a stone upon it much larger than a marble. These advantages, then, are not lost to the Regulator, or made use of without sore discomposure to the solitary tenant of her backgammon board.

THE

AND

EDINBURGH WEEKLY MAGAZINE.

CONDUCTED BY JOHN JOHNSTONE.

THE SCHOOLMASTER IS ABROAD.-LORD BROUGHAM.

No. 28.-VOL. II. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1833. PRICE THREE-HALFPENCE.

NOTES OF THE MONTH.

FEBRUARY.

and burn-sides, where the catkins of the saughs, and the flower-buds of the alder and hazel begin to peer forth; and where the blossoming whin re

EVERY month of the year has its peculiar charac-gales us with its early perfume, and displays the ter, and none preserves it more distinctively than February. The weather is generally, in the beginning of the month, blustering and rainy, fully verifying the adage, that

"February fills the dyke

Either with black or white."

In the application of these weather-wise old saws, it should be borne in mind that they suit the old Calendar, which varies about a fortnight from the NEW STYLE. This premised, they will be found nearly infallible. By the middle of February, (its commencement by the Old Style,) the weather shews many symptoms of relenting from the rigid severity of mid-winter. The days have greatly lengthened, the morning sun becomes powerful, and though the weather is gusty and rough, often attended with sudden thaws, and short, though heavy falls of snow, the temperature is generally mild. There often also occur a few delicious days of truly vernal mildness. Another ancestral saying teaches us to distrust this premature mildness; and it rarely fails to hold :

"Candlemas, gin ye be fair,

The half o' the winter's to come and mair;
Candlemas, gin ye be foul,

The half o' the winter is gone at Yule."

first wild blossoms of the year. In such situations, and at this time of the year, young people may most fitly be made acquainted with one of the most numerous and lovely classes of plants -the mosses, now in their prime, and often made more exquisitely beautiful by the delicate icy efflorescence which veils them. Reckoning by the Old Style, as we would always be understood to do in noticing the natural appearances of the year, we may mention, that by the 1st, (that is the 12th,) the note of the woodlark is heard;ravens have paired, and are building;-partridges begin to pair;-the thrush and the chaffinch sing;

bullfinches re-appear in the orchards;-sparrows begin to build, and, on a fine day, gnats, and "the gay motes that people the sunbeams," play; and innumerable insects awaken to happy existence under the budding hedge-rows. Geese now begin to lay, house-pigeons have young broods, the mole,

"The little blackamoor pioneer,

Plodding his way in the darkness drear," is as busy under ground, as the myriads of gay ephemeral creatures are full of enjoyment on the surface of the earth.

"It is," says Paley, "a happy world after all. The

The English have their own version of the same air, the earth, the water, teem with delighted existence. saying:

"If Candlemas be fair and bright,

Winter will have another flight."

In a spring noon, or a summer evening, on whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my view. "The insect youth are on the wing." Swarms of new-born flies are trying their pinions in the air. Their But whatever be the actual weather, by old Can-sportive motions, their wanton mazes, their gratuitous acdlemas day, it is visible, by a hundred delightful signs, that nature is once more alive and spring. ing. There is, accordingly, no season in which a rural walk in a proper direction affords more of hopeful enjoyment. To the inhabitants of cities, a walk in a flower nursery-ground is now peculiarly delightful, and one's own small border is never so interesting as when the first pale snow-drop, the deep-golden crocus, the various-coloured hepaticas, and the bloom of the mezereon are our sole treasures-few, but the more fondly noted.

About this season one likes to escape from the monotonous, deep verdure of formal shrubberies, so delightful in winter, to the sheltered baulks

tivity, their continual change of place without use or pur-
pose, testify their joy, and the exultation which they feel in
their lately-discovered faculties. A bee amongst the flowers
in Spring, is one of the most cheerful objects that can be
looked upon.
Its life appears to be all enjoyment; so busy,
and so pleased, yet it is only a specimen of insect life,
with which, by reason of the animal being half domesti-
cated, we happen to be better acquainted than we are with
that of others.

"Other species are running about, with an alacrity in their motions, which carries with it every mark of pleasure. Large patches of ground are sometimes half covered with these brisk and sprightly natures. If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the mar gins of rivers, of lakes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy, that they know not what to do with themselves Their attitudes, their vivacity, their leaps out of the water,

their frolics in it, (which I have noticed a thousand times with equal attention and amusement,) all conduce to show their excess of spirits, and are simply the effects of that excess."

PROCESS OF VEGETATION IN TREES.

ly speaking, is rather a bundle of a multitude of annual plants, than an individual which lives for many years. The sap in trees always rises as soon as the frost is abated ; and if by any means the sap is prevented from ascending at the proper time, the tree infallibly perishes."

OLD HOLYDAYS.

February had its full complement of holydays by the old Calender; and a few still maintain a lingering shorn observance. Mechanics have their CANDLE FEAST, Schoolboys Shrove-tide; for though

Early in February, the influence of the genial weather is perceived in the ascent of the sap in trees. This blood of vegetable life now begins to stir in all their ramifications. In Aiken's Natu.. ral History of the year we have a minute account of their process, from which the following is in sub-cock-fighting is nearly exploded, happily neither stance taken :

pancakes nor fritters are obsolete. The ladies of Edinburgh still do unconscious homage to the ear. nival customs, by always holding one of their most splendid assemblies on Fastern's Eve; and lovers and friends have St. Valentine's day,—the flower of February days, to describe which aright would occupy our entire pages.

CANDLEMAS DAY.

"The first vital operation in trees, after the frost is moderated, and the earth sufficiently thawed, is the ascent of the sap, which is taken up by the small vessels or tubes composing the inner bark of the tree, and reaching to the extremity of the fibres at the roots; the water thus taken in by the roots is there mixed with a quantity of sugary matter, and formed into sap, whence it is distributed in great abundance to every bud. The amazing quantity of sweet liquid sap thus provided by nature for the nourishment of some trees, is evident from a general custom in some countries, of There is one Scottish custom we would think tapping the birch in the early part of Spring; thus obtainmore honoured in the breach than the observance. ing from each tree a quart or more of liquor, according to its size, which is fermented into a kind of wine. The same By the 2d of February, warning must, by prescrimethod is also practised in hot countries, to procure the fa-bed usage, be given to house proprietors by tenvourite liquor of the inhabitants, palm-wine; and a similar custom is observed in the northern parts of America, with regard to the sugar-maple, the juice of which, boiled down, yields a rich sugar, each tree affording about three pounds. This great quantity of nourishment causes the bud to swell, to break through its covering, and to spread into blossoms, or lengthen into a shoot bearing leaves. This is the first process, and properly speaking, is all that belongs to the springing or lengthening of trees; and in many plants, particularly those which are annual, or fall every year, there is no other process; the plant sucks in juices from the earth, and in proportion to the quantity of these juices, increases in size: it spreads out its blossoms, perfects its fruit, and, when the ground is incapable, by drought or frost, of yielding any more moisture, or when the vessels of the plant are not able to draw it up, the plant perishes. But in trees, though the beginning and end of the first process are exactly similar to what takes place in vegetables, yet there is a second process, which, at the same time that it adds to their bulk, enables them to endure and go on increasing through many years.

ants intending to remove; and till the 25th of May, nearly four months, or a thind part of the whole year, our 'dwelling' is liable to the daily and hourly incursions of the curious, and the regular house hirers as well as those wishing to inspect a house on legitimate motives. This is an intolerable nuisance, which should be put under proper regulation in the new police-bill for this city, and reformed throughout all Scotland. In some towns the notice to quit is given so early as Martinmas, so that for half the year one's privacy is apt to be continually invaded if the house remain so long unlet.

BOOKS OF THE MONTH.

THE most important new work within our popular range of literature is Stuart's Three Years in America, which we have already introduced to our readers. It is a book to be anxiously borrowed, and bought by those who have plenty of money. It is cheap for its size, but might be diminished in volume without any deterioration of quality.

BIOGRAPHIES,

"The second process begins soon after the first, in this way: At the base of the foot-stalk of each leaf, a small bud is gradually formed; but the small vessels of the leaf, having exhausted themselves in forming the bud, are unable to bring it nearer to maturity: in this state it exactly resembles a seed, containing within it the rudiments of vegetation, but without vessels to nourish and enlarge the seed. Being surrounded, however, by sap, like a seed in moist earth, it is in a proper situation for growing; the influence of the sun sets in motion the juices of the bud and of the seed, and the first operation in both of them is to send down The last few weeks have produced Lives of oots to a certain depth into the ground, for the purpose of MILTON, COWPER, and of ROBERT HALL. The first obtaining the necessary moisture. The bud, accordingly, is of interest, from giving a fuller account of Milshoots down its roots upon the inner bark of the tree, till ton's prose works than is found in the common they reach the part covered by the earth. Winter now arriving, the cold and want of moisture, owing to the clogged biographies. The writer, also, so far as his lights condition of the vessels, cause the fruit and leaves to fall, serve, discovers a just appreciation and profound so that, except the buds with roots, the remainder of the reverence for Milton, the bold questioner, the feartree, like an annual plant, is entirely dead: the leaves, the flowers and fruit are gone, and what was the inner bark is less reasoner, the undaunted reformer, the noblest no longer in its usual state, while the roots of the buds form literary name of England; yet would he fain press a new inner bark; and thus the buds with their roots con- the expansive mind of Milton into the service of tain all that remains alive of the whole tree. It is owing a sect. The author is, we believe, a Baptist to this annual renewing of the inner bark, that the tree in- preacher. The new life of Cowper is written by the creases in bulk; and a new coating being added every year, Rev. Mr. Taylor. It aspires to nothing further than we are hence furnished with an easy and exact method of finding the age of a tree, by counting the number of circles being a careful compilation. It is a bandsome of which the trunk is composed. A tree, therefore, proper-volume, such as many people like to see in their