AMERICAN ROADS. 29 



In the middle, and bandaged up with string. And yet 

 he wears a low-crowned, broad-brimmed black hat, 

 faintly shadowing forth a kind of insane imitation of an 

 Eno-lish coachman ! 



" But somebody in authority cries 'Go ahead!' as 

 I am taking these observ^ations. The mail takes the 

 lead in a four-horse waggon, and all the coaches follow 

 in procession, headed by No. i. 



" By the way, whenever an Englishman would cry 

 ' All rio^ht ! ' an American cries ' Go ahead ! ' which 



O 



is somewhat expressive of the national character of 

 the two countries. 



" The first half-mile of the road is over bridges 

 made of loose planks laid across two parallel poles, 

 which tilt up as the wheels roll over them. The river 

 has a clayey bottom, and is full of holes, so that half 

 a horse is constantly disappearing unexpectedly, and 

 cannot be found again for some time. But we get 

 past even this, and come to the road itself, which is 

 a series of alternate swamps and gravel-pits. A 

 tremendous place is close before us, the black driver 

 rolls his eyes, screws his mouth up very round, and 

 looks straight between the two leaders, as if he were 

 saying, ' We have done this often before, but now I 

 think we shall have a smash.' He takes a rein in 

 each hand, jerks and pulls at both, and dances on the 

 splash-board with both feet (keeping his seat, of course) 

 like the late lamented Ducrow on his two fierv 

 coursers. We come to the spot, sink down in the 

 mire to the coach windows, tilt on one side at an angle 

 of 45°, and stick there. The insides scream dismally, 

 the coach stops, the horses flounder, all the other 

 six coaches stop, and their four-and-twenty horses 

 flounder likewise, but merely for company and in 



