The next morning, when Steve woke to the swaying of the train and a drowsy sense of confusion and smoke, he could not for an instant think where he was; but it did not take long for him to open his eyes, recollect the happenings of the previous day, smile with satisfaction, and hurriedly wriggle into his clothes.

Already he could hear his father stirring in the berth below and presently the elder man called:

"We shall be in New York in half-an-hour, son, so get your traps packed up. How did you sleep?"

"Sound as a top!"

"That is fine! I was afraid you might not rest very well. As I observed last night, a sleeping car is not all that it might be. The day will come when it will have to be improved. However, since it gets us to New York safely and economizes hours of day travel, it is a blessing for which we should be grateful."

As he spoke he moved into the aisle and helped the boy down from his perch; they then sought out a distant seat where they dropped down and watched the rapidly passing landscape.

"I have been thinking, as I was dressing, of the story you told me last night about our American railroads," said the lad. "It surprised me a good deal to hear that the South took the lead over the North in the introduction of the steam locomotive."

Mr. Tolman smiled into the eager face.

"While it is true that South Carolina took the initiative in railroading for a short time the South did not remain long in the ascendency," he answered, "for the third steam locomotive put into actual passenger service was built at Albany. This city, because of its geographical position, was a great stagecoach center, having lines that radiated from it into the interior in almost every direction. And not only was it an important coaching rendezvous but as it was also a leading commercial tributary of New York the Mohawk and Hudson Railroad had built a short track between Albany and Schenectady and supplied it with cars propelled by horse power. Now in 1831 the company decided to transform this road into a steam railroad and to this end ordered a steam locomotive called the 'DeWitt Clinton' to be constructed at West Point with the aim of demonstrating to the northern States the advantages of steam transportation. You can imagine the excitement this announcement caused. Think, if you had never seen a steam engine, how eager you would be to behold the wonder. These olden time New Yorkers felt precisely the same way. Although the route was
only sixteen miles long the innovation was such a novel and tremendous one that all along the way crowds of spectators assembled to watch the passing of the magic train. At the starting point near the Hudson there was a dense throng of curious onlookers who gathered to see for the first time in all their lives the steam locomotive and its brigade of coaches,—for in those days people never spoke of a train of cars; a group of railroad carriages was always known as a brigade, and the term coach was, and in many cases still is applied to the cars. This train that created so much interest was practically like Stephenson's English trains, being made up of a small locomotive, a tender, and two carriages constructed by fastening stagecoach bodies on top of railroad trucks. Stout iron chains held these vehicles together—a primitive, and as it subsequently proved, a very impractical method of coupling."

"It must have been a funny enough train!" Steve exclaimed.

"I doubt if it appeared so to the people of that time," his father returned, "for since the audience of that period had nothing with which to compare it, it probably seemed quite the ordinary thing. Was it not like the railroad trains used in England? How was America to know anything different? Yes, I am sure the 'DeWitt Clinton' was considered a very grand affair indeed, even though it was only a small engine without a cab, and had barely enough platform for the engineer to stand upon
while he drove the engine and fed the pitch-pine logs into the furnace."

"How many people did the train hold?" inquired Steve, with growing curiosity.

"Each coach carried six persons inside and two outside," was Mr. Tolman's reply, "and on this first eventful trip not quite enough adventurous souls could be found to fill the seats. Perhaps could the unwary passengers who did go have foreseen the discomforts ahead of them there would have been fewer yet. But often ignorance is bliss. It certainly was so in this case for in high feather the fortunate ones took their places, the envied of many a beholder."

"What happened?" asked the boy eagerly. "Was the trip a success?"

"That depends on what you mean by success," laughed his father. "If you are asking whether the passengers arrived safely at Schenectady I can assure you that they did; but if you wish to know whether the journey was a comfortable one, and likely to convert the stranger to steam travel, that is quite another matter. The description of the excursion which history has handed down to us is very naïve. In the first place the pitch-pine fuel sent a smudge of smoke and cinders back over all the passengers and if it did not entirely choke them it at least encrusted them thickly with dirt, particularly the ones who sat outside. The umbrellas they opened to protect themselves were soon demolished, their coverings being blown away or
burned up by the sparks. In fact, it was only by continual alertness that the clothing of the venturesome travelers was not ignited. In the meantime those inside the coaches fared little better, for as the coaches were without springs and the track was none too skilfully laid, the jolting of the cars all but sent the heads of the passengers through the roof of the coaches. Added to this the train proceeded in a series of jerks that wrenched the chains and banged one coach into another with such violence that those outside were in danger of being hurled down upon the track, and those inside were tossed hither and thither from seat to seat. You will easily comprehend that the outing was not one of unalloyed pleasure."

The boy laughed heartily.

"Of course," went on Mr. Tolman, "there was no help for anybody until the first stopping place was reached; but when the engine slowed down and the grimy, almost unrecognizable pilgrims had a chance to catch their breath, something had to be done by way of a remedy. The remedy fortunately was near at hand and consisted of nothing very difficult. Some of the more enterprising of the company leaped out and tore the rails from a near-by fence and after stretching the coupling chains taut, they bound them to the wooden boards. In this way the coaches were kept apart and the silk hats of the dignitaries who had been invited to participate in the opening of the road rescued from total annihilation."

"I'll bet everybody was glad to disembark at Schenectady," declared Stephen.

"I'll wager they were! They must have been exhausted from being jounced and jostled about. Nevertheless the novelty of the adventure probably brought its own compensations, and they were doubtless diverted from their woes by the sight of the cheering and envious spectators, the terrified horses, and the open-mouthed children that greeted them wherever they went."

"But the promoters could hardly expect the public to be very keen for a steam railroad after such an exhibition," reflected Steve.

"Fortunately our forefathers were not as critical as you," said his father, "and in consequence the coach line from Albany to Schenectady was speedily supplanted by a steam railroad, as were the various coach lines into the interior of the State. As a result hundreds of broken-down coach horses were turned out to pasture, a merciful thing. Gradually a series of short steam railway lines were constructed from one end of the State to the other, until in 1851 these were joined together to make a continuous route to Lake Erie. Perhaps we have only scant appreciation of the revolution that came with this advance in transportation. It meant the beginning of travel and commerce between the eastern States and those in the interior of the country; it also meant the speedy shipment of eastern products to the West, where they were greatly needed, and the reception of western commodities
in the East. But more than all this, it signified a bond of fellowship between the scattered inhabitants of the same vast country who up to this time had been almost total strangers to one another, and was a mighty stride in the direction of national loyalty and sympathy. Therefore it was entirely seemly that Millard Fillmore, then President of the United States, and Daniel Webster, the Secretary of State, should be honored guests at the celebration that attended the opening of the railroad."

"Did the road reach no farther than Lake Erie?" asked Stephen.

"Not at first," replied his father. "From that point commerce was carried on by means of ships on the Great Lakes. But in time western railroad companies began to build short stretches of track which later on they joined together as the other railroad builders had done."

"Did the line go all the way across the country?"

"Oh, no, indeed. Our trans-continental railroads were a mighty project in themselves and their story is a romance which I will tell you some other time. Before such stupendous enterprises could be realities, our young, young country had a vast deal of growing to do, and its infant railroads and engineering methods had to be greatly improved. So long as we still built roads where the rails were liable to come up through the floor and injure the passengers, and where the tracks were not strongly enough constructed to resist floods and freshets,
our steam locomotion could not expect any universal degree of popularity."

"I don't suppose, though, that the cows continued to tip the cars over and turn the passengers out into the dirt as they did in the days of Peter Cooper," mused Steve thoughtfully.

"They may not have derailed the trains," his father replied quite seriously, "but they often did delay them. Nor could the passengers be blamed for finding fault with the unheated cars, or the fact that sometimes, when it snowed hard, the engineer ran his engine under cover and refused to go on, leaving those on the train the choice of staying where they were until the storm abated or going on foot to their destination."

"Not really!"

"Yes, indeed. Such things happened quite frequently. Then there are stories of terrible gales when the snow piled up on the track until the engine had to be dug out, for snow plows did not keep the tracks clear then as they do now; nor was it an uncommon thing for the mud from the spring washouts to submerge the rails, in which case the engines had to be pulled out of the mire by oxen. In fact, at certain seasons of the year some trains carried oxen for this very purpose. For you must remember that the engines of that date were not powerful enough to make progress through mud, snow, or against fierce head winds. Often a strong gale would delay them for hours or bring them to a standstill altogether."

"Well, I guess it is no wonder we were not equipped to build a trans-continental road under such conditions," said the lad, with a quiet smile.

"Oh, these defects were only a minor part of our railroad tribulations," responded his father. "For example, when Pennsylvania started her first railroad the year after the line between New York and Schenectady was laid, there was a fresh chapter of obstacles. Strangely enough, the locomotive, 'Old Ironsides,' was built by Mr. M. W. Baldwin, whose name has since become celebrated as the founder of the Baldwin Locomotive Works. In 1832, however, the Baldwin locomotive was quite a different product from the present-day magnificently constructed steam engine. This initial attempt at locomotive building was a queer little engine with wheels so light that unless there was plenty of ballast aboard it was impossible to keep it on the track; and besides that, the poor wee thing could not get up steam enough to start itself and in consequence Mr. Baldwin and some of his machinists were obliged to give it a violent push whenever it set out and then leap aboard when it was under way in order to weigh it down and keep it on the track."

"Imagine having to hold an engine down!" ejaculated Steve, with amusement.

"The story simply goes to prove how much in the making locomotives really were," Mr. Tolman said. "And not only did this toy engine have to be started by a friendly push, but it was too feeble
to generate steam fast enough to keep itself going after it was once on its way. Therefore every now and then the power would give out and Mr. Baldwin and his men would be forced to get out and run along beside the train, pushing it as they went that it might keep up its momentum until a supply of steam could again be acquired. Can you ask for anything more primitive than that?"

"It certainly makes one realize the progress locomotive builders have made," the boy replied, with gravity.

"It certainly does," agreed his father. "Think how Baldwin and his men must have struggled first with one difficulty and then with another; think how they must have experimented and worked to perfect the tiny engine with which they began! It was the conquering of this multitude of defects that gave to the world the intricate, exquisitely made machine which at this very minute is pulling you and me into New York."

There was an interval of silence during which Stephen glanced out at the flying panorama framed by the window.

"Where was New England all this time?" demanded he, with jealous concern. "Didn't Massachusetts do anything except build the old granite road at Quincy?"

"Railroads, for various reasons, were not popular in Massachusetts," returned his father. "As usual New England was conservative and was therefore slow in waking up to the importance of
steam transportation. Boston was on the coast, you see, and had its ships as well as the canal boats that connected the city with the manufacturing districts of the Merrimac. Therefore, although the question of building railroads was agitated in 1819 nothing was done about the matter. As was natural the canal company opposed the venture, and there was little enthusiasm elsewhere concerning a project that demanded a great outlay of money with only scant guarantee that any of it would ever come back to the capitalists who advanced it. Moreover, the public in general was sceptical about railroads or else totally uninterested in them. And even had a railroad been built at this time it would not have been a steam road for it was proposed to propel the cars by horse power just as those at Quincy had been."

"Oh!" interjected Steve scornfully. "They might at least have tried steam."

"People had little faith in it," explained Mr. Tolman. "Those who had the faith lacked the money to back the enterprise, and those who had the money lacked the faith. If a company could have gone ahead and built a steam railroad that was an unquestioned success many persons would undoubtedly have been convinced of its value and been willing to put capital into it; but as matters stood, there was so much antagonism against the undertaking that nobody cared to launch the venture. There were many business men who honestly regarded a steam railroad as a menace to
property and so strong was this feeling that in 1824 the town of Dorchester, a village situated a short distance from Boston, actually took legal measures to prevent any railroad from passing through its territory."

"They needn't have been so fussed," said Stephen, with a grin. "Railroads weren't plenty enough to worry them!"

"Oh, the Quincy road was not the only railroad in Massachusetts," his father asserted quickly, "for in spite of opposition a railroad to Lowell, modeled to some extent after the old granite road, had been built. This railroad was constructed on stone ties, as the one at Quincy had been; for although such construction was much more costly it was thought at the time to be far more durable. Several years afterward, when experience had demonstrated that wood possessed more give, and that a hard, unyielding roadbed only creates jar, the granite ties that had cost so much were taken up and replaced by wooden ones."

"What a shame!"

"Thus do we live and learn," said his father whimsically. "Our blunders are often very expensive. The only redeeming thing about them is that we pass our experience on to others and save them from tumbling into the same pit. Thus it was with the early railroad builders. When the Boston and Providence Road was constructed this mistake was not repeated and a flexible wooden roadbed was laid. In the meantime a short steam
railroad line had been built from Boston to Newton, a distance of seven miles, and gradually the road to this suburb was lengthened until it extended first to Natick and afterward to Worcester, a span of forty-four miles. Over this road, during fine weather, three trains ran daily; in winter there were but two. I presume nothing simpler or less pretentious could have been found than this early railroad whose trains were started at the ringing of a bell hung on a near-by tree. Although it took three hours to make a trip now made in one, the journey was considered very speedy, and unquestionably it was if travelers had to cover the distance by stagecoach. When we consider that in 1834 it took freight the best part of a week to get to Boston by wagons a three-hour trip becomes a miracle."

"I suppose there was not so much freight in those days anyway," Steve speculated.

"Fortunately not. People had less money and less leisure to travel, and therefore there were not so many trunks to be carried; I am not sure, too, but the frugal Americans of that day had fewer clothes to take with them when they did go. Then, as each town or district was of necessity more or less isolated, people knew fewer persons outside of their own communities, did a less extensive business, and had less incentive to go a-visiting. Therefore, although the Boston and Worcester Railroad could boast only two baggage cars (or burthen cars, as they were called), the supply was
sufficient, which was fortunate, especially since the freight house in Boston was only large enough to shelter these two."

"And out of all this grew the Boston and Albany Railroad?" questioned the boy.

"Yes, although it was not until 1841, about eight years later, that the line was extended to New York State. By that time tracks had been laid through the Berkshire hills, opening up the western part of Massachusetts. The story of that first momentous fifteen-hour journey of the Boston officials to the New York capital, where they were welcomed and entertained by the Albany dignitaries, is picturesque reading indeed. One of the party who set out from Boston on that memorable day carried with him some spermaceti candles which on the delegates' arrival were burned with great ceremony at the evening dinner."

"I suppose it seemed a wonderful thing to reach Albany in fifteen hours," remarked Steve.

"It was like a fairy tale," his father answered. "To estimate the marvel to the full you must think how long it would have taken to drive the distance, or make the journey by water. Therefore the Boston officials burned their spermaceti candles in triumph; and the next day, when the Albany hosts returned to Boston with their guests, they symbolized the onrush of the world's progress by bringing with them a barrel of flour which had been cut, threshed, and ground only two days before, and put into a wooden barrel made from a tree which
was cut down, sawed, and put together while the flour was being ground. This does not seem to us anything very astounding but it was a feat to stop the breath in those days."

"And what did they do with the flour?"

"Oh, that evening when they reached Boston the flour was made into some sort of bread which was served at the dinner the Boston men gave to their visitors."

"I wonder what they would have said if somebody had told them then that sometime people would be going from Boston to New York in five hours?" the lad observed.

"I presume they would not have believed it," was the reply. "Nor would they have been able to credit tales of the great numbers of persons who would constantly be traveling between these two great cities. At that time so few people made the trip that it was very easy to keep track of them; and that they might be identified in case of accident the company retained a list of those who went on the trains. At first this rule worked very well, the passengers being carefully tabulated, together with their place of residence; but later, when traffic began to increase and employees began to have more to do, those whose duty it was to make out these lists became hurried and careless and in the old railroad annals we read such entries as these:

"'Woman in green bonnet; boy; stranger; man with side whiskers,' etc."

A peal of laughter broke from Stephen.

"Railroad officials would have some job to list passengers now, wouldn't they?" he said. "We should all just have to wear identification tags as the men did during the War."

His father acquiesced whimsically.

"I have sometimes feared we might have to come to that, anyway," he replied. "With the sky populated with aeroplanes and the streets filled with automobiles man stands little chance in these days of preserving either his supremacy or his identity. When we get on Fifth Avenue to-day you see if you do not agree with me," he added, as the train pulled into the big station.