There is no doubt that iron bridges can be made perfectly safe.  Their margin is greater than that of the boiler, the axles or the rail.  To make them safe, European governments depend upon rigid rules, and careful inspection to see that they are carried out.  In this country government inspection is not relied on with such certainty, and the spirit of our institutions leads us to depend more upon the action of self-interest and the inherent trustworthiness of mankind when indulged with freedom of action.  Though at times this confidence may seem vain, and “rings” in industrial pursuits, as in politics, appear to corrupt the honesty which forms the very foundation of freedom, yet their influence is but temporary, and as soon as the best public sentiment becomes convinced of the need for their removal their influence is destroyed.  Such evils are necessary incidents of our transitional movement toward an industrial, social and political organization in which the best intelligence and the most trustworthy honesty shall control these interests for the best advantage of society at large.  In the mean time, the best security for the safety of iron bridges is to be found in the self-interest of the railway corporations, who certainly do not desire to waste their money or to render themselves liable to damages from the breaking of their bridges, and who consequently will employ for such constructions those whose reputation has been fairly earned, and whose character is such that reliance can be placed in the honesty of their work.  Experience has given the world the knowledge needed to build bridges of iron which shall in all possible contingencies be safe, and there is no excuse for a penny-wise and pound-foolish policy when it leads to disaster.

Edward Rowland.

* * * * *

SEARCHING FOR THE QUININE-PLANT IN PERU.

SECOND PAPER.

The crystal peaks of the Andes were behind our explorers:  before, were their eastward-stretching spurs and their eastward-falling rivers.  On the mountain-flanks, as the last landmark of Christian civilization, nestled the village of Marcapata, whose square, thatched belfry faded gradually from sight, reminding the travelers of the ghostly ministrations of the padre and the secular protection of the gobernador.  Neither priest nor edile would they encounter until their return to the same church-tower.  Their patron, Don Juan Sanz de Santo Domingo, was already picking his way along the snowy defiles of the mountains to attain again his luxurious home in Cuzco.  Behind the adventurers lay companionship and society—­represented by the dubious orgies of the House of Austria—­and the security of civil government—­represented by the mortal ennui of a Peruvian city.  Before them lay difficulties and perhaps dangers, but also at least variety, novelty and possible wealth.

Colonel Perez, Marcoy and the examinador retained their horses, and a couple of the mozos their mules, the remainder of the beasts being kept at livery in Marcapata, and the muleteers volunteering to accompany the troupe as far as Chile-Chile:  at this point the bridle-path came to an end, and the gentlemen would have to dismount, accompanying thenceforth their peons on a literal “footing” of equality.