provision is made for the formation and repair of
roads in England, is the statute known as the
twenty-eighth of Philip and Mary (about 1555).
The preamble to this statute describes the roads
as "tedious and noisome to travel on," and
dangerous to passengers and carriages. Under
its powers two surveyors of highways were to
be chosen annually in every parish, and the
inhabitants of all parishes were obliged, according
to their respective ability, to provide labourers,
carriages, tools, &c., for four days each year, to
work upon the roads under the direction of the
surveyors. Rude as this system was, it was considered
very perfect even up to the reign of Charles
the Second, when, owing to the increase of
carriages, particularly about London, it became
necessary to adopt a more effective plan, and the
toll system, therefore, made its first appearance.
This system, however, was not placed upon
anything like a solid footing, any more than the
roads were, until about 1767, when it was
extended to the great roads in all parts of the
country, while the contributions of labour, under
the old act, were confined to the cross or
country roads.

London was no better than the country in
these days, although "good and true scavengers"
were chosen annually in many of the
parishes, and it may date all its improvements
under foot to the Westminster Paving Act of
1762. The streets, at this time, were often
ditches, obstructed with stalls, sheds, sign-posts,
and various other projections. Each inhabitant
paved the space in front of his own door, according
to his fancy, or his means, and the result
generally was to give the passengers a foot way
of egg-shaped stones, such as we may now find
in the outskirts of Birmingham, Leicester, or
Nottingham. Those only who have walked a
few miles on these half-buried globes in not over-
thick boots, can realise the agony suffered by
our unfortunate forefathers. Kerb-stones were
unknown in London a century ago, and the
carriage-way was undivided from the footway,
except in a few of the principal streets, where
chained posts or wooden railings were fixed at
the side, as they are still fixed in some of the
old suburbs. A constant struggle was made by
the passengers to get the wall, as it was called,
and so avoid a little of the slush thrown up from
the gutter in the centre. The etiquette of the
wall was even laid down in books, and fixed in
that saying which gives that side to the weakest.
"In the last age," said Dr. Johnson, "when my
mother lived in London, there were two sets of
people, those who gave the wall, and those who
took it—the peaceable and the quarrelsome.
Now, it is fixed that every man keeps to the
right, or, if one is taking the wall, another yields
it, and it is never a dispute." Since that time
the rule has been changed, at least for drivers,
as we may learn pleasantly from the following
epigram:

The rule of the road is a paradox quite,
   In driving your carriage along;
If you go to the left you are sure to go right,
   If you go to the right you go wrong.

The plan for extending turnpike-roads from
London to distant parts of the country met with
the most violent protective opposition. A
certain Blandford waggoner, handed down in the
pages of anecdote, gave expression to the popular
opinion. "Roads," he said, "on'y be good for
wun thing—for waggon-drivin'. I on'y wunt
vour-foot width in a leane, an' arl the rest may
goo to the devil. The gentry ought to steay at
whoam, rot 'em, an' not run gossippin' oop and
deown the coontry."

This intelligent native knew exactly what he
was talking about, and was not out of tune with
his age. The counties in the neighbourhood of
London petitioned parliament against the
extension of turnpike-roads, on the ground that
the remoter counties would be able, from the
comparative cheapness of labour in them, to sell
their produce in London at a much lower rate
than they could do. They complained that their
rents would be reduced, and cultivation ruined
by the new system. The new system, however,
like many other reforms, was carried out in
spite of this narrow-minded opposition, and the
croakers woke up, in a few years afterwards, to
find themselves richer than ever.

The improvement of roads, when once begun,
proceeded rapidly enough, because good roads
helped, more than anything, to increase our
capital and population. It is a mistake to
suppose that our forefathers were more benighted
than we are, or that we have no men, like the
Blandford waggoner, thriving amongst us.
Mankind, we may feel pretty sure, always liked good
roads, good lights, good police, and all the
adjuncts of our well-advertised civilisation; but
they could only get these things by the force of
numbers. Roads, lights, and constables have to
be paid for by something like a poll-tax, and the
fewer the polls, the heavier the burden for each
individual.

Even now we could double our police without
feeling too secure in our "castles," but we are
held back from indulging in this luxury by
considering the rates. We often grumble that a
policeman can never be found when he is wanted,
by which we mean that these officers are not as
numerous as lamp-posts, but we forget that the
remedy is in our own hands, and that we can
have any number of constables if we choose to pay
for them.

It is almost impossible to take up any book
which deals with the last century, without
coming upon whole chapters describing the miseries
of travelling. People who had any state
appearance to keep up were the most unlucky of
all, for walking on the side-path was better than
riding on the rough flinty roads, and riding on
horseback was better than travelling in a carriage.
Dukes, lords, ambassadors, and persons
of dignity, were in a position like that in which
the Irishman found himself when the bottom of
his sedan-chair came out, which made him think
that he might as well walk, if it were not for
the look of the thing. Goods of all kinds in
Scotland were conveyed on horseback for speed
and cheapness; even oatmeal, coals, turf, straw,