The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1870-01-25 00:00:00

THE ROAD IN SPRING GARDENS.
To the Eddor.

Sir, —I think it is Trollope that speaks of the
Yankees down west, as being a be-mired race of
people, with streets, clothes, skim', oovered with
dirt. Could the Yankees have peeped in upon Wey-
mouth during the last few weeks, they might have
learnt • lesson how people could keep clean apparel
and bright countenances in the midst of a sea of
mud. Drizzle, drizzle, has been the rule over the
South of England, and everywhere we hear of streets
ankle deep and roads up to the horses' knees. But
Waymmtli, dear Weymouth, ileAl been bright and
cheerful over it all (say two feet over it) and our
clear Air has saved us from the miserable fate of the
dwellers in cities, whose smoke descends on them in
the fog, and gives them dingy uppers to match their
mud-softened soles (souls). One of the pr,ttiest and
or a long time cleanest parts was Spring Gardens,
a kind of happy valley which Resedas enjoyed all
the inure from being allowed to leave it every day
while he trugged over to his business in stirring
Melcombe. For here, my dear Sir, those of us who
can manage residences apart from our business are
too happy to join in the joyful chorus :
" We do not bye in Malcombe, Sir;
But the other side of the water."
And a favourite place where, when business hours
are over we enjoy our dolce far ?ramie is Spring
Gardens, where the lawyer'. managing clerk smiles
on his roses, the reporter condescends to broooli, or
even the Town Councillor dues • little in the pear
and strawberry line. For • long time we were
content with darkness at night, except when the
moon shone, as were Adam, Methuselah, and a few
more old-fashioned people; and this brought some
of us into old fashioned ways, like the people Mrs.
German Reed sings about, and it used to be true that

" We breakfast at Aevt.n, at one we dine,
The gentlemen over sit over their wine ;
- So every one is in bed by nine
In Babbledyb .oblvdoore.'
But why? oh why? dirt we ask for gas, and more,
and yet more, till the company had to put down •
new main? Oh! but the Weymouthians had di/-
established the Church, and we, poor simple souk,
thought that everything was going to be right when
there was no State-defended Gas Company, when we
tail thrown the burden from our backs, and, having
taken shares, we determined to be c,onautners of our
own. Now wellavo to pay the penalty of super-
civilisation ; our beautiful road that lo keil so nice
and trod so hard is dug up, the precious " iiietal"
seems again to have been restored to the bowels el
the eirth, and cc are treated to a tine specimen o
the native subsoil. It would glaiden the heart o
the author of " Talpa : or the Chronicles oda Clay
farm," to see how thoroughly the "smashing-up"
busiuess has been done. But I would suggest to
future excavatore of our roads that it 'might be well
to throw back the metal carefully at first, and
reserve the clay to be buried as before, and not to
leave the rest of the foot-travellers, as we are left, to
wade through a quag-mire. Oh for a bit of Chesil
Beach, or the shingle piled so plentifully in frt..nt f
Brunswick Buddingr, to give us • firm footing
Could not the Local Board spare us a few loads?—
Yours, etc.,