The Royal Mail: Its Curiosities and Romance

"To Carlisle; cut up by innumerable little paltry one-horse carts." One more instance from the pen of Young and we leave him. In the course of one of his journeys, he makes his way into Wales, where he finds his bete noire in the roads, and freely expresses himself thereupon in his usual forcible style: "But, my dear sir, what am I to say of the roads in this country? the turnpikes, as they have the assurance to call them, and the hardiness to make one pay for? From Chepstow to the half-way house between Newport and Cardiff they continue mere rocky lanes, full of hugeous stones as big as one's horse, and abominable holes. The first six miles from Newport they were so detestable, and without either direction-posts or milestones, that I could not well persuade myself I was on the turnpike, but had mistook the road, and therefore asked every one I met, who answered me, to my astonishment, 'Ya-as.' Whatever business carries you into this country, avoid it, at least till they have good roads; if they were good, travelling would be very pleasant."