The States had put aside their jealousy, and begun to pull together in enterprises the like of which had never been known. We were laying iron rails across the deserts, and would soon be scaling the Rockies with them. Engines had climbed the Alps and swung in little curves, hauling a forty-ton train over Mont Cenis and the Semmering at twelve miles an hour. But the work we had begun was vaster and more difficult. It was in January, 1866, when we were together in Albany, that the gentleman said to me one day: “The battle is on. I knew it was coming, although I haven't said anything about it. The Central is fighting the Commodore. He has so much power in the board that they're afraid of him. In summer they've been sending their south-bound freight by the river boats. In winter, when the river was closed, of course they've been glad to use the Vanderbilt roads to New York. The Commodore has got ugly, and begun to jerk the bull ring.” “The bull ring!” I exclaimed. “Exactly,” he went on. “It's the middle of January, and the ice is a foot thick on the Hudson, and, somehow, the Central freight doesn't move. They've begun to yell at the Commodore, and he answers, 'Use the boats.' 'They answer, 'The river is frozen.' He says, 'Well, pull your trains into Albany on time, and I'll do my best for you.' “Now, there's where he's got 'em. They can't get here on time, and never do. Their freight is piling up, their passengers never make their connections for the South. The Commodore's trains used to wait, now they leave promptly on time. Lately there's been something the matter with the tracks on the east side of the river, and Mr. Vanderbilt's trains haven't been able to reach Albany at all.” The gentleman paused, and began to laugh. “The Central yards and storehouses are overflowing, patrons and stockholders have set up a howl,” he went on. “What does it mean?” I asked. “Progress,” he answered. “God has found the will of a Cæsar to perform His wonders. When it's time for a great thing to be done, it's done, and little people have to get out of the way.” “But the bull ring seems to me rather oppressive,” I suggested. “It is oppressive, and a godsend, too, when the bull won't lead,” said the gentleman. “What would you do with men like Richmond and Drew? Would you try to persuade them? Suppose, too, there were a lot of people who expected you to bribe them out of the way? Why, in such a case we need power, and it's down at No. 10 Washington Square. In a month Mr. Vanderbilt will own the Central lines, then--” The gentleman paused, and turned and looked at me.