Towards the end of last century, tramways formed by laying down narrow plates of iron, were in use at mines and collieries in several parts of England. These plates had usually a projection or flange on the inner edge, thus—L, in order to keep the waggons on the track, for the wheels themselves had no flange, but were of the kind used on ordinary roads. These flat tramways were found liable to become covered up with dirt and gravel, so that the benefit which ought to have been obtained from their smoothness was in a great measure lost. Edge rails were, therefore, substituted, and the wheels were kept on the rails by having a flange cast on the inner edge of the rim. The rails were then always made of cast iron, for, although they were very liable to break, the great cost of making them of wrought iron prevented that material from being used until 1820, when the method of forming rails of malleable iron by rolling came into use. The first time a tramway was used for the conveyance of passengers was in 1825, when the Stockton and Darlington Railway was opened—a length of thirty-seven miles. It appears that the carriages were at first drawn by horses, although locomotives were used on this and other colliery lines for dragging, at a slow rate, trains of mineral waggons. At that time engineers were exercising their ingenuity in overcoming a difficulty which never existed by devising plans for giving tractive power to the locomotive through the instrumentality of rack-work rails. It never occurred to them to first try whether the adhesion of the smooth wheel to the smooth rail was not sufficient for the purpose. During the first quarter of the present century the greater part of the goods and much passenger traffic was monopolized by the canals. It is quoted, as a proof of the careless manner in which this service was performed, that the transport of bales of cotton from Liverpool to Manchester sometimes occupied twice the length of time required in their voyage across the Atlantic. When an Act of Parliament authorizing the construction of a railway between Liverpool and Manchester was applied for, the canal companies succeeded in retarding, by their influence, the passing of that Act for two years. It was passed, however, in 1828, and the construction of the line was proceeded with. This line was at first intended only for the conveyance of goods, especially of cotton and cotton manufactures, and the waggons were to be drawn by horses. When the line was nearly finished the idea of employing horses was, at the instigation of Mr. George Stephenson, abandoned in favour of steam power. The directors were divided in opinion as to whether the carriage should be dragged by ropes wound on large drums by stationary engines, or whether locomotives should be employed. Finally, the latter plan was adopted, and it was also suggested that passengers might be carried. The directors offered a prize for the best locomotive, and the result has been already mentioned. In the light of our experience since that time, it is curious to read of the doubts then entertained by skilful engineers about the success of the locomotive. In a serious treatise on the subject, one eminent authority hoped “that he might not be confounded with those hot-brained enthusiasts who maintained the possibility of carriages being driven by a steam engine on a railway at such a speed as twelve miles an hour.” When the “Rocket” had accomplished the unprecedented velocity of twenty-nine miles an hour, and the railway was opened for passengers as well as goods, the thirty stage coaches daily plying between Liverpool and Manchester found their occupation gone, and all ceased to run except one, which had to depend on the roadside towns only, while the daily number of passengers between the two cities rose at once from 500 to 1,600. In that delightful book, Smiles’s “Life of George Stephenson,” may be found most interesting details of the difficulties attending the introduction of railways, especially with regard to the construction of this first important line. Mr. Smiles relates how the promoters of the scheme struggled against “vested interests;” how the canal proprietors, confident at first of a secure and continuous enjoyment of their monopoly, ridiculed the proposed railway, and continued their exorbitant charges and tardy conveyance, pocketing in profits the prime cost of their canal about every three years; how, roused into active opposition, they did all in their power to thwart the new scheme; how the Lord Derby and the Lord Sefton of that day, and other landowners, offered every resistance to the surveyors; how the Duke of Bridgewater’s farmers would not allow them to enter their fields, and the Duke’s gamekeepers had orders to shoot them; how even a clergyman threatened them with personal violence, and they had to do their work by stealth, while the reverend gentleman was conducting the services in his church; how newspaper and other writers declared that the locomotives would kill the birds, prevent cows from grazing and hens from laying, burn houses, and cause the extinction of the race of horses. All the civil engineers scouted the idea of a locomotive railway, and Stephenson was held up to derision as an ignoramus and a maniac by the “most eminent lawyers,” and the most advanced and “respectable” professional C.E.s of the time. An article appeared in the “Quarterly Review,” very favourable to the construction of railways, but remarking in reference to a proposed line between London and Woolwich: “What can be more palpably absurd and ridiculous than the prospect held out of locomotives travelling twice as fast as stage coaches! We should as soon expect the people of Woolwich to suffer themselves to be fired off upon one of Congreve’s ricochet rockets as trust themselves to the mercy of a machine going at such a rate. We will back old Father Thames against the Woolwich Railway for any sum. We trust that Parliament will, in all railways it may sanction, limit the speed to eight or nine miles an hour, which we entirely agree with Mr. Sylvester is as great as can be ventured on with safety.” This passage, which reads so strangely now, may be seen in the “Quarterly Review” for March, 1825. But still more curious appear now the reports of the debates in Parliament, and of the evidence taken before the Parliamentary Committee, in which we find the opinions and fears of the best informed men of that period, and trace the frantic efforts of the holders of the “vested interests” to retain them, however obstructive of the public good.

When it has been decided to construct a railway between two places, the laying-out of the line is a subject requiring great consideration and the highest engineering skill—for the matter is, on account of the great cost, much more important than the setting-out of a common road. The idea of a perfect railroad is that of a straight and level line from one terminus to another; but there are many circumstances which prevent such an idea from being ever carried into practice. First, it is desirable that the line should pass through important towns situated near the route; and then the cost of making the roadway straight and level, in spite of natural obstacles, would be often so great, that to avoid it detours and inclines must be submitted to—the inconvenience and the increased length of road being balanced by the saving in the cost of construction. It is the business of the engineer who lays out the line to take all these circumstances into consideration, after he has made a careful survey of the country through which the line is to pass. The cost of making railways varies, of course, very much according to the number and extent of the tunnels, cuttings, embankments, or other works required. The average cost of each mile of railway in Great Britain may be stated as about £35,000. The road itself when the rails are laid down is called the permanent way, perhaps originally in distinction to the temporary tramways laid down by the contractors during the progress of the works. The permanent way is formed first of ballast, which is a layer of gravel, stone, or other carefully chosen material, about 2 ft. deep, spread over the roadway. Above the ballast and partly embedded in it are placed the sleepers, which is the name given to the pieces of timber on which the rails rest. These timbers are usually placed transversely—that is, across the direction of the rails, in the manner shown in Fig. 42. This figure also represents the form of rails most commonly adopted, and exhibits the mode in which they are fastened down to the sleepers by means of the iron chairs, b c, the rail being firmly held in its place by an oak wedge, d. These wedges are driven in while the rails are maintained at precisely the required distance apart by the implement, e f, called a cramp gauge, the chairs having previously been securely attached to the sleepers by bolts or nails. The double ⟙ form of rail has several important advantages, such as its capability of being reversed when the upper surface is worn out, and the readiness with which the ends of the rails can be joined by means of fish-plates. These are shown in Fig. 43, where in a we are supposed to be looking down on the rails, and in B to be looking at them sideways. In Fig. 44 we have the rail and fish-plates in section. The holes in the rails through which the bolts pass are not round but oval, so that a certain amount of play is permitted to the ends of the rails.

It may easily be seen on looking at a line of rails that they are not laid with the ends quite touching each other, or, at least, they are not usually in contact. The reason of this is that space must be allowed for the expansion which takes place when a rise in the temperature occurs. If the rails are laid down when at the greatest temperature they are likely to be subject to, they may then be placed in actual contact; but in cold weather a space will be left by their contraction. For this reason it is usual when rails are laid to allow a certain interval; thus rails 20 ft. long laid when the temperature is 70°, are placed with their ends 1
20th of an inch apart, at 30° 1
10th of an inch apart, and so on. The neglect of this precaution has sometimes led to damage and accidents. A certain railway was opened in June, and after an excursion train had in the morning passed over it, the midday heat so expanded the iron, that the rails became in some places elevated 2 ft. above the level, and the sleepers were torn up; so that, in order to admit of the return of the train, the rails had to be hastily relaid in a kind of zigzag. In June, 1856, a train was thrown off the metals of the North-Eastern Railway, in consequence of the rails rising up through expansion.

The distance between the rails in Great Britain is 4 ft. 8½ in., that width having been adopted by George Stephenson in the construction of the earlier lines. Brunel, the engineer of the Great Western, adopted, however, in the construction of that railway, a gauge of 7 ft., with a view of obtaining greater speed and power in the engines, steadiness in the carriages, and increased size of carriages for bulky goods. The proposal to adopt this gauge gave rise to a memorable dispute among engineers, often called “The Battle of the Gauges.” It was stated that any advantages of the broad gauge were more than compensated by its disadvantages. The want of uniformity in the gauges was soon felt to be an inconvenience to the public, and a Parliamentary Committee was appointed to consider the subject. They reported that either gauge supplied all public requirements, but that the broad gauge involved a great additional outlay in its construction without any compensating advantages of economy in working; and, as at that time 2,000 miles of railway had been constructed on the narrow gauge, whereas only 270 miles were in existence on the broad gauge, they recommended that future railways should be made the prevailing width of 56½ in. The Great Western line had engines, bridges, tunnels, viaducts, &c., on a larger scale than any other railway in Britain. The difference of gauge was after a time felt to involve so much inconvenience that lines which adopted the 7–ft. gauge have since relaid the tracks at the more common width. At the present day we find the Great Western Railway completely reconstructed on the narrow gauge system, in order that trains may run without interruption in connection with other lines.

The wheels of railway carriages and engines differ from those of ordinary carriages in being fastened in pairs upon the axles, with which they revolve (see Fig. 45). The tire of the wheel is conical, the slope being about 1 in 20; that is, in a wheel 5 in. broad the radius of the outer edge is ¼ in. less than that of the inner; and the rails are placed sloping a little inwards. The effect of this conical figure is to counteract any tendency to roll off the rails; for if a pair of wheels were shifted a little to one side, the parts of the tires rolling upon the rails being then of unequal circumference, would cause the wheels to roll towards the other side. The conical shape produces this kind of adjustment so well that the flanges do not in general touch the rails. They act, however, as safeguards in passing over curves and junctions. In curves the outer line of rails is laid higher than the inner, so that in passing over them the train leans slightly inwards, in order to counteract what is called the centrifugal force, to which any body moving in a curve is subject. This so-called force is merely the result of that tendency which every moving body has to continue its motion in a straight line. A very good example of the effect of this may be seen when a circus horse is going rapidly round the ring. The inclination inwards is still more perceptible when a rider is standing on the horse’s back, as shown in Fig. 46. The earth’s attraction of gravity is pulling the performer straight down, and the centrifugal force would of itself throw her outwards horizontally. The resultant or combined effect of both acts is seen in the exact direction in which she is leaning, and it presses her feet on the horse’s back, the animal itself being under similar conditions. It is obvious that the amount of centrifugal force, and therefore of inward slope, will increase with the speed and sharpness of the curve, and on the railways the rails are placed so that the slope counteracts the centrifugal force when the train travels at about the rate of twenty miles per hour.

A very important part of the mechanism of a railway is the mode of passing trains from one line of rails to another. Engines and single carriages are sometimes transferred by means of turn-tables, but the more general plan is by switches, which are commonly constructed as shown in Fig. 47. There are two rails, A and B, tapering to a point and fixed at the other end, so that they have sufficient freedom to turn horizontally. A train passing in the direction shown by the arrow would continue on the main line, if the points are placed as represented; but if they be moved so that the long tongue is brought into contact with the rail of the main line, then the train would run on to the side rails. These points are worked by means of a lever attached to the rod, C, the lever being either placed near the rails, or in a signal-box, where a man is stationed, whose sole duty it is to attend to the points and to the signals. The interior of a signal-box near an important junction or station is shown in Fig. 48, and we see here the numerous levers for working the points and the signals, each of these having a connection, by rods or wires, with the corresponding point or signal-post. The electric telegraph is now an important agent in railway signalling, and in a signal-box we may see the bells and instruments which inform the pointsman whether a certain section of the line is “blocked” or “clear.” The signals now generally used on British railways are made by the semaphore, which is simply a post from which an arm can be made to project. When the driver of the train sees the arm projecting from the left-hand side of the post, it is an intimation to him that he must stop his train; when the arm is dropped half-way, so as to project 45° from the post, it is meant that he must proceed cautiously; when the arm is down the line is clear. These signals, of course, are not capable of being seen at night, when their place is supplied with lamps, provided with coloured glasses—red and green—and also with an uncoloured glass. The lamp may have the different glasses on three different sides, and be turned round so as to present the required colour; or it may be made to do so without turning, if provided with a frame having red and green glasses, which can be moved like spectacles in front of it. The meanings of the various coloured lights and the corresponding semaphore signals are these:

A very clear account of the mode of working railway signals on what is now called the block system, together with a graphic description of a signal-box, was given in a paper which appeared some years ago in “The Popular Science Review,” from the pen of Mr. Charles V. Walker, F.R.S., the telegraph engineer to the South-Eastern Railway Company, who was the first to organize an efficient system of electric signalling for railways. We may remark that the signalling instruments on the South-Eastern line, and indeed on all the lines at the present day, address themselves both to the ear and to the eye, for they consist of—first, bells, on which one, two, or more blows are struck, each series of blows having its own particular meaning; and, second, of a kind of miniature signal-post, with arms capable of being moved by electric currents into positions similar to those of the arm of an actual signal-post, so that the position of the arms is made always to indicate the state of the line. One arm of the little signal-post—the left—is red, and it has reference to receding trains; the other—viz., the right—arm is white, and relates to approaching trains. Mr. Walker thus describes the signalling:

“The ordinary position of the arms of the electro-magnetic telegraph semaphores will be down; that is to say, when the line is clear of all trains, and business begins, say in early morning, all the arms will be down, indicating that no train is moving. When the first train is ready to start, say from Charing Cross, the signalman will give the proper bell-signal to Belvidere—two, three, or four blows, according as the train is for Greenwich, for North Kent, or Mid-Kent, or for the main line; and the Belvidere man will acknowledge this by one blow on the bell in reply, and without raising the Charing Cross red or left arm. This is the signal that the train may go on; and when the train has passed, so that the Charing Cross man can see the tail lights, he gives the out signal a second time, which the Belvidere man acknowledges, at the same time raising the red arm at Charing Cross, behind the train, and so protecting it until it has passed him at Belvidere, when he signals to that effect to Charing Cross, at the same time putting down the red arm there, as an indication that the line is again clear. While these operations are going on for down trains, others precisely similar, but in the reverse direction, are going on for up trains.... One and the same pressure on the key sends a bell signal and raises or depresses the semaphore arm as the case may require, a single telegraph wire only being required for the combined system, as for the more simple bell system.” In one of the signal-boxes on the South-Eastern line, Mr. Walker states, on a certain day 650 trains or engines were signalled and all particulars accurately entered in a book, the entries requiring the writing down of nearly 8,000 figures: an illustration of the amount of work quietly carried on in a signal-box for the advantage and security of the travelling public.

Mr. Walker also gives us a peep into the inside of one of the signal-boxes, thus: “The interior of a large signal-box exhibits a very animated scene, in which there are but two actors, a man and a boy, both as busy as bees, but with no hurry or bustle. The ruling genius of the place is the strong, active, intelligent signalman, standing at one end of the apartment, the monarch for the time being of all he surveys. Immediately before him in one long line, extending from side to side, is a goodly array of levers, bright and clean from constant use and careful tending, each one labelled for its respective duty. Before him to the right and left are the various electro-magnetic semaphores, each one in full view and adjusted in position to the pair of roads to which it is appropriated, and all furnished with porcelain labels. Directly in front of him is a screen, along which are arranged the various semaphore keys; and on brackets, discreetly distributed, are the bells and gongs, the twin companions each of its own semaphore. Before the screen are the writing-desk and books, and here stands the youngster, the ministering spirit, all on the alert to take or to send electric signals and to record them, his time and attention being devoted alternately to his semaphore keys and to his books, being immediately under the eye and control of the signalman. This is no place for visitors, and the scenes enacted here have little chance of meeting the public gaze; indeed, the officers whose duties take them hither occasionally are only too glad to look on, and say as little as may be, and not interrupt the active pair, between whom there is evidently a good understanding in the discharge of duties upon the accurate performance of which so much depends. Looking on, the man will be seen in command of his rank and file: signals come, are heard and seen by both man and boy; levers are drawn and withdrawn, one, two, three, or more; the arms and the lamps on the gigantic masts outside, of which there are three, well laden, are displayed as required, distant signals are moved, points are shifted and roads made ready; telegraph signals are acknowledged; and on looking out—for the box is glazed throughout—trains are seen moving in accordance with the signals made; and on the signal-posts at the boxes, right and left—for here they are within easy reach of each other—arms are seen up and down in sympathy with those on the spot, and with the telegraph signals that have been interchanged. There is no cessation to this work, and there is no confusion in it; one head and hand directs the whole, so that there are no conflicting interests and no misunderstandings; all is done in perfect tranquillity, and the great secret is that one thing is done at a time. All this, which is so simple and so full of meaning to the expert, is to the uninitiated intricate and vague; and though he cannot at first even follow the description of the several processes, so rapidly are they begun and ended, yet, as the cloud becomes thin, and his ideas become clearer, he cannot fail to be gratified, and to be filled with admiration at the great results that are brought about by means so simple.”

Most of the carriages used on railways are so familiar to everyone that it is unnecessary to give any description of them. We give a figure of one which, though of early type, has special features of interest, being the well-designed Travelling Post Office, Fig. 49. In such vans as that here represented letters are sorted during the journey, and for this purpose the interior is provided with a counter and with pigeon-holes from end to end. When the train stops bags may, of course, be removed from or received into the van in the ordinary manner; but by a simple mechanism bags may be delivered at a station and others taken up while the train continues its journey at full speed. A bar can be made to project from the side of the carriage, and on this the bag is hung by hooks, which are so contrived that they release the bag when a rod, projecting from the receiving apparatus, strikes a certain catch on the van. The bag then drops into a netting, which is spread for its reception; and in order to receive the bags taken up, a similar netting is stretched on an iron frame attached to the van This frame is made to fold up against the side of the carriage when not in use. When the train is approaching the station where the bag is to be taken up, this frame is let down, and a projecting portion detaches the bags, so that they drop into the net, from which they are removed into the interior of the vehicle. These travelling post offices are lighted with gas, and are padded at the ends, so that the clerks may not be liable to injury by concussions of the carriages.

England has had to borrow from the United States not a few hints for such adaptations and appliances as tend to promote the comfort and convenience of travellers by rail, especially on what we insularly call long journeys. Some of these vehicles on the American railways are luxurious hotels upon wheels; they contain accommodation for forty persons, having a kitchen, hot and cold water, wine, china and linen closets, and more than a hundred different articles of food, besides an ample supply of tablecloths, table napkins, towels, sheets, pillowcases, &c. Then there are other Pullman inventions, such as the “palace” and the “sleeping” cars, in which the traveller who is performing a long journey makes himself at home for days, or perhaps for a week, as, for instance, while he is being carried across the American continent from ocean to ocean at the easy rate of twenty miles an hour on the Pacific and other connecting lines. Mr. C. Nordhoff, an American writer, giving an account of his journey to the Western States, writes thus: “Having unpacked your books and unstrapped your wraps in your Pullman or Central Pacific palace car, you may pursue all the sedentary avocations and amusements of a parlour at home; and as your housekeeping is done—and admirably done—for you by alert and experienced servants; as you may lie down at full length, or sit up, sleep, or wake at your choice; as your dinner is sure to be abundant, very tolerably cooked, and not hurried; as you are pretty certain to make acquaintances in the car; and as the country through which you pass is strange and abounds in curious and interesting sights, and the air is fresh and exhilarating—you soon fall into the ways of the voyage; and if you are a tired business man or a wearied housekeeper, your careless ease will be such a rest as certainly most busy and overworked Americans know how to enjoy. You write comfortably at a table in a little room called a ‘drawing-room,’ entirely closed off, if you wish it, from the remainder of the car, which room contains two large and comfortable armchairs and a sofa, two broad clean plate-glass windows on each side (which may be doubled if the weather is cold), hooks in abundance for shawls, hats, &c., and mirrors at every corner. Books and photographs lie on the table. Your wife sits at the window sewing and looking out on long ranges of snow-clad mountains or on boundless ocean-like plains. Children play on the floor or watch at the windows for the comical prairie dogs sitting near their holes, and turning laughable somersaults as the car sweeps by. The porter calls you at any hour you appoint in the morning; he gives half an hour’s notice of breakfast, dinner, or supper; and while you are at breakfast, your beds are made up and your room or your section aired. About eight o’clock in the evening—for, as at sea, you keep good hours—the porter, in a clean grey uniform, comes in to make up the beds. The two easy-chairs are turned into a berth; the sofa undergoes a similar transformation; the table, having its legs pulled together, disappears in a corner, and two shelves being let down furnish two other berths. The freshest and whitest of linen and brightly-coloured blankets complete the outfit; and you undress and go to bed as you would at home.”

An important general truth may find a familiar illustration in the subject now under notice. The truth in question may be expressed by saying that, in all human affairs, as well as in the operations of nature, the state of things at any one time is the result, by a sort of growth, of a preceding state of things. And in this way it is certainly true of inventions, that they never make their appearance suddenly in a complete and finished state—like Minerva, who is fabled to have sprung from the brain of Jupiter fully grown and completely armed; but rather their history resembles the slow and progressive process by which ordinary mortals attain to their full stature. We have already seen that railways had their origin in the tramways of collieries; and, in like manner, the railway carriage grew out of the colliery truck and the stage coach; for when railway carriages to convey passengers were first made, it did not occur to their designers that anything better could be done than to place coach bodies on the frame of the truck; and accordingly the early railway carriages were formed by mounting the body of a stage coach, or two or three such bodies side by side, on the timber framework which was supported by the flanged wheels. The cut, Fig. 56, is from a painting in the possession of the Connecticut Historical Society, and it represents the first railway train in America on its trial trip (1831), in which sixteen persons took part, who were then thought not a little courageous. Here we see that the carriages were regular stage coaches, and the same was the case in England. But it is very significant that, to this day, the stage coach bodies are traceable in many of the carriages now running on English lines, especially in the first-class carriages, where, in the curved lines of the mouldings which are supposed to ornament the outside, one may easily recognize the forms of the curved bodies of the stage coaches, although there is nothing whatever, in the real framing of the timbers of the railway carriage, which has the most distant relation to these curves. Then again, almost universally on English lines, the old stage coach door-handles are still retained on the first-class carriages, in the awkward flat oval plates of brass which fold down with a hinge. Many other points might be named which would show the persistence of the stage coach type on the English railways. The cut, Fig. 56, proves that the Americans set out with the same style of carriages; but North America, as compared with the Old World, is par excellence the country of rapid developments, and there carriages, or cars, as our Transatlantic cousins call them, have for a long time been made with numerous improvements, and in forms more in harmony with the railway system, than the conservatism of English ideas, still cleaving to the stage coach type, permitted to be attempted in this country.

Railway travellers in the United States had long enjoyed the benefit of comforts and convenience in the appointments of their carriages long before any change had been effected in the general arrangements of the vehicles provided by the railway companies in England. It is now indeed a considerable number of years since this state of things has been altered in the older country; as all the great lines, following the example of the Midland Company, who first adopted the Pullman cars, have constructed luxurious vehicles in which every elegance and comfort are placed within the reach of the English traveller, and these improvements are highly appreciated by all who have long journeys to make by day or night.

The elegance and comfort of the arrangements are almost too obvious to require description. We see the luxuriously padded chairs, which, by turning on swivels, permit the traveller to adjust his position according to his individual wishes, so that he can, with ease, place his seat either to gaze directly on the passing landscape, or turn his face towards his fellow-travellers opposite or on either side. The chairs are also provided with an arrangement for placing the backs at any required inclination, and the light and refined character of the decorations of the carriage should not escape the reader’s notice. Pullman Cars of another kind, providing sleeping accommodation for night journeys, are also in use on the Midland line, and they are fitted up with the same thoughtful regard to comfort as the Parlour Car.

The great engineering feats which have been accomplished in the construction of railways are numerous enough to fill volumes. We give, therefore, only a short notice of one or two recently constructed lines which have features of special interest, concluding with a brief account of such remarkable constructions as the railway by which the traveller may now go up the Rigi, and the railways which ascend Vesuvius and Mt. Pilatus.

THE METROPOLITAN RAILWAYS.

When the traffic in the streets of London became so great that the ordinary thoroughfares were unable to meet public requirements, the bold project was conceived of making a railway under the streets. The construction of a line of railway beneath the streets of a populous city, amidst a labyrinth of gas-pipes, water-mains, sewers, &c., is obviously an undertaking presenting features so remarkable that the London Underground Railway cannot here be passed over without a short notice. Its construction occupied about three years, and it was opened for traffic in 1863. The line commencing at Paddington, and passing beneath Edgware Road at right angles, reaches Marylebone Road, under the centre of which it proceeds, and passing beneath the houses at one end of Park Crescent, Portland Place, it follows the centre of Euston Road to King’s Cross, where connection with the Great Northern and Midland system is effected. Here the line bends sharply southwards, and proceeds to Farringdon Street Station, the original terminus. A subsequent extension takes an easterly direction and reaches Aldgate Station, the nominal terminus. The crown of the arch which covers the line is in some places only a few inches beneath the level of the streets; in other places it is several feet below the surface, and, in fact, beneath the foundations of the houses and other buildings. The steepest gradient on the line is 1 in 100, and the sharpest curve has a radius of 200 yards. The line is nearly all curved, there not being in all its length three-quarters of a mile of straight rails. The difficulties besetting an undertaking of this kind would be tedious to describe, but may readily be imagined. The line traverses every kind of soil—clay, gravel, sand, rubbish, all loosened by previous excavations for drains, pipes, foundations, &c.; and the arrangements of these drains, water and gas-pipes, had to be reconciled with the progress of the railway works, without their uses being interfered with even for a time. Of the stations the majority have roofs of the ordinary kind, open to the sky; but two of them, namely, Baker Street and Gower Street, are completely underground stations, and their roofs are formed by the arches of brickwork immediately below the streets. The arrangements at these stations show great boldness and inventiveness of design. The booking offices for the up line are on one side of the road, and those for the down line on the other. Fig. 50 represents the interior of the Gower Street Station, and the other is very similar. In each the platforms are 325 ft. long and 10 ft. broad, and the stations are lighted by lateral openings through the springing of the arch which forms the roof. This arch is a portion of a circle of 32 ft. radius, with a span of 45 ft. and a rise of 9 ft. at the crown. The lateral openings are arched at the top and bottom, but the sides are flat. The width of each is 4 ft. 9 in., and the height outside 6 ft., increasing to 10 ft. at the ends opening on the platform. The openings are entirely lined with white glazed tiles, and the outward ends open into an area, the back of which is inclined at an angle of 45°, and the whole also lined with white glazed tiles, and covered with glass, except where some iron gratings are provided for ventilation. The tiles reflect the daylight so powerfully that but little gas is required for the illumination of the station in the day-time. The arched roofs of these stations are supported by piers of brickwork, 10 ft. apart, 5 ft. 6 in. deep, and 3 ft. 9 in. wide. In the spaces between the piers vertical arches, like parts of the brick lining of a well, are wedged in, to resist the thrust of the earth, and a straight wall is built inside of this between the piers, to form the platform wall of the station. The tops of the piers are connected by arches, and are thus made to bear the weight of the arched roof, which has 2 ft. 3 in. thickness of brickwork at the crown, and a much greater thickness towards the haunches.

The benefit derived by the public from the completion of the Metropolitan Railway was greatly increased by the subsequent construction of another railway—“The Metropolitan District,” which, joining the Metropolitan at Paddington, makes a circuit about the west-end of Hyde Park, and passing close to the Victoria Terminus of the London, Chatham, and Dover and the Brighton and South Coast Railways, reaches Westminster Bridge, and then follows the Thames Embankment to Blackfriars Bridge, where it leaves the bank of the river for the Mansion House, Mark Lane and Aldgate stations. This line, taken in conjunction with the Metropolitan, forms the “inner circle” of the railway communication in London. The circuit was for a long time incomplete at the east by the want of connection between the Mansion House Station and that of Moorgate Street, although these stations are but little more than half a mile apart. A line connecting these two points has lately been constructed at great cost, and the public now possess a complete circle of communication. The number of trains each day entering and leaving some of the stations on the Metropolitan system is very great. Moorgate Street Station—a terminus into which several companies run—may have about 800 trains arriving or departing in the course of a day.

THE PACIFIC RAILWAY.

The remarkable development of railways which has taken place in the United States has its most striking illustration in the great system of lines by which the whole continent can be traversed from shore to shore. The distance by rail from New York to San Francisco is 3,215 miles, and the journey occupies about a week, the trains travelling night and day. The traveller proceeding from the Eastern States to the far west has the choice of many routes, but these all converge to Omaha. From this point the Pacific Railroad will convey him towards the land of the setting sun. The map, Fig. 51, shows the course of this railway, which is the longest in the world. It traverses broader plains and crosses higher mountains than any other. Engineering skill of the most admirable kind has been displayed in the laying-out and in the construction of the line, with its innumerable cuttings, bridges, tunnels, and snow-sheds.

The road from Omaha to Ogden, near the Great Salt Lake—a distance of 1,032 miles—is owned by the Union Pacific Company, and the Central Pacific joins the former at Ogden and completes the communication to San Francisco, a further length of 889 miles—the whole distance from Omaha to San Francisco being 1,911 miles. The Union Pacific was commenced in November, 1865, and completed in May, 1869. There are at Omaha extensive workshops provided with all the appliances for constructing and repairing locomotives and carriages, and these works cover 30 acres of ground, and give employment to several thousand men. The population of Omaha rose during the making of the railway from under 3,000 in 1864 to more than 16,000 in 1870, and it is now a flourishing town. A little distance from Omaha the line approaches the Platte River, and the valley of this river and one of its tributaries is ascended to Cheyenne, 516 miles from Omaha, the line being nowhere very far from the river’s course. Cheyenne is 5,075 ft. higher above the sea than Omaha, the elevation of which is 966 ft. The Platte River is a broad but very shallow stream, with a channel continually shifting, owing to the vast quantity of sand which its muddy waters carry down. This portion of the line passing through a district where leagues upon leagues of fertile land await the hand of the tiller, has opened up vast tracts of land—hedgeless, gateless green fields, free to all, and capable of receiving and supporting millions of human inhabitants. Cheyenne, a town of 3,000 inhabitants, is entirely the creation of the railways, for southward from Cheyenne a railway passes to Denver, a distance of 106 miles, through rich farming and grazing districts. Seven miles beyond Cheyenne the line begins to ascend the Black Hills by steep gradients, and at Granite Canyon, for example, the rise in five miles is 574 ft., or about 121 ft. per mile. Many lime-kilns have been erected in this neighbourhood, where limestone is very abundant. A little beyond this point the road is in many places protected by snow-sheds, fences of timber, and rude stonework. At Sherman, 549 miles from Omaha, the line attains the summit of its track over the Black Hills, and the highest point on any railway in the world, being 8,242 ft. above the level of the sea. Wild and desolate scenery characterizes the district round Sherman, and the hills, in places covered with a dense growth of wood, will furnish an immense supply of timber for years to come. The timber-sheds erected over the line, and the fences beside it are not so much on account of the depth of snow that falls, but to prevent it from blocking the line by being drifted into the cuts by the high wind. A few miles beyond Dale Creek at Sherman is the largest bridge on the line. It is a trestle bridge, 650 ft. long and 126 ft. high, and has a very light appearance—indeed, to an English eye unaccustomed to these impromptu timber structures, it looks unpleasantly light. From Sherman the line descends to Laramie, which is 7,123 ft. above the sea level and 24 miles from Sherman, and here the railway has a workshop, for good coal is found within a few miles. A fine tract of grazing land, 60 miles long and 20 miles broad, stretches around this station, and it is said that nowhere in the whole North American continent can cattle be reared and fattened more cheaply. The line, now descending the Black Hills, crosses for many miles a long stretch of rolling prairie, covered in great part with sage-bush, and forming a tableland lying between the western base of the Black Hills and the eastern base of the snowy range of the Rocky Mountains, which latter reach an elevation of from 10,000 to 17,000 ft. above the sea level and are perpetually covered with snow. Such tablelands are termed in America “parks.” Before the line reaches the summit of the pass by which it crosses the range of the snowy mountains, it traverses some rough country among the spurs of the hills—through deep cuts and under snow-sheds, across ravines and rivers, and through tunnels. At Percy, 669 miles, is a station named after Colonel Percy, who was killed here by the Indians when surveying for the line. He was surprised by a party of the red men, and retreated to a cabin, where he withstood the attack of his assailants for three days, killing several of them; but at length they set fire to the cabin, and the unfortunate Colonel rushing out, fell a victim to their ferocity. Near Creston, 737 miles from Omaha, the highest point of the chief range is reached, though at an elevation lower by 1,212 ft. than the summit of the pass where the line crosses the Black Hills, which are the advanced guard of the Rocky Mountains. Here is the water-shed of the continent, for all streams rising to the east of this flow ultimately into the Atlantic,—while these, having their sources in the west, fall into the Pacific. Before reaching Ogden the line passes through some grand gorges, which open a way for the iron horse through the very hearts of the mountains, as if Nature had foreseen railways and providently formed gigantic cuttings—such as the Echo and Weber Canyons, which enable the line to traverse the Wahsatch Mountains.