To atoms it flew, but no one was hurt, Only some of the passengers covered with dirt. The fireman was found half a mile from the spot, Safely lodged in a village whose name I’ve forgot, While the engineer’s body was plunged in the sand Hid entirely from sight save a part of one hand. Both were struck with amaze at the quick change of base, But the sole damage done, was a scratch on each face. The reason was clear--their lives were insured And their limbs and their senses forever secured By a policy made with the greatest reliance In the “Fearless Assurance and Perpetual Defiance.” The next sound arresting my listening ear, Was so soft and so musical, gentle and clear, I knew it was sent by a company famed, (The Harmonic Acoustic Tube Union, named,) To a dozen performers, each one at his home, In London, Pekin, Paris, Athens and Rome, To give in New York, at mass concerts free, Oratorios by telegraph under the sea. Then was heard such a hum from the mingled replies, I could hear nothing more, but, trusting my eyes, Looked around as I strolled along each crowded street, Some items to learn or acquaintance to meet. The houses looked strange as if turned all to stone, With huge gaudy creepers and ivy o’ergrown. Whether brick, wood or plaster, no signs of decay Could be seen, though an age had no doubt rolled away Since each corner-stone was laid deep and fast By the wise master builder, all time to outlast. ’Twas a certain tried method, not patent, for all Enjoyed, free from tax, what inventions we call. A liquid cement was poured on each place, That hardened in time to a smooth flinty face. No wear could affect it--hot, cold, wet or dry, It was always the same to the touch and the eye. “Here’s a hint” I exclaimed, “to the men of our day, Whose work is so apt to break or decay.” “We are all honest, friend!” said some one quite near, Your remark shows how little you know of us here.” I turned to reply, but no one was in sight, When I saw with surprise and indeed with delight, That a double-track railway, as smooth as a floor, Had been thoroughly laid, a few years before. A train was approaching--no whistle was heard In loud screeching tones to drown every word, But, soft as the evening wind wafted along, Rung out the soft notes of that sweet Sabbath song “There’s a happy land, far away, far away!” ’Till I thought they foretold a millenial day. I wondered to see cars go noiselessly by, When the rubber-tired wheels arrested my eye, While each one inside looked calm and composed. As they talked or they wrote, reflected or dozed, And no thought of danger produced any dread, For a tall thin Director walked quickly ahead. In less than a minute the cars disappeared, And I judged, on that line no collision was feared.