ineering skill has
triumphed over natural obstacles. We have another class of great
lines to which the obstacles were not so much mechanical as financial,
--the physical difficulties being quite secondary. Such are the
trunk lines from the East to the West,--through Buffalo, Erie, and
Cleveland, to Toledo and Detroit, and from Detroit to Chicago, Rock
Island, Burlington, Quincy, and St. Louis; from Pittsburg, Wheeling,
and Parkersburg, on the Ohio, to Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati,
Indianapolis, Louisville, and St. Louis; and from Cleveland, through
Columbus, to Cincinnati, and from Cincinnati to the Northwest.

In progress also may be noticed roads running west from St. Louis,
Hannibal, and Burlington, on the Mississippi, all tending towards
some point in Kansas, from which the great Pacific Road, the
crowning effort of American railway-engineering, may be supposed to
take its departure for California and Oregon.

The chief point of difference between the English and the American
engineer is, that the former defies all opposition from river and
mountain, maintains his line straight and level, fights Nature at
every point, cares neither for height nor depth, rock nor torrent,
builds his matchless roads through the snowy woods of Canada or over
the sandy plains of Egypt with as much unconcern as among the
pleasant fields of Hertford or Surrey, and spans with equal ease the
Thames, the Severn, the St. Lawrence, and the Nile. The words
"fail," "impossible," "can't be done," he knows not; and when all
other means of finding a firm base whereon to build his bridges and
viaducts fail, he puts in a foundation of golden guineas and silver
dollars, which always gives success.

On the other hand, the American engineer, always respectful (though
none the less determined) in the presence of natural obstacles to
his progress, bows politely to the opposing mountain-range, and,
bowing, passes around the base, saying, as he looks back, "You see,
friend, we need have no hard feelings,--the world is large enough
for thee and me." To the broad-sweeping river he gently hints,
"Nearer your source you are not so big, and, as I turned out for the
mountain, why should I not for the river?" till mountain and river,
alike aghast at the bold pigmy, look in silent wonder at the
thundering train which shoulders aside granite hills and tramples
rivers beneath its feet. But if Nature corners him between rocks
heavenward piled on the one hand an