ondon, at Castlethorpe near
Wolverton, and at Parkside near Liverpool. At these four troughs about
130,000 gallons of water are scooped up daily.

Wherever railways have been made, new towns have sprung up, and old towns
and cities been quickened into new life. When the first English lines
were projected, great were the prophecies of disaster to the inhabitants
of the districts through which they were proposed to be forced. Such
fears have long since been dispelled in this country. The same
prejudices existed in France. When the railway from Paris to Marseilles
was laid out so as to pass through Lyons, a local prophet predicted that
if the line were made the city would be ruined--"_Ville traversee_,
_ville perdue_;" while a local priest denounced the locomotive and the
electric telegraph as heralding _the reign of Antichrist_. But such
nonsense is no longer uttered. Now it is the city without the railway
that is regarded as the "city lost;" for it is in a measure shut out from
the rest of the world, and left outside the pale of civilisation.

Perhaps the most striking of all the illustrations that could be offered
of the extent to which railways facilitate the locomotion, the industry,
and the subsistence of the population of large towns and cities, is
afforded by the working of the railway system in connection with the
capital of Great Britain.

The extension of railways to London has been of comparatively recent
date; the whole of the lines connecting it with the provinces and
terminating at its outskirts, having been opened during the last thirty
years, while the lines inside London have for the most part been opened
within the last sixteen years.

The first London line was the Greenwich Railway, part of which was opened
for traffic to Deptford in February 1836. The working of this railway
was first exhibited as a show, and the usual attractions were employed to
make it "draw." A band of musicians in the garb of the Beef-eaters was
stationed at the London end, and another band at Deptford. For
cheapness' sake the Deptford band was shortly superseded by a large
barrel-organ, which played in the passengers; but, when the traffic
became established, the barrel organ, as well as the beef-eater band at
the London end, were both discontinued. The whole length of the line was
lit up at night by a row of lamps on either side like a street, as if to
enable the locomotives or the passengers to see their way in th