perforce ride backwards, and the four are placed so as to stare directly at their opposite neighbors,—sometimes unpleasant, if all are not acquainted, especially at lunch time, &c. Then, in the English carriage, four persons only of the eight can get a fair view of the scenery, and two of these are riding backwards. These four "govern" the windows, and lower or close at their pleasure. I have been nearly smothered, as well as thoroughly chilled, by happening to have people of adverse temperaments get the window seats, till I learned how to travel by rail in England, of which, hints anon.

There are no means of heating the English railway carriage, and they are not tightly joined, especially the second-class ones. Hence the "railway rugs," &c., one hears so much about. But then, it must be confessed, the danger of the American stove renders it a rather unpopular affair. The second-class car is a plain, substantial carriage, and the larger portion of the passengers travel in it. The first-class car is more luxurious, upholstered more plentifully, supplied with racks for light baggage, and curtains at the windows. The English have not even reached the improvement of the sliding blind, which we have in America, so useful in excluding the sun's rays and admitting the air, the substitute being a flapping silk curtain. The second-class car has no curtain or shade to the window whatever. The absence of the signal rope is noticeable, and no man nowadays will remain in an English railway carriage, if one or two other men come in that he does not know. Is it not singular that so simple an arrangement as the signal rope to the engine driver should not have been applied, after all the murders, and assaults, and casualties, that have occurred on English railway trains, and proved its necessity?

Not at all. It is an American invention—a novelty. An Englishman does not believe in novelties, in innovations, or in American inventions. After he has tried every other thing he can think of as a substitute, and finds he can get nothing so simple and effectual, he will adopt it; and then it will be claimed as an English invention—invented by an Englishman; just as they claim the invention of the revolver, steamboat, and I don't know but the sewing-machine.

The English locomotives have no protection upon them for the engine-driver and fireman. These men are exposed, without shelter, and must have a rough time of it in bad weather. The "guard," who occupies the place of the American conductor, but by no means fills it, is always recognizable by his uniform; and at the stations, the numerous porters which it is necessary for the company to employ to handle baggage, owing to the absence of the check system, are also in uniform. These men are invariably civil, ready to serve, and understand their position and duties thoroughly.

On some of the English railroads that I travelled over, it seemed as though the only duty the company thought they had to perform, was to simply carry you over their road; and the ignorance of some of the under employés was positively amazing. Seated in the carriage, you might ride twenty miles past the station at which you wished to stop without knowing it, if you chanced to be on the off side.

There was no conductor to pass and repass through the train, to look out that you debarked at the proper station; no list of towns on the back of your railroad check; no shout of "Passengers for Chester! Chester!" when the train stopped; and the guard knew nothing of any other train except his own, or any other distance over the road, or of how to connect with any other train.

The passenger is left to himself, and is never told by the guard to "change cars here for ——." That, you have to know yourself, and look out and have the railway porter get your luggage (not baggage) off, or it will carried on, as they have no check system—another American affair, which it won't do to adopt too readily.

Luggage is weighed, and, beyond a certain amount, charged for; but any portmanteau one can get under the seat is free; and it is astonishing what big valises some men carry. And in the absence of the check system, this is, of course, the safest way.

Comparatively little luggage is lost or stolen. One reason why it is not stolen is, that there is a law here which punishes thieves, and does not allow them liberty for a stipulated sum, known as bail in America.

The price in the first-class carriage, on the fast or express trains, is about a third higher than the second. A third class is still cheaper. The parliamentary or slow trains have cheaper rates than the express.

The division of "classes" is, in many respects, an excellent arrangement. It affords to him who desires better accommodations, and has the means to pay for them, the opportunity of enjoying them; and it does not force the poor man, the laborer or emigrant, to ride in a richly upholstered carriage, where he feels he is out of place, when he would prefer to save his money, and have less gilding and upholstery.

One very soon finds, in England, the deference paid to class and to wealth, and nowhere sooner than on the railway train. It is presumed, on the expensive routes, that those riding in first-class carriages are "first-class" people, and the guard's manner to the passengers in the different carriages is an index of English education in this matter. As he appears at the window of the first-class carriage, he politely touches his hat:—

"All are for London in this compartment? Thank you."

To the second-class: "Tickets, please."

To the third-class: "Now, then, tickets. Look alive here, will you?"

The first-class passenger finds that his wants are better attended to, his questions answered deferentially; he is allowed to take almost any amount of small luggage into the car with him, much of which would be excluded from the second-class, if an attempt were made to carry it in. And O, the potency of the English shilling!

Each car seats eight; but we will suppose that there are a party of four travelling together, and desire no more passengers in the compartments. Call the guard to the window, put your hand in your pocket, looking him in the eye significantly. He will carelessly drop his own hand within the window opening inside the car. You drop a shilling in the hand. "This car is occupied."

"Quite so, sir."

Touching his hat, he locks the car door, and when other people come trying the door, he is conveniently out of the way, or informs the applicant, "Third carriage forward for London, sir," and by a dozen ingenious subterfuges keeps you free from strangers, so much that you betray yourself to him as an American by giving him another shilling at your journey's end; and, although smoking "is strictly forbidden in first-class carriages," a party of three or four smokers, by the judicious use of a couple of shillings, may have one all to themselves for that purpose.

The railway stations in England are very fine, and much superior to those in America, although we are improving ours, especially in the great cities. In the great English cities and towns, the stations are vast iron, glass-roofed structures, kept in excellent order. The waiting-rooms are divided into first, second, and third class, and the door opening upon the platform is not opened until a certain time before the train starts. Porters in uniform take the luggage to the train, and the "guard" who acts as conductor knows nothing about any railway train connections or line beyond his own. The passenger is supposed to know all that sort of thing, and he who "wants to know, you know," is at once recognized as an American.

The country stations are beautiful little rustic affairs, with gardens of roses and sweetbrier, honeysuckles