by an inclined plane, to the carriage standing on the Railway, close to the mouth of the tunnel. The pigs enjoy this right of road unmolested; and, in point of fact, step quietly out of their drawing-room into their vehicle, each as easily as an old dowager into her chair waiting in the vestibule."

The distance from Edge Hill to the Liverpool Station, in Lime Street, is traversed by an inclined plane, down which the train runs from the impetus of its own gravity. The whole of this space is through a tunnel, 2,230 yards long, 25 feet high, and 17 feet wide, the cost of which was £150,000. The train pauses a short time before it enters this subterraneous region, while the Firefly withdraws from the labour of its journey which is now accomplished, the lamps are lighted, and the propulsion is given towards the mouth of the cavern. The whole length of the tunnel is dimly lighted with gas; and as it passes underneath the streets of the town, these are severally indicated, as they are reached, by inscriptions traced upon the walls. A lurid and spectral glare diffuses itself throughout this vault, which has not unaptly been compared to the cave of the Baotian architect, from which many a timid traveller has emerged pale and dejected as the suppliants from that celebrated oracle. The passage occupies about five minutes, and the traveller once more opens his eyes to the cheerful daylight, and again breathes freely in the spacious area of Lime Street Station.

What a change has passed over the state of things! The silence of the "burying-vault," for the clamour of a thousand voices! Passengers projecting themselves from the snug enclosure of their carriages, right glad to reach again the terra firma of the ample esplanade. The parting nods, and hasty farewells of newly-made friends, with many a lingering look,

P

and furtive glance; passing porters and descending packages; carmen, cabmen, and omnibus drivers, with sundry mercantile peripatetics, vociferating their invitations, very much like what the Northern Enchanter has described the ancient streets of the metropolis in James's time, when the horologer's apprentice stood at his master's door, saluting the passers-by with "What do you lack?" "What do you lack?" The din ceases not till the traveller has escaped into his hostelrie, and loses his sense of the stirring events of the day in the quiet slumbers of the night.

CHAPTER VI.

"A lively Irishman, going from Liverpool, said he asked one of his friends who passed in another train, how d'ye do?' and before the answer could be spoken, one was at Manchester and the other at Liverpool."

MISS SINCLAIR'S HILL AND VALLEY.

THIS motto conveys an idea, and not an inaccurate one too, of the speed with which the journey between Manchester and Liverpool is sometimes performed on the Railway. It not unfrequently happens that the trains arrive at either terminus, a distance of 31 miles, in the short space of one hour; and such is the prodigious power that can be employed upon this line, that in a case of necessity, such as an embarkation of troops for a foreign station, a thousand soldiers have made the transit at one time,

The reader will now please to retrograde as far as Newton Junction, from whence the diverging line to Manchester commences, and follow the Comet from that station on to the Sandymain Embankment, at a very short distance from the starting point. On each side of the line is a young plantation of stately firs and garden-like shrubs which, but for the straightness of the avenue, would give it much the appearance of an approach to a domestic mansion. The various openings between the trees expose to view the beauties of a green and fertile country. On the left is the turnpike road to Wigan, skirting the western boundary of Haydock Park, which lies near to the line, and the little town of Newton; on the right, Winwick Church with its tapering spire and neighbouring

hamlets, and the high hills of Staffordshire in the distance. A short mile brings the train to Newton Bridge Station, distant from Liverpool sixteen miles. As the trains generally rest for a few minutes at this place, a convenient Hotel, and Postoffice have been erected, which stand on the right of the Railway. On the left is the Leigh Arms and spacious County Club Room, architecturally ornamented with Doric pillars and a terrace walk. The embankment at this point of the line is forty feet above the level of the road, and contains a handsome viaduct of four arches, each of thirty feet span, which clasps the little valley below. Beneath runs the road from Newton to Warrington, and hard by

"A willowy brook that turns a mill,"

with sundry cottage and hamlet roads, that wind like so many yellow threads among the tall, rich, green spreading trees, or follow the course of the noisy stream, forming one of the prettiest vignettes that is to be seen on the entire line.

Park Side Station is half a mile distant from Newton Bridge, and possesses an historical interest, from its being the place where that enlightened statesman, Mr. Huskisson, met with the accident which caused his death. During the stoppage which the train makes here to take in a supply of coke and water, he left the carriage, and another train running up with a speed, not appreciated in that early stage of Railway experience, he became confused and fell, and the wheels passed over his legs. He was taken to the neighbouring village of Eccles, in a carriage drawn by the Northumbrian Engine, and received into the house of the Rev. Mr. Blackburne, the benevolent vicar of that place, where, in a few minutes, after enduring much pain, he breathed his last. After his decease, his remains were removed to Liverpool, and buried in St. James's