their skill at a new kind of steam-carriage. They
adopted a form of construction much lighter and
more portable than had before been tried. The
carriage was mounted on four wheels, the hinder
pair to bear the greater portion of the weight,
the front pair to be chiefly used to guide or
steer; the boiler and a horizontal cylinder
were placed at the back of the hind axle; then
there was a whole family of pistons, rods, cross-
pieces, guides, cranks, axles, toothed-wheels,
fly-wheels, levers, and breaks, too numerous to
mention. It was by far the most scientific
steam-carriage (locomotive was a word not then
in fashion) that had been devised. One of the
carriages so constructed ran experimentally on
a bit of road where the mighty Euston station
now stands—classical ground, we may call it, in
the history of steam.

A long pause then ensued. Roads were bad,
people were frightened, and a costly war
absorbed the general attention. Hardly anything
is to be found, during a period of twenty years,
bearing upon the use of steam-carriages on
common roads. Then, however, came forth
into light one Julius Griffiths, who employed
the redoubtable Bramah to construct the more
delicate parts of a new machine. It had two cylinders
and pistons instead of one; it had chains
and helical springs, to deaden the concussion of
the machinery; it had a tubular boiler, and many
novel and ingenious appliances. But whether
Griffiths had no money (Limited Liability
was not known in those days), or the public had
too much apathy, or the machine too many
defects, certain it is that nothing came of it. One
David Gordon, about forty years ago, asserted
that a locomotive (let us now use the term)
cannot ascend a hill without something to make the
wheels bite the ground: to overcome this
supposed difficulty, he contrived an extraordinary
carriage in which a steam-engine, put inside a
large iron drum, caused it to rotate, very much in
the same way as a squirrel makes his cage rotate;
the engine caused the drum to roll along the
ground, and the drum drew a carriage after it.
Very funny and very ingenious; but this steam-
squirrel died, and left no children. David must
have been an original genius, for he next
contrived a locomotive with six legs, which were to
help the wheels to get up hill. It must have been
very amusing to see this new insect taking its
walks abroad, with its six legs or vibrators,
having something like veritable knees and
insteps, alternately dangling and stretching. It
was really ingenious; but engineers found out,
about that time, that ordinary wheels would hold
to the ground firmly enough for the ascent of
any ordinarily steep road.

At about the period when the Liverpool and
Manchester Railway began to be seriously
considered, say forty years ago, the inventors of
road-locomotives cropped up in great abundance.
Mr. Goldsworthy Gurney, Mr. James, Mr.
Hancock, tried their skill; then Messrs. Burstal, and
Messrs. Summers and Ogle; then Mr. Heaton,
Dr. Church, and Colonel Macerone; then
Messrs. Dance and Field; then Mr. Scott Russell,
since become so famous in other departments
of engineering; then Mr. Hill, and Sir
James Anderson; and—well, let them be—we
need not mention the names of all who failed
in a period of fifteen or twenty years, despite
the ingenuity of their mechanical arrangements.
Several of the inventors produced steam-
carriages capable of maintaining an average
speed often or twelve miles an hour along
turnpike-roads, and even a higher speed for short
distances. Sir Charles Dance at one time resolved
to try Goldsworthy Gurney's locomotive as a
regular steam-stage-coach, to ply between
Gloucester and Cheltenham. It went four times a
day, doing the nine miles in a little under an
hour. But opposition was at work; somebody
laid down in a part of the road a layer of rough
stones so thick as to disable the machinery;
somebody laid turnpike tolls on the vehicle
so heavy, that the receipts could not meet them.
Mr. Gurney, not choosing to be beaten by local
prejudice, succeeded in getting the House of
Commons to inquire into the matter; the
report of the committee, presented in eighteen
hundred and thirty-one, was of a highly favourable
character. It declared that carriages can
be propelled by steam on common roads, at an
average rate of ten miles an hour; that they
can carry twelve or fourteen passengers each, at
this rate; that the weight, with engine, fuel,
water, and attendants, might be under three
tons; that they can ascend and descend steep
roads with facility; that they may be made free
from annoyance to the public; that they are
calculated to become speedier and cheaper than
vehicles drawn by horses; and that, as the
wheels have great breadth of tire, they will not
injure the roads so much as narrow wheels and
horses' feet.

The verdict was so good, that inventors
brightened up. An excited correspondent sent
to one of the journals an account of a journey
he made in Captain Ogle's steam-coach from
Oxford to Birmingham. " The starting from
Oxford was a grand spectacle. It was St. Giles's
fair-day; therefore, all the population, including
thousands from the surrounding villages,
thronged the streets, reminding the beholder of
the multitudes at Juggernaut; whilst the
ponderous machine, like that idol's car, appeared
ready to crush its votaries. Care was,
however, taken to make them understand the
danger; and a passage being cleared, away
went the splendid vehicle through Oxford city,
at the rate of ten miles an hour, which, when
clear of the houses, was accelerated to fourteen.
Notice of the intended journey having been
carried forward some days before, every town
presented an appearance somewhat similar; but
it was not until it reached Birmingham that real
assistance, as well as applause, was required;
and willingly was it granted. Just as the
vehicle was entering the town, the supply of
coke being exhausted, the steam dropped; and
the good people, on hearing the cause, flew to
the machine, and dragged it into the inn-yard
of the Hen and Chickens." This vehicle of