SILENT MONITORS. 23 



tops, and the network of wires that carry the 

 unspoken messages w^e cannot hear, and of 

 which they could not dream any more than 

 they could imagine communication with the 

 isolated stars, which may be a reality sixty-five 

 years hence for the boy of seven years who 

 now travels in the cars. 



The telegraph poles and wires were as serv- 

 iceable to me as were the " walls of stone and 

 fences" to Long Tom Coffin. I could not 

 well miss my road to Norwalk where I passed 

 the first night, and to New Haven, my second 

 resting-place. On the third day, from New 

 Haven to Hartford I had the same guidance, 

 but the road was of a character entirely differ- 

 ent. 



Were it not for those silent monitors, the 

 gray forefathers of Connecticut might, if they 

 could arise from their graves, walk almost from 

 end to end of this old turnpike of thirty-six 

 miles, connecting the former rival capitals of 

 their State^ without perceiving even a shadow 

 of change. Perhaps the house-s by the wayside 

 may have grown older, but they look as if they 

 never could have been new. Their paint has 

 not worn off, for painted they never were. 

 They are not enclosed by *' stones themselves 



