If George Stephenson, when he placed the first locomotive on the track and guaranteed it a speed of six miles an hour, could have foreseen that in less than eighty years the successors of his rude machine would be climbing the sides of mountain ranges, piercing gorges hitherto deemed inaccessible, crossing ravines on bridges higher than the dome of St. Paul's, and traversing the bowels of the earth by means of tunnels, no doubt his big blue eyes would have stood out with wonder and amazement. But he foresaw nothing of the kind; the only problem present in his mind was how to get goods from the seaports in western England to London as easily and cheaply as possible, and to do this he substituted for horses, which had for 150 years been drawing cars along wooden or iron tracks, the wonderful machine which has revolutionized the freight and passenger traffic of the world.

It was, indeed, impossible for any one to foresee the triumphs of engineering which have accompanied the advances in transportation. To the engineer of the present day there are no impossibilities. The engineer is a wizard at whose command space and matter are annihilated. The highest mountain, the deepest valley, has no terrors for him. He can bridge the latter and encircle or tunnel the former. The only requisites which he demands are that something in his line be needed, and that the money is forthcoming to defray the expense, and the thing will be done. But the railroad he is asked to construct must be necessary, and the necessity must be plainly shown, or no funds will be advanced; and although the theory does not invariably hold good, especially when a craze for railroad building is raging, as a rule no expense for the construction of a road will be incurred without a prospect of remuneration.

Hence the need of railroad communication has caused lines to be constructed through districts where only a few years ago the thing would have been deemed impossible. The Pacific roads of this country were a necessity long before their construction, and in the face of difficulties almost insuperable were carried to successful completion. So, also, of the railroads in the Andes of South America. The famous road from Callao through the heart of Peru is one of the highest mountain roads in the world, as well as of the most difficult construction. The grades are often of 300 feet and more to the mile, and when the mountains were reached so great were the difficulties the engineers were forced to confront that in some places laborers were lowered from cliffs by ropes in order that, with toil and difficulty, they might carve a foothold in order to begin the cutting for the roadway.

In some sections tunnels are more numerous than open cuts, and so far as the road has gone sixty-one tunnels, great and small, have been constructed, aggregating over 20,000 feet in length. The road attains a height of 15,000 feet above the level of the sea, and at the highest point of the track is about as high as the topmost peak of Mont Blanc. It pierces the range above it by a tunnel 3,847 feet long. The stern necessities of business compelled the construction of this road, otherwise it never would have been begun.

The tunnels of the Andes, however, do not bear comparison with the tunnels, bridges, and snow sheds of the Union Pacific, nor do even these compare with the vast undertakings in the Alps--three great tunnels of nine to eleven miles in length, which have been prepared for the transit of travelers and freight. The requirements of business necessitated the piercing of the Alps, and as soon as the necessity was shown, funds in abundance were forthcoming for the enterprise.

But tunneling a mountain is a different thing from climbing it. Many years ago the attention of inventors was directed to the practicability of constructing a railroad up the side of a mountain on grades which, to an ordinary engine, were quite impossible. The improvements in locomotives twenty-five and thirty years ago rendered them capable of climbing grades which, in the early days of railroad engineering, were deemed out of the question. The improvements proved a serious stumbling block in the way of the inventors, who found that an ordinary locomotive was able to climb a much steeper grade than was commonly supposed. The first railroads were laid almost level, but it was soon discovered that a grade of a few feet to the mile was no impediment to progress, and gradually the grade was steepened.

The inventors of mountain railroad transportation might have been discouraged by this discovery, but it is a characteristic of an inventor that he is not set back by opposition, which, in fact, only serves to stimulate his zeal. The projectors of inclined roads and mountain engines kept steadily on, and in France, Germany, England, and the United States many experimental roads were constructed, each of a few hundred yards in length, and locomotive models were built and put in motion to the amazement of the general public, who jeered alike at the contrivances and the contrivers, deeming the former impracticable and the latter crazy.

But the idea of building a road up the side of a hill was not to be dismissed. There was money in it for the successful man, so the cranky inventors kept on at work in spite of the jeers of the rabble and the discouragements of capitalists loath to invest their money in an uncertain scheme. To the energy and perseverance of railroad inventors the success of the mountain railroad is due, as also is the construction of the various mountain roads, of which the road up Mt. Washington, finished in 1868, was the first, and the road up Pike's Peak, completed the other day, was the latest.

Of all the mountain roads which have been constructed since the one up Mt. Washington was finished, the best known is that which ascends the world-famous Rigi. With the exception of Mont Blanc, Rigi is, perhaps, the best known of any peak in the Alps, though it is by no means the highest, its summit being but 5,905 feet above the level of the sea. Although scarcely more than a third of the height of some other mountains in the Alps, it seems much higher because of its isolated position. Standing as it does between lakes Lucerne, Zug, and Lowertz, it commands a series of fine views in every direction, and he who looks from the summit of Rigi, if he does no other traveling in Switzerland, can gain a fair idea of the Swiss mountain scenery. Many of the most noted peaks are in sight, and from the Rigi can be seen the three lakes beneath, the villages which here and there dot the shores, and, further on, the mighty Alps, with their glaciers and eternal snows.