ing roads. And I saw how the
travelers, messengers and inhabitants of the land asked, Where does
this road go to? and that? They were answered, From the south to
Faverolles, to the parish, to the city, to the river. Then hoisting
themselves on the proper road, without being otherwise troubled or
fatigued, they found themselves at their place of destination."

This fancy sketch, thrown off by an inveterate joker three hundred
years ago, is justified curiously by any of our modern railways; but
to see the picture represented in startling accuracy you should find
some busy "junction" among the coal-mountains. Here you may observe,
from your perch upon the hill, an assemblage of roads actively
reticulating and radiating, winding through the valleys, slinking off
misanthropically into a tunnel, or gayly parading away elbow-in-elbow
with the streams. These avenues, upon minute inspection, are seen to
be obviously moving: they are crawling and creeping with an unbroken
joint-work of black wagons, the rails hidden by their moving pavement,
and the road throughout advancing, foot by foot, into the distance.
It is hardly too fanciful--on seeing its covering slide away,
its switches swinging, its turn-tables revolving, its drawbridges
opening--to declare that such a road is an animal--an animal proving
its nature, according to Aristotle, by the power to move itself. Nor
is it at all censurable to ask of a road like this where it "goes to."

The notion of what Rabelais calls a "wayfaring way," a _chemin
cheminant_, came into our thoughts at Cumberland. But Cumberland was
not reached until after many miles of interesting travel along a route
remarkable for beauties, both natural and improved. A coal-distributor
is certain, in fact, to be a road full of attractions for the tourist;
for coal, that Sleeping Beauty of our era, always chooses a pretty bed
in which to perform its slumber of ages. The road which delivers
the Cumberland coal, however, is truly exceptional for splendor of
scenery, as well as for historical suggestiveness and engineering
science. It has recently become, by means of certain lavish
providences established for the blessing of travelers at every turn, a
tourist route and a holiday delight.

It is all very well for the traveler of the nineteenth century to
protest against the artificial and unromantic guidance of the railway:
he will find, after a little experience, that the homes of true
romance are discovered