Such a triumph of commercial enterprise was enough to satisfy the pride and ambition of any man; but it was not in Mr. Field's nature to rest content with any success, however great, and he was always reaching out for some new undertaking to give scope to his restless activity. Such an opportunity he found in giving rapid transit to New York, a city which, though it has one of the finest harbors in the world, with approaches from the sea that afford every possible advantage for commerce, is not so favorably situated landward, as it is built on a long and narrow island, between two broad rivers, which confine it on either side, so that it is stretched out to such distances that it is no easy matter to pass from one end to the other. From the Battery to the Harlem river is ten miles, so that working men, who lived so far away, were an hour or more in getting from their homes to their place of work, and as long in getting back again, a large inroad upon their hours of rest or domestic comfort. The only means of transportation was by street cars, which moved slowly, and in winter, whenever the streets were blocked with snow, were crowded to suffocation, and dragged at a snail's pace to the upper end of the island. This was the great barrier to the city's growth, and must be removed if it was not to be stunted and dwarfed by these limitations. To furnish some relief, an elevated railroad, built on stilts, had been attempted on a small scale, but soon broke down, when Mr. Field bought the control of the whole concern, and took it in his own strong arms. It was no easy matter to galvanize it into life, for though it had a charter, it was still obstructed in the legislature, and in the courts, so that it was a long time before he could get full possession. But once master of the situation, he undertook the work on a grand scale, and pushed it with such vigor that in less than two years the road was in operation. It has since been extended with the public demand, until now (in 1892) there are thirty-six miles of road, over which the trains sweep incessantly from the bay to the river, and from the river to the bay. The structures are not indeed the most graceful in the world, as they bestride the long avenues of the city. But these tall iron pillars, that line our streets for miles, are the long legs of civilization, and have a somewhat imposing effect as they stretch away into the distance, with the fire-drawn cars flying swiftly over them. Dean Stanley glorified them by a historical parallel which could occur only to one full of the wonders of ancient times, that started into life under the touch of his imagination. Going with him one day on an excursion, he stepped briskly (for his frame was so light as to offer little impediment to motion), and as he mounted the long stairway, and stood on the platform above the crowded street below, he exclaimed, "This is Babylonian! Four chariots driving abreast on the walls of the city!"