LXXVIII.

What a delightful thing's a turnpike road! So smooth, so level, such a mode of shaving The Earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad Air can accomplish, with his wide wings waving. Had such been cut in Phaeton's time, the god Had told his son to satisfy his craving With the York mail;--but onward as we roll, _Surgit amari aliquid_--the toll![555]