“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.
“Why, it's the beginning of a new emancipation,” he said. “It will break the bonds of distance and set us free. In a few years we shall take our train in New York and leave it in San Francisco. The desert plains will be settled and tilled, and there will be great cities where there's nothing now but gophers and wild sage. Why, in the Far West there's land enough for all the oppressed of Europe.”
It was the first time that I had heard the phrase now so well worn.