We say wise,
because the competition of the Railway for goods, as well as passengers,
drove off the road not only all the coaches, on which, when light-loaded,
foot-sore travellers got an occasional lift, but all the variety of vans and
broad-wheeled waggons which afforded a slow but cheap conveyance between our
principal towns.

At the hour mentioned, the Railway passenger-yard is vacant, silent, and as
spotlessly clean as a Dutchman's kitchen; nothing is to be seen but a tall
soldier-like policeman in green, on watch under the wooden shed, and a few
sparrows industriously yet vainly trying to get breakfast from between the
closely packed paving-stones. How different from the fat debauched-looking
sparrows who throve upon the dirt and waste of the old coach yards!

It is so still, so open; the tall columns of the portico entrance look down
on you so grimly; the front of the booking-offices, in their garment of clean
stucco, look so primly respectable that you cannot help feeling ashamed of
yourself,--feeling as uncomfortable as when you have called too early on an
economically genteel couple, and been shown into a handsome drawing-room, on
a frosty day, without a fire. You cannot think of entering into a gossip
with the Railway guardian, for you remember that "sentinels on duty are not
allowed to talk," except to nursery maids.

Presently, hurrying on foot, a few passengers arrive; a servant-maid carrying
a big box, with the assistance of a little girl; a neat punctual-looking man,
probably a banker's clerk on furlough; and a couple of young fellows in
shaggy coats, smoking, who seem, by their red eyes and dirty hands, to have
made sure of being up early by not going to bed. A rattle announces the
first omnibus, with a pile of luggage outside and five inside passengers, two
commercial travellers, two who may be curates or schoolmasters, and a brown
man with a large sea-chest. At the quarter, the scene thickens; there are
few Hansoms, but some night cabs, a vast number of carts of all kinds, from
the costermonger's donkey to the dashing butcher's Whitechapel. There is
very little medium in parliamentary passengers about luggage, either they
have a cart-load or none at all. Children are very plentiful, and the
mothers are accompanied with large escorts of female relations, who keep
kissing and stuffing the children with real Gibraltar rock and gingerbread to
the last moment. Every now and then a well-dressed man