THE RAILWAY.
In few things has there been more remarkable evolution, or we might even say, revolution, than in our methods of locomotion. In these days of historic pageants we might well conceive of a series of scenes passing before us, shewing the means adopted at different periods, or under different conditions, in this respect. The war-chariot of Queen Boadicea, charging the legions of Cæsar, or (in our own neighbourhood) that of the British warrior Raengeires, routing his Saxon foes, at Tetford, with their wheels of solid wood and other massive carpentry, would form a, then inconceivable, contrast to the future taximeter cab, to be evolved in this 20th century.
The lumbering "wain" of the Saxon churl, though still surviving in the name of a constellation, befitted only an age little advanced beyond barbarism.
The primitive "shout" (Dutch "schuyt"), or "dug-out" boat, hollowed by Celtic flint-axe from the bole of a mighty oak, and slowly propelled by the almost wild Girvian, through the tangle of fen morass, had but a remote connection with the steam packet which, within living memory, plied on the neighbouring Witham, between Boston and Lincoln. Although the speed of the latter was so slow, that (as a friend of the writer has done) a pedestrian, travelling by road, could reach either of those places, from our town of Horncastle, in less time than it took to go by carrier's van to Kirkstead wharf, and thence by the said steamer.
While, again, both these would provoke only a smile of contempt in the voyager who now crosses the atlantic, at a rate of 20 knots or more in the hour. Then, again, compare with these the cyclist, who now flashes past us with the speed of lightning; or the motorist, who vanishes from our sight, almost before the dust he has raised is blown away.
Another humbler mode of progress, again, was a familiar sight in our boyhood, when the farmer's wife jogged contentedly to market, seated on a pillion, behind her husband, and carrying her butter, eggs, or chickens, in roomy market baskets by her side. Even the gig, to carry two, of the better bucolic class, has now become obsolete, as the train pours out, at the station, its living stream of market folk, male and female, within a few minutes of leaving their own doors several miles away.
As to our country roads we are, it is true, well supplied with them, but a pageant view of the past, such as we have here conceived, would reveal to us our British forefathers, toiling, in wearied gangs, under Roman task-masters, at the forced labour of road making; by which the town's markets and chartered fairs were to be accessible, from all directions, for generations yet unborn. In our present iron ways, we might well suppose that we have attained the highest evolutionary stage in expeditious traffic; but who, indeed, shall venture to gainsay, that as a sequel to our wireless telegraphy, we may one day eschew the mundane altogether, and become a race of aeronauts.
The Great Northern loop line, connecting Boston and Lincoln with Peterborough and Grantham, and so with the further north and south, was opened in October, 1848. At that date, except the "Navigation" for heavy goods, such as corn, coal, &c., there were only coaches, once a day, for public conveyance to Boston, Lincoln, Market Rasen, and Louth. But through the enterprise of Mr. Samuel Sketchley, of Horncastle, Solicitor, of the old firm of Selwood and Conington, an Act of Parliament was, not without difficulty, obtained, July 10th, 1854, for the construction of a branch line, running from
