down come the bridge, the passengers, and
all. In short (we still quote the some
people), both bridge and tunnel, when
made, would be in unstable equilibrium.
They could retain their serviceableness and
their safety, only during the good pleasure
of the elements: with what we call
"accidents," that is, the ever-acting tendencies
of natural forces, constantly working
towards their destruction.

The new proposal of travelling "from
London to Paris on dry land," originating
with M. Burel, is at least one of stable
equilibrium. When fully, completely, and
solidly accomplished, it is not a trifle that can
destroy it. It is not a question whether an
iron tube, between two props, will or will
not sink by its own proper weight; it is
not a question whether air-pumps can be
kept working uninterruptedly, to maintain
an unfailing supply of oxygen, and
whether water, so fond of leaking in at the
slightest cranny, can be prevented from
indulging its natural propensity. It is a
question of time, and labour, and material;
consequently a question of expense; with
the great encouragement that money so
expended need not in the end be money
absolutely thrown away. Not only is there
feasibility of execution; there is also a good
prospect of permanence. Certainly it will
cost money, and not a little money; but that
is comparatively a minor point. In such
works stability and assured freedom from
danger are the grand desiderata. We do
not, however, imagine that the present
project is likely to be ever accomplished,
as projected. With considerable modifications,
it may be—perhaps.

Geologists are generally agreed that
England and France were once joined by
an isthmus; but they do not assign a date
to the disruption. One learned
astronomo-geologist, M. Adhemab, fixes it at about
fourteen thousand years ago, at the last grand
deluge but one: not Noah's deluge, but
the one previous to Noah's; for he holds
grand deluges to be periodical and
inevitable, under the existing physical
conditions of the globe. Thank Heaven—or
thank our Anno Domini—he consoles us
by the assurance that another grand
deluge will not occur in our time. Be that
as it may, M. Burel, a French engineer,
would now set to work to restore the
vanished strip of terra firma: at the same
time kindly leaving it " pierced," so that
we should not have to repeat M. de Lesseps's
Egyptian labours. He only intends to
narrow the Strait to the width of a thousand
mètres, a kilomètre, or four furlongs
two hundred and thirteen yards, more than
half a mile. This, the very narrowest part
of his ship canal, will be sufficiently wide to
allow of the passage of vessels of all nations
to and fro. In both directions, east and
west, the opposite shores are gradually to
recede, and the Channel is consequently
to widen, along a line of about six
kilomètres—say four miles—and then abruptly
turn back till they reach the present terra
firma.

By this arrangement, Boulogne,
Folkestone, and Dover, would become inland
towns. Would the new position suit their
views in more senses than one? M. Burel
does not inquire. Folkestone ought to be
satisfied with its increased importance as
a station on the overland route between
London and Paris; Boulogne with the
same advantages, increased by a
magnificent dock, twenty kilomètres long and
six hundred mètres wide, to be formed
by conducting its river (rivulet), the
Liane, from the town to its future outlet
in the North Sea. A similar arrangement
would prolong the port of Dover to the
new shore, opposite to the new mouth of
the Liane. Either of these harbours of
refuge would be capable of receiving half
a dozen fleets.

Although the new railway to be thus
laid down may fairly call itself a terra
firma line, still there is the kilomètre of
water to cross—a mere nothing. M. Burel
effects the passage by running the trains
on to a steam ferry waiting for them in a
convenient cove. As soon as it has received
its burden, it starts with steam up, and
deposits its load on a similar wharf on the
opposite shore, after a passage of five
minutes only. Think of that, all ye
squeamish, weak- stomached passengers,
between Folkestone and Boulogne, in
boisterous weather!

It is needless to trouble the reader with
complex details respecting the construction
and navigation of the new pontoons
(which ought to issue from and enter
their landing places securely, whatever
the temper of the elements), and which
would communicate with the land railway
in all states of the tide, by means of
floating jetties, &c. It is easy to admit
the possibility of fulfilling all these
indispensable conditions, by means not widely
different from those now employed in
embarkations.

One of the elements of success on which
M. Burel reckons the most, is the tranquillity