THE CITY OF MANCHESTER 201 



it, than later on by the long acclivity of Shap Fell, 

 leading towards Carlisle, or the dreary stretch of 

 moorland on the Sheffield road. 



Though, by the way, for dreariness, there was little 

 to beat the highroad to Shap, once clear of Kendal. 

 The hearts of the timid, going North from Manchester, 

 must have sunk within them as they found them- 

 selves, in the darkness of a winter's night, on the 

 rough lonesome hill two and a half miles long, lead- 

 ing over the Fell to the village and to Penrith ; and 

 many a passenger wished himself back in the com- 

 modious coffee-room of the Bridgwater Arms or safe 

 in the snug shelter of the Greyhound at Shap. 



It has always struck me, however, that the most 

 trying mail-coach journey the townsfolk of Manchester 

 had to encounter was that across the moors to 

 Sheffield ; not, of course, on account of length, but 

 of bleakness. 



After the coaching period, and when telegraphs 

 began to cover the island, the Magnetic Telegraph 

 Company carried a main trunk over the high ground 

 in a direct line between Manchester and Sheffield, 

 and the maintenance of the wires — especially in a 

 gale of wind or during frost and snow, was ever, as I 

 have been told, the severest duty which befell in- 

 spector or lineman. 



Eecently, a lady informed me that she, as a child 

 at school at Attercliffe, had four times a year to make 

 the journey of thirty-eight miles via Glossop, her 

 father putting her into the coach at Manchester, and 



