country to the foot as they have opened it to the eye of the traveller. He may see the morning sun gilding the young wheat on the field of Bannockburn, and he may watch the sunset of the same spring day from Cæsar's Tower at Kenilworth. But his step may not so readily intrude upon the repose of many a pleasant hamlet within sight of the flashing train. And many a child of those hamlets grows up regarding the railway train as he regards the squire's house or the squire's coach—a thing with which he has nothing to do, and which it is part of his lot to look upon from a distance. It is, perhaps, several miles to the nearest station, and a journey of several miles which lies out of his yearly round of occupation is a serious undertaking. The chance wayfarers who looked in upon the village from the old turnpike road were more numerous than the "pilgrims of nature" in the great stream of life ever rushing past, who find occasion to diverge from their course between the great centres of life and trade.
Having left England when only two railways were in operation, I returned to my native country with the impression I had carried away, that the beautiful forms of country life would be all defaced
