150 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



we dare stand, fearing that a carriage, or 

 a boiler, or a baggage chest might come 

 flying over us. It is true that one stands 

 safely enough on a projecting balcony; 

 the carriages we are to enter are drawn 

 up in a row quite close to it, like gondo- 

 las by the side of a quay, but down in the 

 yard the one rail crosses the other like 

 magic ties invented by human skill : to these 

 ties our magic car should confine itself, for 

 if it come out of them, life and limb are 

 at stake. I gazed at these waggons, at the 

 locomotives, at loose baggage waggons, and 

 Goodness knows what; they ran amongst 

 each other as in a fairy world. Everything 

 seemed to have legs; and then the steam 

 and the noise, united with the crowding 

 to get a place, the smell of tallow, the 

 regular ^ movement of the machinery, and 

 the whistling, snorting, and snuffing of the 

 steam as it was blown off, increased the 

 impression ; and when one is here for the 

 first time, one thinks of overturnings, of 

 breaking arms and legs, of being blown 

 into the air, or crushed to death by another 

 train ; but I believe it is only the first time 

 one thinks of all this.* The train formed 

 three divisions : the first two were comfor- 

 tably closed carriages, quite like our dili- 

 gences, only that they were much broader ; 

 the third was open, and incredibly cheap, so 

 that even the poorest peasant is enabled to 

 travel by it ; it is much cheaper for him than 

 if he were to walk all the distance, and refresh 

 himself at the alehouse, or lodge on the 

 journey. 



The signal -whistle sounds, but it does not 

 sound well ; it bears no small resemblance to 

 the pig's dying song, when the knife passes 

 through its throat. We get into the most 

 comfortable carriage, the guard locks the 

 door and takes the key; but we can let the 

 window down, and enjoy the fresh air, with- 

 out being in danger of suffocation ; we are 

 just the same here as in another carriage, 

 only more at ease : we can rest ourselves, if 

 we have made a fatiguing journey shortly 

 before. The first sensation is that of a very 

 gentle motion in the carriages, and then the 

 chains are attached which bind them toge- 

 ther. The steam-whistle sounds again, and 

 we move on; at first but slowly, as if a 

 child's hand drew a little carriage. The 

 speed increases imperceptibly, but you read 

 in your book, look at your map, and as yet 

 do not rightly know at what speed you are 

 going, for the train glides on like a sledge 

 over the level snow-field. You look out of 

 the window, and discover that you are 



* We are obliged to be always thinking of this 

 now, in England. Accidents by railways are in- 

 deed quite common occurrences now. The loss 

 of a leg, an arm, or a head, is called — 'nothing !' 

 Ed. K. J. 



careering away as with horses at full gallop ; 

 it goes still quicker; you seem to fly; but 

 here is no shaking, no suffocation: nothing 

 of what you anticipated would be unpleasant. 

 What was that red thing which darted 

 like lightning close past us ? It was one of 

 the watchmen, who stood there with his flag. 

 Only look out, and the nearest ten or twenty 

 yards you see is a field, which looks like a 

 rapid stream ; grass and plants run into each 

 other. We have an idea of standing outside 

 the globe, and seeing it turn round ; it pains 

 the eye to keep it fixed for a long time in the 

 same direction. This is just the way to 

 travel through flat countries ! It is as if 

 town lay close to town; now comes one, then 

 another. One can imagine the flight of birds 

 of passage, — they must leave towns behind 

 them thus. Those who drive in carriages on 

 the bye-roads seem to stand still ; the horses 

 appear to lift their feet, but to put them 

 down again in the same place — and so we 

 pass them. Every moment one is at a fresh 

 station, where the passengers are set down, 

 and others taken up. The speed of the 

 whole journey is thus diminished : we stop a 

 minute, and the waiter gives us refreshments 

 through the open window, light or solid, just 

 as we please. Roasted pigeons literally fly 

 into one's mouth for payment, and then we 

 hurry off, chatter with our neighbor, read a 

 book, or cast an eye on nature without, 

 where a herd of cows turn themselves round 

 with astonishment, or some horses tear 

 themselves loose from the tether, and gallop 

 away, because they see that twenty car- 

 riages can be drawn without their assist- 

 ance, and even quicker than if they should 

 have to draw them, — and then we are again 

 suddenly under a roof, where the train stops. 

 We have come seventy miles in three hours, 

 and are now in Leipsic. For four hours after 

 on the same day, it again proceeds the same 

 distance in the same time, but through moun- 

 tains and over rivers ; and then we are in 

 Dresden. 



I have heard many say that on a railroad 

 all the poetry of travelling is lost, and that 

 we lose sight of the beautiful and interesting. 

 As to the last part of this remark, I can 

 only say that every one is free to stay at 

 whatever station he chooses, and look about 

 him until the next train arrives ; and as to 

 all the poetry of travelling being lost, I am 

 quite of the contrary opinion. It is in the 

 narrow, close-packed diligences that poetry 

 vanishes : we become dull, we are plagued 

 with heat and dust in the best season of the 

 year, and in winter, by bad heavy roads ; 

 we do not see nature itself in a wider extent, 

 but in longer draughts than in a railway car- 

 riage. Oh, what a noble and great achieve- 

 ment of the mind is this production ! We 

 feel ourselves as powerful as the sorcerers of 



