ing!

But we are anticipating events. At the end of August, 1861, the first
sod had been cut at Ellesmere, where it was proposed to begin the
construction, proceeding first in the direction of Whitchurch. The
ceremony was performed by Sir John Hanmer and Mr. John Stanton, in a
field belonging to Mr. W. A. Provis, "not far from the workhouse," and a
spade and barrow, suitably inscribed, was presented to Sir John by
Messrs. Savin and Ward, the contractors. There was the usual ceremonial,
inclusive of banqueting and speech-making, and banners, emblazoned with
such appropriate mottoes as "Whalley for ever," "Hurrah for Sir John
Hanmer and John Stanton, Esquire," floated in the breeze. One ingenious
gentleman, elaborating the topical theme, had erected a flag which, we
are told, "attracted special attention from its significance and
quaintness," representing a donkey cart with two passengers on one side
and a steam engine and carriages on the other, to personify "Ellesmere of
yesterday," and "Ellesmere of to-day," with the philosophic addendum,
"Evil communications corrupt good manners," "Aye, says the preacher,
every valley shall be raised and every hill shall be brought low." "Aye,
says the teacher, let us bless the bridge that carries us safely over,"
"Aye, aye, quoth honest nature." The application to evil communications
might, in such a connection, be a little ambiguous, but presumably nobody
imagined it to refer to the Oswestry, Ellesmere and Whitchurch Railway!

The allusion to bridges was rather more germane; for, in building the
line towards Whitchurch, which was the first section taken in hand, the
engineers were faced with a bridging problem of a peculiar nature, and
only less in magnitude than that which had confronted the constructors of
the famous Liverpool and Manchester Railway thirty years earlier. Partly
in order to avoid interfering with Sir John Hanmer's property, and partly
because they deemed it the better way, the engineers decided to carry the
line over Whixall Moss, a wide area of bog land lying between Bettisfield
and Fenns Bank. This, it was supposed, might even be drained by making
the railway across its quivering surface, but hopes of this sort were not
to be realised, for it remains to-day a wild, but picturesque stretch of
heather and silver birches, where the peat-digger plies his trade with,
perhaps, as much profit as the farmer would in tilling it. But as to its
power to bear the we