On the Northern Road an equally disastrous effect has been produced. At Barnet, where formerly Messrs. Bryant and Newman, the rival postmasters, could produce three hundred to four hundred pairs of horses, and where, also an immense number of coach-horses were kept, the grass has grown over the inn yard. The same observation applies with equal force to all towns east and south of the metropolis. The above gave rise to the following parody on Goldsmith's "Deserted Village":-- THE DESERTED VILLAGE. "Quantum mutatus ab illo." Hail, Hounslow! primest town upon the road, Where coaching once in all its glory showed, Where careful drivers might be always found, Ready when ostlers called to "bring 'em round." The Member rattling up at slapping pace, To ease his conscience, or secure a place-- The maiden flying from a guardian's rage, In Hymen's "Union" venturing a stage-- These knew no more of anxious fear or doubt, When John the ostler cried, "the first turn out." Once, Hounslow, there was many a gallant team, The dragsman's pride, the helper's fruitful theme; How dashingly they sweep up to the well-known door, Where rest awaited when their task was o'er; Or, sleek of coat, and deck'd with trappings gay, Bounding they met the labour of the day. Landlord and whip gazed on the thriving trade, And dreamt of fortunes soon and surely made, For then alike both house and coach fill'd well, "And all went merry as a marriage bell." Once it was thus--another age appears, And Hounslow's smiles, alas! are turn'd to tears. No more is heard the mellow winding horn, Waking the drowsy slumbers of the morn; No spicy "change" now waits for the down mail, For, woe is me! the "Bristol's" on the "rail." No longer now is heard the busy din In the full yard that marks the prosperous inn; Unheard is now the watching ostler's call; The only "pair" is weary of the stall. Silent the joke of "boots," ne'er known to fail; The keeper's whistle and the postboy's tale. No waiter now bestirs him for the nonce, To answer fifty summonses at once; E'en Bessy's self, so long the bar's fair boast, The cookmaid's envy, and the bagman's toast, Whose winning smile was so well known to fame That for a ray each traveller duly came,-- E'en she--so hopeless, Hounslow, is thy case-- Hath packed her traps and bolted from her place. A time there was, ere railroads came in force, When every mile of ground maintained its horse; Coach after coach then rattled briskly by, "Live and let live" was then the wholesome cry. 'Tis past! and now succeeds the general doom Of landlord, barmaid, waiters, ostler, groom; The coachman's glories have for ever set, And "boots" has got a place--in the _Gazette_.