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are heard and seen by both man and boy; levers are drawn and withdrawn,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.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 49.—_Post Office Railway Van._
]
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.
[Illustration:
FIG. 50.—_Gower Street Station, Metropolitan Railway._
]
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.
[Illustration:
FIG. 51.—_Map of the Route of the Pacific Railway._
]
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.
[Illustration:
FIG. 52.—_Trestle Bridge._
]
Echo Canyon is a ravine 7 miles long, about half a mile broad, flanked
by precipitous cliffs, from 300 to 800 ft. high, and presenting a
succession of wild and grand scenery. In Weber Canyon the river foams
and rushes along between the mountains, which rise in massive grandeur
on either side, plunging and eddying among the huge masses of rock
fallen from the cliffs above. Along a part of the chasm the railway is
cut in the side of the steep mountain, descending directly to the bed of
the stream. Where the road could not be carried round or over the spurs
of the mountains it passes through tunnels, often cut through solid
stone. A few miles farther the line reaches the city of Ogden, in the
state of Utah, the territory of the Mormons. This territory contains
upwards of 65,000 square miles, and though the land is not naturally
productive, it has, by irrigation, been brought into a high state of
cultivation, and it abounds in valuable minerals, so that it now
supports a population of 80,000 persons.
[Illustration:
FIG. 53.—_American Canyon._
]
We have now arrived at Ogden, where the western portion of the great
railway line connecting the two oceans unites to the Union Pacific we
have just described. This western portion is known as the Central
Pacific Railroad, and it stretches from Ogden to San Francisco, a
distance of 882 miles.