At Omaha, on the Missouri, the Pacific Railway _proper_ commences, although the various New York and other lines, as we have seen, connect with it. The river, irreverently known on the spot as “The Great Muddy,” from the colour of its water and its numerous sand and mud banks, is crossed at this point by a fine bridge. _Apropos_ of the said banks, which are constantly shifting, a story is told of a countryman who, years ago, before the age of steam ferries, wanted to cross the Missouri near this point. He did not see his way till he observed a sand‐bank “washing‐up,” as they call it, to the surface of the water near the shore on which he stood. He jumped on it, and it shifted so rapidly that it took him clear across the river, and he was able to land on the opposite side! The story is an exaggerated version of fact. The shifting sand‐banks make navigation perilous, and good river pilots command a high figure. The literature of the railway has hardly yet been attempted. It is true that scarcely a day passes without something of interest transpiring in connection therewith: now some grand improvement, now a terrible accident or narrow escape, and now again the opening of some important line. The humours of railroad travel—good and bad—often enliven the pages of our comic journals, while the strictly mechanical aspect of the subject is fully treated in technical papers. But the facts remain that all this is of a transient nature, and that the railway can hardly be said yet to have a literature of its own. [Illustration: MADISON STREET, CHICAGO.] The following episodes mainly refer to the grand railway under notice, which is by all odds the longest direct road on the surface of the globe. From New York to San Francisco the distance by this railway is 3,300 miles, and the ticket for the through journey is about two feet long! This would be more justly described as a series of tickets or coupons. The writer has crossed the American continent twice by this route, his first trip having been made on its completion in 1869, when, as correspondent of a daily journal, he had ample facilities for examining it in detail. In Chicago he had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Pullman, who kindly furnished him with information which in those days, at all events, was new to the British public. He was even then trying to get his famous carriages introduced into England; as events proved, it took him several years to get them even tested. In this connection he is credited with a _bon mot_. He was speaking of our land in the highest terms, but, like many Americans, did not think we adopted new ideas with sufficient readiness. “It is a grand country,” said he, “a grand country. But you have to be born _very_ young there;” meaning that otherwise you might grow grey in the consummation of even a promising scheme.