pertness and civility, with his inquisitive eye, and the eccentric and perpetual gyrations of his fore finger, which ever and anon stiffens in a skyward point, as though under the magic influence of some unseen electro-biologist whose decree had gone forth—­“You can’t move your finger, sir, you can’t; no, you can’t.”  I have only one grudge against the omnibuses in New York—­and that is, their monopoly of Broadway, which would really have a very fine and imposing appearance were it not for them:  they destroy all the effect, and you gradually begin to think it is the Strand grown wider, despite of the magnificent palaces, hotels, &c., which adorn it on each side.

[Illustration:  A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.]

The last means of conveyance to be mentioned is the railway carriage, which—­the city being built on a perfect flat—­is admirably adapted for locomotion.  The rails are laid down in a broad avenue on each side of Broadway, and the cars are drawn by horses, some two, some four.  Those that are used for the simple town business have only two horses, and will hold about twenty-four passengers; the others run from the lower end of the town to a place where the engine is waiting for them outside.  The town railway-car may be called a long omnibus, low on the wheels, broad, airy, and clean inside, and, excessively convenient for getting in and out.  There is a break at both ends, one under the charge of Jehu, the other under the charge of the guard; so that, though trotting along at a good pace, they are very easily stopped.  When they get to the end of the journey, the horses change ends, thus avoiding the necessity of any turning, the space required for which would have made a great difference in the expense.  For a busy, bustling city, on a flat, it is unquestionably by far the best conveyance, on account of carrying so many, and being so handy for ingress and egress.

There was a strong push made to get one laid down in Broadway, and corporation jobbery had nearly succeeded.  For my own part, did I live in Broadway, if they would lay down a single line of rail, with shunters at intervals, to enable the cars to pass one another, and fix regular hours for running, I should infinitely prefer it to the unlimited army of omnibuses that now block up the street; but I fancy the interests of the latter are too deeply involved to be readily resigned.

Before leaving the subject of railway carriages, I may as well give you a description of the travelling cars in ordinary use.

They are forty-two feet long, nine and a half wide, from six to six and a half feet high, and carry from fifty to sixty passengers.  Each seat is three feet four inches long, placed at right angles to the window, and has a reversible back.  There is a passage through the centre of the car, between the rows of seats.  In winter, a stove is always burning in each carriage; and in one of them there is generally a small room partitioned off, containing a water-closet,