Diary in America, Series Two | Page 2

by no means an unimportant subject, as the
degree of civilisation of a country, and many important peculiarities,
bearing strongly upon the state of society, are to be gathered from the
high road, and the variety of entertainment for man and horse; and I
think that my remarks on this subject will throw as much light upon
American society as will be found in any chapter which I have written.
In a country abounding as America does with rivers and railroads, and
where locomotion by steam, wherever it can be applied, supersedes
every other means of conveyance, it is not to be expected that the roads
will be remarkably good; they are, however, in consequence of the
excellent arrangements of the townships and counties, in the Eastern

States, as good, and much better, than could be expected. The great
objection to them is that they are not levelled, but follow the
undulations of the country, so that you have a variety of short, steep
ascents and descents which are very trying to the carriage-springs and
very fatiguing to the traveller. Of course in a new country you must
expect to fall in with the delightful varieties of Corduroy, etcetera, but
wherever the country is settled, and the population sufficient to pay the
expense, the roads in America may be said to be as good as under
circumstances could possibly be expected. There are one or two roads, I
believe, not more, which are government roads; but, in general, the
expense of the roads is defrayed by the States.
But, before I enter into any remarks upon the various modes of
travelling in America, it may be as well to say a few words upon the
horses, which are remarkably good in the United States: they appear to
be more hardy, and have much better hoofs, than ours in England;
throwing a shoe therefore is not of the same consequence as it is with
us, for a horse will go twenty miles afterwards with little injury. In
Virginia and Kentucky the horses are almost all thorough-bred, and
from the best English stock.--The distances run in racing are much
longer than ours, and speed without bottom is useless.
The Americans are very fond of fast trotting horses; I do not refer to
rackers, as they term horses that trot before and gallop behind, but fair
trotters, and they certainly have a description of horse that we could not
easily match in England. At New York, the Third Avenue, as they term
it, is the general rendezvous, I once went out there mounted upon Paul
Pry, who was once considered the fastest horse in America; at his full
speed he performed a mile in two minutes and thirty seconds, equal to
twenty-four miles per hour. He took me at this devil of a pace as far as
Hell Gate; not wishing "to intrude," I pulled up there, and went home
again. A pair of horses in harness were pointed out to me who could
perform the mile in two minutes fifty seconds. They use here light
four-wheeled vehicles which they call wagons, with a seat in the front
for two persons and room for your luggage behind; and in these wagons,
with a pair of horses, they think nothing of trotting them seventy or
eighty miles in a day, at the speed of twelve miles an hour; I have seen

the horses come in, and they did not appear to suffer from the fatigue.
You seldom see a horse bent forward, but they are all daisy cutters.
The gentlemen of New York give very high prices for fast horses;
1,000 dollars is not by any means an uncommon price. In a country
where time is every thing, they put a proportionate value upon speed.
Paul Pry is a tall grey horse (now thirteen years old); to look at, he
would not fetch 10 pounds,--the English omnibuses would refuse him.
Talking about omnibuses, those of New York, and the other cities in
America, are as good and as well regulated as those of Paris; the larger
ones have four horses. Not only their omnibuses, but their hackney
coaches are very superior to those in London; the latter are as clean as
private carriages; and with the former there is no swearing, no
dislocating the arms of poor females, hauling them from one omnibus
to the other,--but civility without servility.
The American stage-coaches are such as experience has found out to be
most suitable to the American roads, and you have not ridden in them
five miles before you long for the delightful springing of four horses
upon the level roads of England. They are something between an
English stage [see note 1] and a French diligence, built with all the
panels open, on account of the