here are three roads, or ways, below and one
above. The centre lower way is for carriages, the other two for
single lines of rails, trains crossing both ways. The upper road or
way is for foot-passengers, and thus as you cross the bridge you see
the carriages and trains below. The peculiarity of this wonderful and
beautiful structure is the enormous span between the supporting
towers, and the apparent extreme lightness of the whole bridge. It
would take more engineering knowledge than I possess, and pages of
space, to describe the manner the roadways, i.e. the whole bridge, is
supported. But the idea conveyed is that the supporting-rods, and the
ties of every kind, are far more numerous and lighter than in other
suspension bridges. The mesh of a spider's web, but with threads
running in every direction, is the only thing I can compare it to. I
know not who the engineer was, but his name should go down to all
posterity. I have travelled in many lands, but I never saw any human
achievement that impressed me so much as this Brooklyn Bridge. In
vastness, in beauty, in ingenuity, there is no edifice, I believe,
reared by man to equal it.[1]

New York is divided into three parts. The larger is New York proper.
The other two are Jersey City and Brooklyn. The Hudson river runs
between New York proper and Jersey City. This is not bridged, being
about two miles wide, but I doubt not the go-ahead Americans will do
it some day. The East river divides Brooklyn from New York, and is
crossed by the bridge described above. The termini of the great rail
lines, running North, South, and West, are in Jersey City, so when
leaving New York you cross the Hudson river. There are six lines of
ferries across. The boats are of enormous size, with separate
compartments for wheeled vehicles and passengers. The horses pull the
vehicles on board, and off at the other side. The saloons for the
passengers are pictures of ornament, elegance, and comfort. In all
such things the Americans are far ahead of us. Look at the
steamboats running up and down the Thames, what miserable craft they
are. You could put six or eight of them on board one of the American
steam-ferries described, not to descant on the absence of all decent
accommodation. I like to be fair and give the Americans their due.
There is much I must decry. Will it make my praise appreciated on the
other side of the Atlantic? I doubt it; but it will, I feel sure,
make my English readers believ