a drum-head, the joints impervious to rain, and
unaffected by the extremes of heat or cold.
Meanwhile the "carriage-maker," the technical
name of the artisan who makes the underworks,
arranges the parts to which the springs and axles
are bolted, so that the body may hang square and
turn evenly with the horses, on the fore-carriage.
The coachsmith and spring-maker have also been
at work arranging the springs, the length and
strength of which must be nicely calculated to
the weight estimated to be carried. The ends
of these springs are filled with india-rubber, to
make the carriage run lightly and softly.

The best modern wheels are on the American
plan of two segments, instead of several short
curves. These, thanks to Mr. Bessemer, are
bound with steel tyres, and when bushed and
fitted with Collinge's excellent wrought-iron
axle-boxes, are ready to run a thousand miles.
In the shafts of four-wheeled carriages the
greatest modern improvement is the substitution
of wrought-iron hollow tubes for wood. The
iron shafts are much stronger, and cannot,
under any circumstances, injure the horse by
splintering. They can also, without loss of
strength, be made to assume the most graceful
curves.

The carriage -- call it a Brougham -- all the
minor metal-work being fitted, is now ready to
be turned over to the painters and trimmers.

The wood-work intended to be varnished is
"primed," then "filled up" with a coarse
metallic substance, and then rubbed down
with pumice-stone and water, to obtain the
beautiful enamelled surface which forms the
foundation for the colour and varnishes of the
resplendent panels. On this foundation in a
first-class Brougham, a builder who cares for his
reputation will lay twenty-four coats of paint
and varnish, and flat down each; therefore the
operation cannot be hurried, and time is an
element in producing a well-made, well-finished
carriage, which no expense can supersede.
Herald painter puts in the owner's crest or
monogram before the last coat of varnish is
laid on.

Improvements in glass manufacture have made
plate-glass carriage windows universal, and
circular fronted Broughams possible: while lamps
are much indebted to patent candle-makers for
their convenience and brilliancy. When finished,
although the best workmanship and the best
materials of every kind have been employed, and
the greatest pains taken in every detail, unless
the manufacturer have the gift of style and taste,
the work may be a failure. A good carriage should
combine the elements of strength, lightness, ease
and gracefulness, harmonious forms and colours,
and should roll smoothly and silently along. To
be sure, taste is a matter of fashion. The gilt
chariot of the City Sheriff was the height of
fashion in the days of the great Lord Chesterfield.
In the present day, " severe elegance" achieves
the greatest success.

The carriage ready for travelling, is incomplete
without a horse or horses, harness, and a
coachman; but these require and deserve another
chapter.

ABOARD THE PROMISED LAND.

THE "good ship" Promised Land really
deserved that praise. She was new, had made
only one voyage, in a remarkably short space of
time, was copper-fastened, two hundred tons
burden, was of course registered A 1 at Lloyd's,
and was now loading at the St. Winifred's
Docks. Many had read the enticing and almost
appetising advertisement, which had been in the
Times for many days, under heading of "Steam
to the Brazils," of the "spacious poop and after-
decks,"the airy and well-ventilated saloons,"
and the decks "flush from end to end, and
offering an agreeable and unobstructed
promenade," of the surgeon, who was "experienced,"
of the "fire-annihilator," which was
infallible, of the "water-condensing apparatus,"
and, above all, of that "Favourite" Captain,
Robert Magregor, who was "so well known on
the American station." This collection of nautical
blessings irresistibly induced me, when
appointed engineer for surveying a new line of
railway in the Brazils, to choose the new
"barque-rigged liner," the Promised Land, and
her Favourite Captain, Robert Magregor.

It was a long time, however, before the loading
was done, and the ship ready to drop down
the river. Meanwhile, the collected inducements
had had a favourable impression on
others besides myself, and on making some last
inquiries at the office before sailing, I found that
nearly all the berths had been taken up, and
that we were to sail with a full complement of
passengers and cargo. This was a very
agreeable prospect; for to a good sailor, and
before the novelty has worn off, a voyage is one
of the pleasantest incidents in life. At last a sort of
intimidating notice appeared, quite different
from the alluring tone of previous invitations:
all must be on board by a certain Thursday, and
by a certain hour, otherwise deposit, passage-
money, everything, would be forfeited. When
I punctually obeyed this mandate, sailors were
getting in casks of water, putting last touches
to the rigging, and shipping new sails that looked
like nautical table-linen. The sun was shining,
and there were Lascars and foreign sailors
in red jackets. The chatter of tongues was
very loud, and the whole had a Neapolitan
air. Above, on the paddle-box, was Captain
Magregor, that Favourite Captain, a surprisingly
young man for a Favourite Captain, but of a
stout bluff build, with sandy hair, and large fair
face, and a very Scotch accent, in which he gave
his orders. He seemed a good man of business.
We knew nothing of his seamanship then.
Firm, steady, and with a practical roughness,
by his exertions everybody and everything was
got on board; and by ten o'clock, a passenger,
who had already become nautical, came into
the saloon to announce that we were going to