London June 16, 1842

            Our rail journey from Edinburgh was swift, noisy, amazing, dirty, thrilling, and rough. It beggars the imagination to realize that we made the trip in just two days. Sometimes the train flew along at twenty-five miles an hour. Bridges without guardrails spanned rivers and gorges. We clung to each other for fear of falling as we sailed around graceful curves. To look out the window and see nothing but empty space above a torrent of water conveyed a sense that we had broken free from our earthbound existence, that we were flying through the air beyond the reality of mortal life. Alas, we never quite broke free, tethered as our imaginations were by the shaking and rumbling of the coach, reminding us of our attachment to things more substantial.

Naturally we dressed in what we thought should be tasteful travel finery. We would have been better advised to dress in kitchen maids’ attire because of the soot from the locomotive that penetrated every corner of the coach. Smoke left grime on our faces and permeated our clothing from head to foot. Our main occupation during a stopover in Manchester the first night was washing our bodies and shaking out our clothing as best we could. No amount of eau de cologne was able to camouflage the odor of smoke.