I have sometimes been asked if I did not find it very monotonous to be always travelling the same road day after day. Some might have found it so, but I never did. There was never wanting something to break through the monotony. One was brought into contact with fresh passengers every journey, and constantly some fresh incident arose. Indeed, on many roads the scenery alone would beguile the time. In leafy England there are few roads on which there is not something to admire even if other parts are devoid of attraction, and with the real lover of scenery, the eye does not easily tire of looking at the same picture. I must admit that I have been especially favoured in this respect, as my drives lay through some of the most lovely scenery in Wales, notably the valley of the Mawddach, so eulogistically spoken of by the late Judge Talfourd; and also the magnificent scenery of Snowdonia. I can never forget the remarkable reflection in the water with which I was once favoured at Port Madoc, on the down journey from Caernarvon to Aberystwith. As we passed over the embankment and bridge, which at that place unite the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth, the whole of the mountain range for many miles round, including Snowdon and the remarkable peak-shaped Cnicht, together with many other mountains, whose names I cannot now call to mind, were reflected in the clear water of the estuary, which was then at full tide, as clearly as they could have been in a mirror. It was a sight not to be erased from memory. Then, again, he was a fortunate man who drove seventy or eighty miles a day, who had no horse to deal with which would not pretty effectually banish _ennui_ for one stage. Again, the coach was the bringer of the news of the day, and, moreover, never stayed long enough in one place but that it was always "welcome in and welcome out," and this brings to my mind a rather amusing incident--at least, it was good fun to one side--which occurred at a contested election a good many years ago. On the occasion of a warmly-contested election for Montgomeryshire, in the year 1862, I had been to Welshpool to vote for my friend Mr. C. W. W. Wynn, and when, on my down journey, I arrived at Machynlleth, there being no electric telegraph, great anxiety was felt to know the state of the poll. This I gave them as far as it was known when I left Welshpool, but the returns from some of the strongest Conservative districts not having then been received, it was very far from perfection. However, it being favourable to the other side, they jumped at it, and it was not my business to undeceive them; so in their flush of confidence and the height of their happiness, they backed their man freely. The next morning, when I returned with my up coach, the final result of the poll was known, which was in favour of the Conservatives, and they had only to pay and look pleased, which, to their credit, I believe they did very good-humouredly.