The Sun.
London, England, 1867-10-26 00:00:00

i public subscriptions are allowed in the towns, and
many municipalities have voted subsidies without
hindrance from Government.
I You cannot believe what trouble we have with
, the money ; it quite mars the pleasure of travelling.
There is no coin to be had except at an enormous
loss ; indeed many of the money changers have
none at any price. Every one has nothing but
paper, and at the public offices, such as railways
and post-offices, they make more difficulty than
anywhere else. 'There is no Government paper of
lower value than two francs, and the small notes
of private banks can only be passed in the parti-
cular city of each. Every one is complaining of
the great impediment to trade thus occasioned.
The most exaggerated accounts of the success of
the invaders of the Roman States (insurgenti, they
absurdly term them), are published in the local
papers. I saw a private telegram received from
Rome yesterday at Bologna, from a very high and
authentic source, declaring the city still perfectly
quiet, and much less importance is attached to the
movement, by those living in the midst of it than
one would expect from all the noise that is made
about it.

Orte, a border town near Foligno, has, however,
been taken, and a forced levy of 25,000 francs, has
to be paid within six hours by the religious communi
ties of the place. The time allowed for its delivery
had to be short, lest the Roman troops should re-
take it for the Pontifical Government before the
sum had been received.

AMERICA.

(From a Correspondent of the Anglo-American Times.)
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, Oct. 4, 1867.
Travel certainly tends to make one's ideas more
Copernican. The Bostonian returns convinced that
if the " hub" is the centre, it is also one of the
smallest portions of the wheel. The common is
not nearly so large as when he crossed it as a school-
boy, carrying all the materials of his laborious
studies slung in a single strap. The State-house is
not so high, nor the churches so large or so beautiful
when matched with the grand mass of St. Peter's,
the soaring spire of Strasbourg, the vast beginnings
of Cologne or the unprofitable immensity of Paul's.
With memories of the Boulevards in mind the
delusion that our streets are clean can be cherished
no longer. Were the question between us and other
nations one of mere material magnificence it could
be settled at a glance. We have not the parks, the
palaces, and the cathedrals of the old world. Nor,
in the Eastern States, at least, have we the finished
agriculture that makes large tracts of Europe seem
like unlimited gardens. The country appears raw by
contrast. Large spaces of rough woodland stretch
into the very suburbs of the cities ; not, however,
as a distinguished speaker in London called them,
" portions of the primeval forest." For that it is
necessary to go down to the borders of Canada, or
eff to the very "far IVest." There, amid tall trees
of the second growth, you begin to find some of the
sturdy giants of the olden time, compared to which
all we can show in the settled States are but shrub-
like dwarfs. Hills covered with loose stones are
often passed, which no oue has yet taken the trouble
to clear. The railroad is nothing but a railroad. There
is no attempt at elegance or finish, except where
some wide river or ravine is to be spanned, and
solidity, costing of necessity so much, the small item
for elegance is easily " thrown in." Boston has
now some very pretty and neat stations, though
plain and small in comparison with the European.
The way-stations, little wooden cottages, with a
plank walk in front, impress one unpleasantly in
comparison with the neat structures of masonry,
which serve the same purpose beyond the Atlantic.
On the other hand, the " cars" seem a great im-
provement on the European carriages. You have
a long, elegant, well-ventilated saloon, with stoves
to heat in cold weather, plush-covered seats which
can hold but two each, each provided with a foot..
rest, and'so placed that all the passengers face the
same way ; though the backs being reversible,
any party of four by coming early enough can secure
the pleasure of sitting face to face. A preference
for this system may seem trans-Atlantic bigotry,
but it is the preference of one who has tried both.
For a family party nothing can be more pleasant
than a compartment of a foreign railway carriage.
It is a sort of travelling parlour. But for single
travellers few things could be more awkward. To
jam a company of strangers into a narrow space,
where for hours they must stare point blank at each
other, as the only prospect afforded them, and
where the most miserably cramped position is the
only one which can keep feet and legs out of the
way of others, half of these others being likely
enough disagreeable companions, is bad enough ;
but to dignify all this with the name of " privacy"
is beyond all endurance. If I must be shut
up with strangers, and strangers not always
to my taste, let me see the backs of their heads
and show theth the back of mine, and I will
admit that there- is some approach to privacy. If
with this I am allowed to extend my lower limbs
to their natural but not excessive length, it will add
materially to the comfort of a long journey. Then,
as half the passengers sit next the windows, I may
hope by reasonable promptness to secure that privi-
lege, after which I have little to ask.
I should not fail to mention the very great com-
fort of sleeping cars now in use in connection with
the night trains on all our long routes. Long shall
I remember one ride from London to Glasgow
by the night express. We travelled at a fabu-
lous speed, . but there .is a...satiety in mere
motion. I was weary to the last degree. As I
happened to be alone, by the politeness of a disin-
terested porter, I stretched my listless length along
the seat, put my valise under my head, and jour-
neyed faster than the express into the land of
dreams. So far all was well, but as a valise gene-
rally contains a mixture of hard and soft sub-
stances, and is besides not always of the appropriate
height for a pillow, I carried reminders in neck and
head of that journey for not less than twenty-four
hours thereafter. Judge, then, of the satisfaction
of entering a long saloon, which by daylight is only
an ordinary though roomy car, and as darkness
comes on seeing cane-covered stretchers, if one
may call them so, laid from seat to seat and covered
with mattresses, pillows, and blankets, until a
wide, soft, warm bed is formed, around which
thick curtains are drawn. The strictest silence is
maintained, your ticket once inspected is slipped
under a spring at the, head of the bed, where it can
be taken without disturbing you. At the proper
point, if you are to leave before morning, you are
quietly awakened, and find at each end of the car
a wash-room, with water, towels, brushes, and
mirror, so that you leave the train ready for visit-
ing or business. To enter such a car at evening
among the mountains of some rural district, and
awaking from profound slumber to find the train
flashing through the suburbs of a great city, seems like
a realisation of some of the adventures of Arabian
tales. The convenience is worth more practically,
than the romance of the system. A merchant
closes the day's business, sups at home, enters
the trains, has a sound night's rest, break-
fasts before business hours in a city some three
hundred miles distant, spends a busy day, returns
as he came, is at his counting-room on the second
morning after leaving home without having lost an
hour of busy daylight, or an hour of needful rest.
I have said more of this than I meant to do. Hav-
ing made some concessions in favour of other coun-
trics, I must be allowed to praise my own a little,
and while about that easy task, I may say a word
for our neat suburban villages, with their
white houses, neat gardens and orchards, their wide
streets, and pretty churches and school-houses. Each
family has a little estate separated from all the rest,
tall trees ,border the streets, and there is an air of
rural comfort such as is hard to find elsewhere—a
striking contrast to the villages on the Continent of
Europe at least, which, with their crowded houses
and dingy alleys, seem-like fragments of some
wretched section of a great city, which have some-
how floated off and become stranded in the fields.
Nor let it be thought presumptuous, if I set off
the school-houses of our cities and suburbs
against the palaces of the old world. Fine
buildings they are, of faced brick and free-
stone, three or four stories in height, and covering
a large surface. Around each is an extensive
playground, within, large halls for declamation,