tie was of polished California laurel. Nevada and Idaho each presented a spike of silver; from Arizona came a spike of gold, silver, and iron; from California, a spike of gold. A silver sledge hammer had been prepared for the occasion.

Telegraphic wires were attached to the rails in such a way that the blows of the sledge hammer could be reported instantly from sea to sea. The enthusiastic cheers which arose from the little company in the desert as the gold spike was driven in by the silver hammer were echoed from coast to coast. Says one writer:

Chicago had a procession seven miles long; New York hung out bunting, fired a hundred guns, and held thanksgiving services in Trinity; Philadelphia rang the old Liberty Bell; Buffalo sang the "Star-Spangled Banner"; and many towns burnt powder in honor of the completion of a work which gives us a road to the Indies, a means of making the United States a halfway house between the East and West, and last, but not least, a new guaranty of the perpetuity of the Union as it is.

With the exception of the Panama Canal, the Pacific Railway is the greatest engineering feat ever undertaken in America, perhaps in the world. Eighteen hundred miles of track were laid through an unsettled wilderness, much of which was infested with dangerous Indians. Mountains had to be tunneled, rivers and canyons bridged, alkali deserts and arid plains crossed. In money and land the railway is estimated to have cost the Government $830,000,000.

In general, the railroad followed the old Oregon trail to the north branch of the Platte River, then went directly west to California. Originally a large part of this trail was marked out along waterways by buffalo and other wild animals. The Indian followed the buffalo; the trader followed the Indian; the settler and gold seeker followed the trader; and last of all came the railway buffalo, Indian, trader, miner, surveyor, engineer, farmer. Such is the story of civilization in the far West.

Men seem to have thought that the value of the Pacific Railway would consist merely in reaching the coast or opening up oriental trade. While the road accomplished both these purposes,

its chief value lay in the fact that it opened up the interior of the continent to settlement.

So long as men have no road by which to market bulky commodities, such as the products of a farm, remote localities are closed to settlement. Only the attraction of gold, silver, or valuable diamond fields can overcome this obstacle. Of what use to raise quantities of crops or cattle or sheep if one can not sell the surplus? And how can one sell unless he can get his produce to the market?

When a railway is built or a canal dug, the way to the market is open. After railroads have been constructed, wheat and wool can be sold in London or New York; harvesting machinery and pianos can be purchased in Chicago or Paris. Through the building of railroads land is occupied; ranches are established; farms are cultivated; cities come into existence.

So it was with the Pacific Railway. As the lines were built from the East and from the West, a wider and wider ribbon of settlement grew up along their borders. Near the two approaching ends there were always towns which owed their existence to the presence of the railway employees. Like mushrooms, they grew up in a night; and for the most part they disappeared almost as soon, advancing into the interior with the gradual extension of the line. Wild, rough places they were, frequented by railway hands, gamblers, cowboys, Indians, and desperadoes. A few such towns became permanent cities and developed into prosperous, orderly communities.

When the railway was finished, branch lines were soon built to outlying points. Ranches and settlements multiplied. At connecting points the need of transshipment brought larger towns into existence. In such manner developed cities like Cheyenne and Laramie.

With the disappearance of the buffalo, cattle ranches made their appearance, extending their operations farther and farther as it became possible to ship cattle over the railway to eastern markets. Thus the far West was opened up to settlement.

The gigantic statue of Columbus, which Senator Benton wanted in the Rockies as a tribute to the completion of the Union Pacific Railroad, has been carved, but a far more significant

monument to the first continental railway was the organization of the Territory of Wyoming in 1868. Wyoming had its origin in the mushroom towns of the Union Pacific construction days. These towns owed their development to the traffic the road made possible. The fruitful farms and thriving ranches in the State were peopled through the railroad, obtained their farm machinery and supplies by its means, and to-day depend upon its services for the marketing of their surplus produce.

CLASS ACTIVITIES

1. Name five of the greatest difficulties of early railroad building in the order of their importance. Which company seemed to face the greater difficulties?

2. Trace the Union Pacific Railroad on a map of the United States. Include State lines and large cities through which the road passes.

3. What chief advantages were urged for a transcontinental road? Name all the transcontinental roads at present in the United States. Name all in North America.

4. Explain the advantages your city enjoys because of railway facilities. 5. How does the story "Turkey Red," p. 27, show the importance of a railroad?

6. Volunteer projects:

a. Make a collection of pictures to show where and how railroads are built.

b. Make a poster showing some of the old-fashioned engines and coaches of the early railway days.

ADDITIONAL READINGS. 1. "Over the Rockies by Electricity," J. Anderson, in St. Nicholas, 45:654-656. 2. "What Every Boy Should Know About a Locomotive," F. B. Masters, ibid., 42:531-541. 3. "Road Building,” A. C. Flagg, in Century Magazine, 57:139–149. 4. “A New Era in Transportation," S. W. Allender, in Scientific American, 127:9495. 5. "007," R. Kipling, The Day's Work, 243–265; 6. “From London to Australia by Aeroplane," R. Smith, in National Geographic Magazine, 40: 229-239. 7. 'America's Billion Dollar Industry," C. P. Burton, in Harper's Magazine, 145:24-34. 8. "Our Greatest Travelers," W. W. Cope, in National Geographic Magazine, 20:346–365. 9. "Good Roads and Civilization," Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia, 7:3023-3026. 10. "Icarus and Dædalus," Josephine P. Peabody, in C. Curry and E. E. Clippinger, Children's Literature, 336-337. 11. "Darius Green and His Flying Machine," J. T. Trowbridge, ibid., 432–436. 12. "All in a Day's Run," W. H. Foster, in Scribner's Magazine, 47:159–166. 13. “A Snowbound Christmas," F. C. Burr, in St. Nicholas, 24:99-106.

RAILROAD SERVICE

The next two stories show the faithful and intelligent service of engineers and firemen in an occupation which employs five million men in our country. The railroad service is the largest single occupation or profession in our country except home-making, farming, and teaching.

Read both selections silently, and at the close be able to tell:

1. What is the spirit of the men in the railroad service?

2. What chief traits of their intelligence and skill are shown here? 3. Which of the stories portrays the greater heroism?

2. ENGINEER MAITLAND

ANONYMOUS

Old Rusty had been a “crack” engine thirty years before, and long after every other locomotive of her pattern had been broken up into scrap iron, she was hauling a local express and making her thirty-two miles an hour like clockwork. But at last, because she looked so ridiculous beside the new engines, she was put to drawing freight from the company's shops to the stations on the main line.

Absurd as the old engine appeared, every engineer who handled her soon grew fond of her, even poor Hepburn, who went a little wrong in his head and lost his position. The yardmaster gave him odd jobs to make a living, and when in the course of his oiling and cleaning Hepburn came to Old Rusty he petted her as if she had been alive.

There never was a man, though, who thought so much of the engine as did young Maitland, Hepburn's successor. Maitland had fought his way up in the service, starting with everything against him. When Old Rusty was given him he set out to master her. At the end of the year, when the records of the locomotives were made up, the old engine was found to have used less fuel and cost less for repairs than any other locomotive on the road. Maitland could have had another engine and a passenger run, if he had wanted them.

"No," he said, "Old Rusty can teach me something yet, and

I like to be close to the shops, where I can have a chance to experiment and to pick up ideas."

One night in September Old Rusty, with steam up, was waiting for the departure of a "special" that carried the president of the road and an official party. Of course, a fast new locomotive was assigned to that train, which included two Pullmans, a sleeper and a baggage car, in addition to the president's private car. Five minutes before seven the party appeared. The president was holding his watch in his hand and looking worried. "I have just an hour to make forty miles," he said. As he spoke, the yardmaster came up to report that something was wrong with the crank pin of the locomotive, and that it would take twenty minutes to repair it.

"Is any other engine ready?" asked the president.

"Old Rusty is the only one, but she might make it," the yardmaster answered. The president laughed as he looked over at the ungainly old engine. He had heard something about the performances of Old Rusty and her engineer. In two minutes the new locomotive was run on a siding, Old Rusty was coupled to the train, and with a screech off she rattled to make forty miles in fifty-eight minutes.

Then something strange happened. The new engine had been left alone for the moment. Up sneaked Hepburn, the poor crazy fellow who had once been an engineer, jumped into the cab, pulled open the throttle, and was off on the main line before anyone realized his purpose.

The yardmaster rushed to the telegraph office. In a moment the message was ticked over the wires to the next stop, eight miles ahead, that a wild engine, manned by a crazy engineer, was loose on the road.

Maitland had none too much of a start, for it did not take Hepburn long to get his engine warmed to her work. At first three minutes separated the train and the wild engine, but only sixty seconds separated them when Maitland came to the end of the long curve at Berry Hill.

The engineer happened to glance back, and the sight that met his eyes made his heart leap and his face turn pale. Through the darkness, shining like an evil eye, came the headlight of the wild