excursion trains.

The story of George Stephenson's great work is told. His railroad
and his locomotive had come together, and to stay. All opposition
was crushed, and no sooner was one road in successful operation than
another, sometimes several, were on foot. George and Robert
Stephenson were in demand everywhere and their locomotive works were
full of orders. In twenty years England had nearly ten thousand
miles of railways.

The spectacle of these two men, father and son, working together as
equals was one often admired. Both became wealthy and full of
honor. Titled men were proud to pay their respects to George
Stephenson, and when he died, in 1848, at the age of sixty-seven,
the whole nation rose up to do him honor.

Though probably Stephenson had never heard of Emerson, Emerson had
heard of Stephenson, and he called upon him on his visit to England.
Afterward Emerson said that "it was worth crossing the Atlantic to
have seen Stephenson alone; he had such native force of character
and vigor of intellect."

What a contrast that meeting offers! There face to face stood two
men, two great philosophers, both of whom have broadly and deeply
influenced mankind--one by deeds, the other by words. One wielded
the pen, giving us noble, beautiful and inspiring thoughts,
profoundly analyzing life and character; the other wielded those
cunning tools with which man subdues nature and harnesses its forces
to do his will. He wrote not for the pages of a book, but on lines
of steel with a stylus that conquered time and space, bringing
distant cities into companionship. I look up to each with an equal
reverence. Each achieved the conquest of mind over matter, and each
exhibited the exceeding manliness of a noble life and character.

There is no space with which to speak of Stephenson's safety-lamp,
nor of the influence his life and character have had on the brain
and brawn of working England. If my reader is interested to know him
more and better, let him consult the nearest library.

One word about "The Rocket" and this brief sketch is done. For some
years "The Rocket" did service on the Liverpool and Manchester road,
but it soon proved too light for the heavy traffic, and was sold to
a coal company in the North, where for years it faithfully hauled
coal-cars from the mines. But even there it was superseded, and in
contempt consigned to the back-yard. It was still fleet, but not
strong. In that dreary back-yard among usel