At the moment, however, there was no time for conversation. We had reached the end of the city route; and, amid the crowd of new impressions, I found ample occupation for eye and thought. Before us, across a broad, open space of smooth concrete, rose the grand terminus. Toward this converged, not only all the city railroads, but also roads from every part of the Northern Hemisphere. Behring's Strait, long since bridged over, no longer opposed an obstacle to the passage of the rolling car. Lines of road from every part of the American continent converged toward that bridge, and carried on communication between ancient and famous cities having, as yet, neither name nor existence. From the spot where I stood I could be carried, without a break, to any part of the New World or the Old.
The terminus of such a traffic was, as may be imagined, of immense extent, the concourse prodigious. When it is stated, that comparatively few people remained in that great and crowded city overnight, it may be inferred how great was the multitude. Yet there was no hurry, no confusion. Each knew where to go: every thing was provided for. The immense throng was as courteous and self-possessed as the guests at a select reception.
Within a few minutes we were again speeding on our way, over a track as greatly surpassing in smoothness those of the present as these do the roads of our forefathers. The carriages differed, in many respects, from those now in use. For one thing, they were much wider, reminding me somewhat of the saloon of a riverboat. Yet these enormous cars were not of such unwieldy weight as might have been inferred from their
