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<pre>

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Railway Adventures and Anecdotes, by Various,
Edited by Richard Pike


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org





Title: Railway Adventures and Anecdotes
       extending over more than fifty years


Author: Various

Editor: Richard Pike

Release Date: February 25, 2010  [eBook #31395]
[Last updated: October 3, 2020]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAILWAY ADVENTURES AND ANECDOTES***
</pre>
<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.</p>
<h1>RAILWAY ADVENTURES<br />
AND ANECDOTES:<br />
<span class="smcap">extending over more than fifty
years</span>.</h1>
<p style="text-align: center">EDITED BY RICHARD PIKE.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">THIRD EDITION.</p>
<div class="gapshortdoubleline">&nbsp;</div>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;The only <i>bona fide</i> Railway Anecdote
Book published<br />
on either side of the Atlantic.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Liverpool
Mercury</i>.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="gapshortdoubleline">&nbsp;</div>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">London</span>:
<span class="smcap">Hamilton</span>, <span
class="smcap">Adams</span>, <span class="smcap">and Co.</span><br
/>
<span class="smcap">Nottingham</span>: <span class="smcap">J.
Derry</span>.</p>
<div class="gapshortline">&nbsp;</div>
<p style="text-align: center">1888.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 2--><a
name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span><span
class="smcap">nottingham</span>:<br />
<span class="smcap">j. derby</span>, <span
class="smcap">printer</span>, <span class="smcap">wheeler gate
and hounds gate</span>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
3</span>PREFACE.</h2>
<p>Although railways are comparatively of recent date we are so
accustomed to them that it is difficult to realize the condition
of the country before their introduction.&nbsp; How different are
the present day ideas as to speed in travelling to those
entertained in the good old times.&nbsp; The celebrated
historian, Niebuhr, who was in England in 1798, thus describes
the rapid travelling of that period:&mdash;&ldquo;Four horses
drawing a coach with six persons inside, four on the roof, a sort
of conductor besides the coachman, and overladen with luggage,
have to get over seven English miles in the hour; and as the
coach goes on without ever stopping except at the principal
stages, it is not surprising that you can traverse the whole
extent of the country in so few days.&nbsp; But for any length of
time this rapid motion is quite too unnatural.&nbsp; You can only
get a very piece-meal view of the country from the windows, and
with the tremendous speed at which you go can keep no object long
in sight; you are unable also to stop at any place.&rdquo;&nbsp;
Near the same time the late Lord Campbell, travelling for the
first time by coach from Scotland to London, was seriously
advised to stay a day at York, as the rapidity of motion (eight
miles per hour) had caused several through-going passengers to
die of apoplexy.</p>
<p>It is stated in the year 1825, there was in the whole world,
only one railway carriage, built to convey passengers.&nbsp; It
was on the first railway between Stockton and Darlington, and
bore on its panels the motto&mdash;&ldquo;Periculum privatum,
<!-- page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
4</span>publica utilitas.&rdquo;&nbsp; At the opening of this
line the people&rsquo;s ideas of railway speed were scarcely
ahead of the canal boat.&nbsp; For we are told, &ldquo;Strange to
say, a man on horseback carrying a flag headed the
procession.&nbsp; It was not thought so dangerous a place after
all.&nbsp; The locomotive was only supposed to go at the rate of
from four to six miles an hour; an ordinary horse could easily
keep ahead of that.&nbsp; A great concourse of people stood along
the line.&nbsp; Many of them tried to accompany the procession by
running, and some gentlemen on horseback galloped across the
fields to keep up with the engine.&nbsp; At a favourable part of
the road Stephenson determined to try the speed of the engine,
and he called upon the horseman with the flag to get out of his
way!&nbsp; The speed was at once raised to twelve miles an hour,
and soon after to fifteen, causing much excitement among the
passengers.&rdquo;</p>
<p>George Stephenson was greatly impressed with the vast
possibilities belonging to the future of railway
travelling.&nbsp; When battling for the locomotive he seemed to
see with true prescience what it was destined to
accomplish.&nbsp; &ldquo;I will do something in course of
time,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;which will astonish all
England.&rdquo;&nbsp; Years afterwards when asked to what he
alluded, he replied, &ldquo;I meant to make the mail run between
London and Edinburgh by the locomotive before I died, and I have
done it.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus was a similar prediction fulfilled,
which at the time he uttered it was doubtless considered a very
wild prophecy, &ldquo;Men shall take supper in London and
breakfast in Edinburgh.&rdquo;</p>
<p>From a small beginning railways have spread over the four
quarters of the globe.&nbsp; Thousands of millions of pounds have
been spent upon their construction.&nbsp; Railway <!-- page
5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
5</span>contractors such as Peto and Brassey at one time employed
armies of workmen, more numerous than the contending hosts
engaged in many a battle celebrated in history.&nbsp; Considering
the mighty revolutions that have been wrought in social affairs
and in the commerce of the world by railways, John Bright was not
far wrong when he said in the House of Commons &ldquo;Who are the
greatest men of the present age?&nbsp; Not your warriors, not
your statesmen.&nbsp; They are your engineers.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The Railway era, although of modern date, has been rich in
adventures and incidents.&nbsp; Numerous works have been written
upon Railways, also memoirs of Railway Engineers, relating their
struggles and triumphs, which have charmed multitudes of
readers.&nbsp; Yet no volume has been published consisting
exclusively of Railway Adventures and Anecdotes.&nbsp; Books
having the heading of Railway Anecdotes, or similar titles,
containing few of such anecdotes but many of a miscellaneous
character, have from time to time appeared.&nbsp; Anecdotes, racy
of the Railway calling and circumstances connected with it are
very numerous: they are to be found scattered in Parliamentary
Blue Books, Journals, Biographies, and many out-of-the-way
channels.&nbsp; Many of them are highly instructive, diverting,
and mirth-provoking, having reference to persons in all
conditions.&nbsp; The &ldquo;Railway Adventures and
Anecdotes,&rdquo; illustrating many a quaint and picturesque
scene of railway life, have been drawn from a great variety of
sources.&nbsp; I have for a long time been collecting them, and
am willing to believe they may prove entertaining and profitable
to the railway traveller and the general reader, relieving the
tedium of hours when the mind is not disposed to grapple with
profounder subjects.</p>
<p><!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
6</span>The romance of railways is in the past and not in the
future.&nbsp; How desirable then it is that a well written
history of British Railways should speedily be produced, before
their traditions, interesting associations, and early workers
shall be forgotten.&nbsp; A work of such magnitude would need to
be entrusted to a band of expert writers.&nbsp; With an able man
like Mr. Williams, the author of <i>Our Iron Roads</i>, and the
<i>History of the Midland Railway</i>, presiding over the
enterprise, a history might be produced which would be
interesting to the present and to future generations.&nbsp; The
history although somewhat voluminous would be a necessity to
every public and private library.&nbsp; Many of our railway
companies might do worse than contribute &pound;500 or
&pound;1000 each to encourage such an important literary
undertaking.&nbsp; It would give an impetus to the study of
railway matters and it is not at all unlikely in the course of a
short time the companies would be recouped for their outlay.</p>
<p>Before concluding, it is only right I should express my
grateful acknowledgments to the numerous body of subscribers to
this work.&nbsp; Among them are noblemen of the highest rank and
distinction, cabinet ministers, members of Parliament,
magistrates, ministers of all sections of the Christian church,
merchants, farmers, tradesmen, and artisans.&nbsp; Through their
helpful kindness my responsibility has been considerably
lightened, and I trust they will have no reason to regret that
their confidence has been misplaced.</p>
<h2><!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
7</span>CONTENTS.</h2>
<table>
<tr>
<td><p>A.B.C. and D.E.F.</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page171">171</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Accident, Abergele, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page220">220</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Beneficial Effect of a Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page186">186</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Extraordinary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page128">128</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, ,,</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page265">265</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Remarkable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page172">172</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Versailles, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page96">96</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Action, A Novel</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page255">255</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Advantages of Railway Tunnels</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page126">126</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Advertisement, Remarkable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page124">124</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Adventure, Remarkable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page146">146</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Affrighted Toll Keeper</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page19">19</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Agent, The Insurance</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page269">269</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Air-ways, instead of Railways</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page83">83</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Alarmist Views</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page28">28</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Almost Dar Now</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page122">122</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>American Patience and Imperturbability</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page183">183</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>A&rsquo;penny a Mile</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page170">170</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Army with Banners, An</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page207">207</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Atmospheric Railroad Anticipated</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page14">14</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Baby Law</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page216">216</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Balloonists, Extraordinary Escape of</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page275">275</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bavarian Guards and Bavarian Beer</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page198">198</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bill, Expensive Parliamentary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page102">102</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, First Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page16">16</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bishop, A Disingenuous</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page267">267</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, An Industrious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page248">248</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Blunder, An Extraordinary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page254">254</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bookshops, Growth of Station</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page130">130</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Booking-Clerk and Buckland, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page248">248</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bookstalls, Messrs. Smith&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page131">131</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Brahmin, The Polite</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page260">260</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bride&rsquo;s Lost Luggage, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page142">142</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Brassey&rsquo;s, Mr., Strict Adherence to his Word</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page264">264</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Brougham&rsquo;s, Lord, Speech</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page60">60</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Box, Shut up in a large</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page273">273</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Buckland&rsquo;s, Mr. Frank, First Railway Journey</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page175">175</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Buckland, Mr. Frank, and his Boots</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page261">261</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bridge, Awful Death on a Railroad</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page273">273</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Bully Rightly Served, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page190">190</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Burning the Road Clear</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page179">179</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Business, Railway Facilities for</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page118">118</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Calculation as to Railway Speed</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page28">28</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Capture, Clever</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page105">105</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Catastrophe</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page165">165</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Carlist Chief as a Sub-contractor, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page213">213</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Carriage, The Duke&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page60">60</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Casuality, Curious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page193">193</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Chase after a Runaway Engine, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page136">136</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Child&rsquo;s Idea on Railways, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page179">179</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Child, Remarkable Rescue of a</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page249">249</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Claim for goodwill for a Cow killed on the Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page268">268</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
8</span>Clergy, Appealing to the</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page83">83</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Clever, Quite too</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page181">181</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Coach <i>versus</i> Railway Accidents</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page198">198</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Compensation for Land</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page106">106</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A Widow&rsquo;s Claim for</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page242">242</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Competition, Early Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page27">27</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, For Passengers</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page167">167</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Goods</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page135">135</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Conductor, A Wide-awake</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page184">184</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Coincidences, Remarkable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page291">291</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Cook&rsquo;s Railway Excursions, Origin of</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page87">87</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Cool Impudence and Dishonesty</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page248">248</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Coolness, A Little Boy&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page258">258</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Constable, The Electric</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page92">92</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Contracts, Expensive</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page263">263</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Contractor, An Accommodating</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page113">113</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Contractors and the Blotting Pad, Rival</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page99">99</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Contrast, National</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page171">171</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Conversion of the Gauge</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page243">243</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Counsel, The bothered Queen&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page247">247</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Courting on a Railway thirty miles an hour</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page159">159</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Crimea, The First Railway in the</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page156">156</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Croydon.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page271">271</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Curious Classification, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page294">294</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Custom of the Country, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page234">234</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Cuvier&rsquo;s Description of the Locomotive</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page21">21</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Damages easily adjusted</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page127">127</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Day.&nbsp; The Great Railway Mania</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page114">114</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Death.&nbsp; Faithful unto</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page153">153</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Decision.&nbsp; A Quick</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page95">95</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Decoy Trunk, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page224">224</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Deodand.&nbsp; The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page88">88</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Difficulties encountered in making Surveys</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page31">31</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Difficulty solved, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page181">181</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Discovery, A Great</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page144">144</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Discussion, An Unfortunate</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page89">89</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Disguise, Duty in</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page283">283</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Dissatisfied Passengers</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page236">236</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Doctor and the Officers, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page246">246</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Dog Ticket</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page91">91</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Down Brakes, or Force of Habit</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page192">192</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Drink.&nbsp; That accursed</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page274">274</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Drinking from the Wrong Bottle</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page262">262</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Driving a last spike</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page224">224</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Dropping the letter &ldquo;L&rdquo;</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page267">267</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Dukes and the traveller, The two</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page114">114</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Dying Engine Driver, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page191">191</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Early American Railway Enterprise</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page66">66</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Early Morning Ride</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page187">187</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Early Steam Carriages</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page15">15</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
9</span>Elevated Sight-seers Wishing to Descend</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page59">59</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Engine Driver, A Brave</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page247">247</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A Mad</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page278">278</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Engine Driver&rsquo;s Presence of Mind</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page232">232</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Driving</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page230">230</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Fascination</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page166">166</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Engineer and Scientific Witness</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page133">133</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Very Nice to be a Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page113">113</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Entertaining Companion</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page195">195</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Epigram, Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page124">124</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Epitaph, An Engine Driver&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page86">86</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, on the Victim of a Railway Accident</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page85">85</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Escape, Providential</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page128">128</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Escapes from being Lynched, Narrow</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page153">153</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Everett&rsquo;s Reply to Wordsworth&rsquo;s Protest</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page123">123</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Evidence of General Salesman</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page78">78</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Picture</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page111">111</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Evil, A Dreaded</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page145">145</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Excursionists put to the proof</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page294">294</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Extracts from Macready&rsquo;s Diaries</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page138">138</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Fares, Cheap</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page188">188</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Fault, At</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page241">241</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Female Fragility</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page250">250</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Flutter caused by the murder of Mr. Briggs</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page253">253</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Fog Signals</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page121">121</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Forged Tickets</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page217">217</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Fourth of July Facts</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page244">244</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Fraud on the Great Northern Company, Immense</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page161">161</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Frauds, Attempted</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page140">140</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Freak, Singular</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page170">170</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Freaks of Concealed Bogs</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page138">138</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Frightened at a Red Light</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page223">223</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Girl, A Brave</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page273">273</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Goat and the Railway, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page155">155</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Good Things of Railway Accidents</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page186">186</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Gravedigger&rsquo;s Suggestion, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page257">257</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Gray, Thomas.&nbsp; A Railway Projector</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page22">22</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Greenlander&rsquo;s First Railway Ride, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page255">255</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Growing Lad, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page217">217</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Hartington, The Marquis of, on George Stephenson</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page283">283</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Hair-Dresser, The anxious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page79">79</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Heroism of a Driver</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page270">270</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Highlander and a Railway Engine, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page138">138</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Hoax, Accident</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page167">167</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Horses <i>versus</i> Railways</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page262">262</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>How to bear losses</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page214">214</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Impressions, A Mexican Chief&rsquo;s Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page278">278</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Incident, An amusing</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page258">258</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, An Electric Tramway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page282">282</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Information, Obtaining</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page154">154</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 10</span>Insulted Woman, An</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page235">235</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Insured</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page202">202</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Judge&rsquo;s feeling against Railways, A County Court</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page150">150</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Kangaroo Attacking a Train, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page209">209</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Kemble&rsquo;s Letter, Fanny</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page35">35</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Kid-Gloved Samson, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page184">184</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Kiss in the Dark, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page256">256</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Lady and her Lap-dog, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page242">242</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, An Exacting</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page183">183</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Legislation, Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page100">100</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Liabilities of Railway Engineers for Errors</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page127">127</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Liability of Companies for Delay of Trains</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page191">191</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Life upon a Railway, by a Conductor</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page148">148</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Loan Engineering, or Staking out a Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page172">172</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Locomotive, A Smuggling</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page234">234</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Dangerous</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page292">292</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Luggage, Lost</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page112">112</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, in Railway Carriages</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page281">281</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, What is Passengers&rsquo;</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page243">243</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Madman in a Railway Carriage, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page201">201</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Marriage, A Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page139">139</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, and Railway Dividends</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page228">228</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Match, A Runaway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page93">93</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Merchant and his Clerk, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page160">160</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Mistake, A slight</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page263">263</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Monetary Difficulties in Spain</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page212">212</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Money.&nbsp; Lost and Found</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page87">87</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Monkey Signalman, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page294">294</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Navvy&rsquo;s Reason for not going to Church, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page80">80</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Nervousness</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page259">259</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>New Trick.&nbsp; A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page203">203</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Newspaper Wonder, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page211">211</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Newton, Sir Isaac&rsquo;s Prediction of Railway Speed</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page14">14</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Notice, Copy of a</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page237">237</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A curious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page154">154</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A remarkable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page252">252</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, to Defaulting Shareholders, A Novel</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page95">95</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Not to be caught</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page246">246</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Novel Attack, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page197">197</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Obstruction</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page215">215</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Objections, Sanitary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page77">77</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Opposition, A Landowner&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page110">110</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, English and American</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page71">71</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Parliamentary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page29">29</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, to Making Surveys</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page75">75</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Orders, My</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page280">280</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Parody upon the Railway Mania</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page118">118</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Passengers and other Cattle</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page158">158</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Third-class</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page143">143</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Peto, Sir Morton, and the Balaclava Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page156">156</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 11</span>Peto&rsquo;s, Sir Morton, Railway
Mission</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page104">104</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Phillippe and the English Navvies, Louis</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page125">125</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Photographing an Express Train</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page259">259</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Polite Irishman, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page194">194</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Portmanteau, His</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page130">130</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Post Office and Railways.&nbsp; The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page119">119</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Power of Locomotive Engines, Gigantic</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page94">94</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Practice, Sharp</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page80">80</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Prejudice against carrying Coals by Railways</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page84">84</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Removed</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page81">81</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Presentiment, Mrs. Blackburne&rsquo;s</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page56">56</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Profitable Damages</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page295">295</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Prognostications of Failure</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page73">73</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Pullman&rsquo;s Carriages</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page295">295</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Race, A Curious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page254">254</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Railway, An Early</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page20">20</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, An Early Ride on the Liverpool and Manchester</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page61">61</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Announcement</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page17">17</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Enterprise</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page296">296</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Travelling, Early</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page63">63</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Destroyers in the Franco-German War</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page223">223</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, from Merstham to Wandsworth</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page16">16</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Liverpool and Manchester</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page32">32</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Manners</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page272">272</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Merthyr Tydvil</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page17">17</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A Profitable</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page260">260</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Opening of the Darlington and Stockton</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page26">26</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Romance</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page93">93</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Sleeper, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page246">246</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Signals</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page120">120</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Switch Tender and his Child</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page199">199</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Train turned into a Man-trap</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page185">185</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Up Vesuvius</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page274">274</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Railways, Elevated</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page214">214</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, A Judgment</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page268">268</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Origin of</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page13">13</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Railroad Incident</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page214">214</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Tracklayer</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page216">216</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Rails, Expansion of</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page158">158</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Rector and his Pig.&nbsp; The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page103">103</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Redstart, The Black</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page199">199</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Rejoinder, A smart</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page158">158</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Reproof for Swearing</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page189">189</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Request, A Polite</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page136">136</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Ride from Boston to Providence in 1835, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page81">81</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Robinson&rsquo;s, Crabb, First Railway Journey</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page65">65</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Ruling Occupation strong on Sunday</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page186">186</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Safety on the Floor</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page147">147</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Seat, The Safest</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page268">268</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Scotch Lady and her Box</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page272">272</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Scene at a Railway Junction, Extraordinary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page134">134</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Before a Sub-Committee on Standing Orders</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page176">176</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 12</span>Security for Travelling</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page229">229</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Sell, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page241">241</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Seizure of a Railway Train for Debt</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page208">208</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>She takes Fits</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page210">210</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Shrewd Observers</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page20">20</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Signalman, An Amateur</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page97">97</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Singular Circumstance</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page125">125</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Sleeper, A Heavy</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page276">276</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Sounds, Remarkable Memory for</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page266">266</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Snag&rsquo;s Corners</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page210">210</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Snake&rsquo;s Heads</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page81">81</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Snowed up on the Pacific Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page237">237</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Speed of Railway Engines</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page30">30</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Steam defined</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page137">137</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Pulling a Tooth by</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page276">276</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Steel Rails</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page193">193</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Stephenson Centenary, The</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page284">284</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, ,, George Robert Stephenson&rsquo;s Address</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page286">286</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, ,, Rev. T. C. Sarjent&rsquo;s Address at the</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page288">288</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, ,, Sir William Armstrong&rsquo;s Address at the</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page284">284</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Stephenson&rsquo;s Wedding Present, George</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page194">194</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Stopping a Runaway Couple</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page200">200</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Stumped</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page293">293</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Swindling, Ingenious</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page292">292</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Taken Aback</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page152">152</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Taking Him Down a Peg</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page252">252</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Taste, Loss of</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page291">291</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Tay Bridge Accident</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page245">245</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Telegraph, Extraordinary use of the Electric</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page111">111</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Ticket, A Lost</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page164">164</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Your</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page271">271</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Traffic-Taking</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page86">86</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Train Stopped by Caterpillars, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page204">204</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Travelling, Effects of Constant Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page281">281</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, in Russia</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page204">204</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>,, Improvement in Third-Class</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page143">143</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Trent Station</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page192">192</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Trip, An Unpleasant Trial</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page72">72</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Tunnel, In a Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page137">137</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Very Cool</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page199">199</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Waif, An Extraordinary</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page245">245</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Ward&rsquo;s, Artemus, Suggestion</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page197">197</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Watkin, Sir Edward, on Touting for Business</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page269">269</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Way, A Quick</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page138">138</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Way-Leaves</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page13">13</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Wedding at a Railway Station</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page166">166</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>What are you going to do?</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page189">189</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Whistle, Steam</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page98">98</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Wolves on a Railway</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page197">197</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Wordsworth&rsquo;s Protest</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page122">122</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p>Yankee Compensation Case, A</p>
</td>
<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
href="#page218">218</a></span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h2><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
13</span>ORIGIN OF RAILWAYS</h2>
<p>The immediate parent of the railway was the wooden tram-road,
which existed at an early period in colliery districts.&nbsp; Mr.
Beaumont, of Newcastle, is said to have been the first to lay
down wooden rails as long ago as 1630.&nbsp; More than one
hundred and forty years elapsed before the invention was greatly
improved.&nbsp; Mr. John Carr, in 1776 (although not the first to
use iron rails), was the first to lay down a cast-iron railway,
nailed to wooden sleepers, for the Duke of Newcastle&rsquo;s
colliery near Sheffield.&nbsp; This innovation was regarded with
great disfavour by the workpeople as an interference with the
vested rights of labour.&nbsp; Mr. Carr&rsquo;s life, as a
consequence, was in much jeopardy and for four days he had to
conceal himself in a wood to avoid the violence of an indignant
and vindictive populace.</p>
<h2>WAY-LEAVES.</h2>
<p>Roger North, referring to a visit paid to Newcastle by his
brother, the Lord Keeper Guildford, in 1676,
writes:&mdash;&ldquo;Another remarkable thing is their
<i>way-leaves</i>; for when men have pieces of ground between the
colliery and the river, they sell the leave to lead coal over the
ground, and so dear that the owner of a rood of ground will
expect &pound;20 per annum for this leave.&nbsp; The manner of
the carriage is by laying rails of timber from the colliery down
to the river exactly straight and parallel, and bulky carts are
made with four rowlets fitting these rails, whereby the carriage
is so easy that one horse will draw four or five chaldron of
coals, and is an immense benefit to the coal
merchants.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
14</span>SIR ISAAC NEWTON&rsquo;S PREDICTION OF RAILWAY
SPEED.</h2>
<p>In a tract by the Rev. Mr. Craig, Vicar of Leamington,
entitled &ldquo;Astral Wonders,&rdquo; is to be found the
following remarkable passage:&mdash;&ldquo;Let me narrate to you
an anecdote concerning Sir Isaac Newton and Voltaire.&nbsp; Sir
Isaac wrote a book on the Prophet Daniel, and another on the
Revelations; and he said, in order to fulfil certain prophecies
before a certain date terminated, namely 1260 years, there would
be a certain mode of travelling of which the men in his time had
no conception; nay, that the knowledge of mankind would be so
increased that they would be able to travel at the rate of fifty
miles an hour.&nbsp; Voltaire, who did not believe in the Holy
Scriptures, got hold of this, and said, &lsquo;Now look at that
mighty mind of Newton, who discovered gravity, and told us such
marvels for us all to admire, when he became an old man and got
into his dotage, he began to study that book called the Bible;
and it appears that in order to credit its fabulous nonsense, we
must believe that mankind&rsquo;s knowledge will be so much
increased that we shall be able to travel fifty miles an
hour.&nbsp; The poor &lsquo;dotard!&rsquo; exclaimed the
philosophic infidel, Voltaire, in the complaisancy of his
pity.&nbsp; But who is the dotard now?&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE ATMOSPHERIC RAILROAD ANTICIPATED.</h2>
<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><i>First Voice</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;But why drives on that ship so fast,<br />
Without or wave or wind?&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><i>Second Voice</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The air is cut away before,<br />
And closes from behind.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Ancient
Mariner</i>.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is the exact principle of the atmospheric railroad, and
it is, perhaps, worthy of note as a curious fact that such a
means of locomotion should have occurred to Coleridge so long
ago.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">W. Y. Bernhard Smith, in <i>Notes
and Queries</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
15</span>EARLY STEAM CARRIAGES.</h2>
<p>Stuart, in his &ldquo;Historical and Descriptive Anecdotes of
Steam Engines and of their Inventors and Improvers,&rdquo; gives
a description of what was supposed to be the first model of a
steam carriage.&nbsp; The constructor was a Frenchman named
Cugnot, who exhibited it before the Marshal de Saxe in
1763.&nbsp; He afterwards built an engine on the same model at
the cost of the French monarch.&nbsp; But when set in motion it
projected itself onward with such force that it knocked down a
wall which stood in its way, and&mdash;its power being considered
too great for ordinary use&mdash;it was put aside as being a
dangerous machine, and was stowed away in the Arsenal Museum at
Paris.&nbsp; It is now to be seen in the Conservatoire des Arts
et M&eacute;tiers.</p>
<p>Mr. Smiles also remarks that &ldquo;An American inventor,
named Oliver Evans, was also occupied with the same idea, for, in
1772, he invented a steam carriage to travel on common roads;
and, in 1787, he obtained from the State of Maryland the
exclusive right to make and use steam carriages.&nbsp; The
invention, however, never came into practical use.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It also appears that, in 1784, William Symington, the
inventor of the steamboat, conceived the idea of employing steam
power in the propulsion of carriages; and, in 1786, he had a
working model of a steam carriage constructed which he submitted
to the professors and other scientific gentlemen of
Edinburgh.&nbsp; But the state of the Scotch roads was at that
time so horrible that he considered it impracticable to proceed
further with his scheme, and he shortly gave it up in favour of
his project of steam navigation.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The first English model of a steam carriage was made in
1784 by William Murdoch, the friend and assistant of Watt.&nbsp;
It was on the high-pressure principle and ran on three
wheels.&nbsp; The boiler was heated by a spirit lamp, and the
whole machine was of very diminutive dimensions, standing little
more than a foot high.&nbsp; Yet, on one occasion, the little
engine went so fast that it outran the speed of the
inventor.&nbsp; Mr. Buckle says that one night after returning
from his duties in the mine at Redruth, in Cornwall, Murdoch
determined to try the working of his model locomotive.&nbsp; <!--
page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
16</span>For this purpose he had recourse to the walk leading to
the church, about a mile from the town.&nbsp; The walk was rather
narrow and was bounded on either side by high hedges.&nbsp; It
was a dark night, and Murdoch set out alone to try his
experiment.&nbsp; Having lit his lamp, the water shortly began to
boil, and off started the engine with the inventor after
it.&nbsp; He soon heard distant shouts of despair.&nbsp; It was
too dark to perceive objects, but he shortly found, on following
up the machine, that the cries for assistance proceeded from the
worthy pastor of the parish, who, going towards the town on
business, was met on this lonely road by the hissing and fiery
little monster, which he subsequently declared he had taken to be
the Evil One in <i>propri&acirc; person&acirc;</i>.&nbsp; No
further steps, however, were taken by Murdoch to embody his idea
of a locomotive carriage in a more practical form.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>FIRST RAILWAY BILL.</h2>
<p>The first Railway Bill passed by Parliament was for a line
from Wandsworth to Croydon, in 1801, but a quarter of a century
elapsed before the first line was actually constructed for
carrying passengers between Stockton and Darlington.&nbsp; People
still living can remember the mail coaches that plied once a
month between Edinburgh and London, making the journey in twelve
or fourteen days.&nbsp; The <i>Annual Register</i> of 1820 boasts
that &ldquo;English mail coaches run 7 miles an hour; French only
4&frac12; miles; the former travelling, in the year, forty times
the length of miles that the French accomplish.&rdquo;&nbsp;
These coaches were a great improvement on the previous method of
sending the mails.&nbsp; In 1783 a petition to Parliament stated
that &ldquo;the mails are generally entrusted to some idle boy,
without character, mounted on a worn-out hack.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;<i>Progress of the
World</i>&rdquo; by M. G. Mulhall.</p>
<h2>RAILWAY FROM MERSTHAM TO WANDSWORTH.</h2>
<p>Charles Knight thus describes this old line:&mdash;&ldquo;The
earliest railway for public traffic in England was one passing
from Merstham to Wandsworth, through Croydon; a small, single
line, on which a miserable team of donkeys, some thirty years
ago, might be seen crawling at the rate <!-- page 17--><a
name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>of four miles
an hour, with several trucks of stone and lime behind them.&nbsp;
It was commenced in 1801, opened in 1803; and the men of science
of that day&mdash;we cannot say that the respectable name of
Stephenson was not among them, (Stephenson was then a brakesman
at Killingworth)&mdash;tested its capabilities and found that one
horse could draw some thirty-five tons at six miles an hour, and
then, with prophetic wisdom, declared that railways could never
be worked profitably.&nbsp; The old Croydon railway is no longer
used.&nbsp; The genius loci must look with wonder on the gigantic
offspring of the little railway, which has swallowed up its own
sire.&nbsp; Lean mules no longer crawl leisurely along the little
rails with trucks of stone through Croydon, once perchance during
the day, but the whistle and the rush of the locomotive are now
heard all day long.&nbsp; Not a few loads of lime, but all London
and its contents, by comparison&mdash;men, women, children,
horses, dogs, oxen, sheep, pigs, carriages, merchandise,
food,&mdash;would seem to be now-a-days passing through Croydon;
for day after day, more than 100 journeys are made by the great
railroads which pass the place.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RAILWAY ANNOUNCEMENT.</h2>
<p>The following announcement was published in a London
periodical, dated August 1, 1802:&mdash;&ldquo;The Surrey Iron
Railway is now completed over the high road through Wandsworth
town.&nbsp; On Wednesday, June 8, several carriages of all
descriptions passed over the iron rails without meeting with the
least obstacle.&nbsp; Among these, the Portsmouth wagon, drawn by
eight horses and weighing from eight to ten tons, passed over the
rails, and did not appear to make the slightest impression upon
them.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>MERTHYR TYDVIL RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>An Act of Parliament was granted for a railway to Merthyr
Tydvil in 1803, and the following year the first locomotive which
ran on a railway is described in a racy manner by the <i>Western
Mail</i>, as follows:&mdash;&ldquo;Quaint, rattling, puffing,
asthmatic, and wheezy, the pioneer of ten thousand gilding
creations of beauty and strength made its way between the
white-washed houses of the old tramway at <!-- page 18--><a
name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
18</span>Merthyr.&nbsp; It has a dwarf body placed on a high
framework, constructed by the hedge carpenter of the place in the
roughest possible fashion.&nbsp; The wheels were equally rough
and large, and surmounting all was a huge stack, ugly enough when
it was new, but in after times made uglier by whitewash and
rust.&nbsp; Every movement was made with a hideous uproar,
snorting and clanking, and this, aided by the noise of the
escaping steam, formed a tableau from which, met in the byeway,
every old woman would run with affright.&nbsp; The Merthyr
locomotive was made jointly by Trevithick, a Cornishman, and Rees
Jones, of Penydarran.&nbsp; The day fixed for the trial was the
12th of February, 1804, and the track a tramway, lately formed
from Penydarran, at the back of Plymouth Works, by the side of
the Troedyrhiw, and so down to the navigation.&nbsp; Great was
the concourse assembled; villagers of all ages and sizes thronged
the spot; and the rumour of the day&rsquo;s doings even
penetrated up the defiles of Taff Vawr and Taff Vach, bringing
down old apple-faced farmers and their wives, who were told of a
power and a speed that would alter everything, and do away with
horses altogether.&nbsp; Prim, cosy, apple-faced people, innocent
and primitive, little thought ye then of the changes which the
clanking monster was to yield; how Grey Dobbin would see flying
by a mass of wood and iron, thousands of tons of weight, bearing
not only the commerce of the country, but hundreds of people as
well; how rivers and mountains would afford no obstacle, as the
mighty azure waves leap the one and dash through the other.&nbsp;
On the first engine and trains that started on the memorable day
in February, twenty persons clustered like bees, anxious, we
learn in the &lsquo;History of Merthyr,&rsquo; to win immortality
by being thus distinguished above all their fellows; the trains
were six in number, laden with iron, and amidst a concourse of
villagers, including the constable, the &lsquo;druggister,&rsquo;
and the class generally dubbed &lsquo;shopwors&rsquo; by the
natives, were Richard Crawshay and Mr. Samuel Homfray.&nbsp; The
driver was one William Richards, and on the engine were perched
Trevithick and Rees Jones, their faces black, but their eyes
bright with the anticipation of victory.&nbsp; Soon the signal
was given, and amidst a mighty roar from the people, the wheels
turned <!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 19</span>and the mass moved forward, going
steadily at the rate of five miles an hour until a bridge was
reached a little below the town that did not admit of the stack
going under, and as this was built of bricks, there was a great
crash and instant stoppage.&nbsp; Trevithick and Jones were of
the old-fashioned school of men who did not believe in
impossibilities.&nbsp; The fickle crowd, too, who had hurrahed
like mad, hung back and said &lsquo;It won&rsquo;t do&rsquo;; but
these heroes, the advance-guard of a race who had done more to
make England famous than battles by land or sea, sprang to the
ground and worked like Britons, never ceasing until they had
repaired the mishap, and then they rattled on, and finally
reached their journey&rsquo;s end.&nbsp; The return journey was a
failure, on account of gradients and curves, but the possibility
of success was demonstrated; and from this run on the Merthyr
tramway the railway age&mdash;marked with throes and suspense,
delays, accidents, and misadventures&mdash;finally
began.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN AFFRIGHTED TOLL-KEEPER.</h2>
<p>There is a story told by Coleridge about the steam engine
which Trevithick exhibited at work on a temporary railroad in
London.&nbsp; Trevithick and his partner Captain Vivian, prior to
this exhibition were riding on the carriage on the turnpike road
near to Plymouth.&nbsp; It had committed sundry damage in its
course, knocking down the rails of a gentleman&rsquo;s garden,
when Vivian saw the toll-bar in front of them closed he called to
Trevithick to slacken speed which he did just in time to save the
gate.&nbsp; The affrighted toll-keeper instantly opened it.&nbsp;
&ldquo;What have us got to pay?&rdquo; asked Captain Vivian,
careful as to honesty if reckless as to grammar.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Na-na-na-na!&rdquo; stammered the poor man, trembling
in every limb, with his teeth chattering as if he had got the
ague.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What have us got to pay, I ask?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Na-noth-nothing to pay!&nbsp; My de-dear Mr. Devil, do
drive as fast as you can!&nbsp; Nothing to pay!&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
20</span>AN EARLY RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>More than twenty years before the opening of the Liverpool and
Manchester Railway, the celebrated engineer Trevithick
constructed, not only a locomotive engine, but also a railway,
that the London public might see with their own eyes what the new
high pressure steam engine could effect, and how greatly superior
a railway was to a common road for locomotion.&nbsp; The sister
of Davies Gilbert named this engine &ldquo;Catch me who
can.&rdquo;&nbsp; The following interesting account in a letter
to a correspondent was given by John Isaac Hawkins, an engineer
well known in his day.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&mdash;Observing that it is stated in your last
number (No. 1232, dated the 20th instant, page 269), under the
head of &lsquo;Twenty-one Years&rsquo; Retrospect of the Railway
System,&rsquo; that the greatest speed of Trevithick&rsquo;s
engine was five miles an hour, I think it due to the memory of
that extraordinary man to declare that about the year 1808 he
laid down a circular railway in a field adjoining the New Road,
near or at the spot now forming the southern half of Euston
Square; that he placed a locomotive engine, weighing about ten
tons, on that railway&mdash;on which I rode, with my watch in
hand&mdash;at the rate of twelve miles an hour; that Mr.
Trevithick then gave his opinion that it would go twenty miles an
hour, or more, on a straight railway; that the engine was
exhibited at one shilling admittance, including a ride for the
few who were not too timid; that it ran for some weeks, when a
rail broke and occasioned the engine to fly off in a tangent and
overturn, the ground being very soft at the time.&nbsp; Mr.
Trevithick having expended all his means in erecting the works
and enclosure, and the shillings not having come in fast enough
to pay current expenses, the engine was not again set on the
rail.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SHREWD OBSERVERS.</h2>
<p>Sir Richard Phillips was a man of foresight, for, in the year
1813, he wrote the following words in his &ldquo;Morning Walk to
Kew,&rdquo; a book of some popularity in its day:&mdash;&ldquo;I
found delight in witnessing at Wandsworth the economy of horse
labour on the iron railway.&nbsp; Yet a heavy sigh escaped me as
I thought of the inconceivable millions of <!-- page 21--><a
name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>money which
had been spent about Malta, four or five of which might have been
the means of extending double lines of iron railway from London
to Edinburgh, Glasgow, Holyhead, Milford, Falmouth, Yarmouth,
Dover, and Portsmouth.&nbsp; A reward of a single thousand would
have supplied coaches and other vehicles of various degrees of
speed, with the best tackle for readily turning out; and we might
ere this have witnessed our mail coaches running at the rate of
ten miles an hour, drawn by a single horse, or impelled fifteen
miles an hour by Blenkinsop&rsquo;s steam engine.&nbsp; Such
would have been a legitimate motive for overstepping the income
of a nation; and the completion of so great and useful a work
would have afforded rational ground for public triumph in general
jubilee.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Edgeworth, writing to James Watt on the
7th of August, 1813, remarks, &ldquo;I have always thought that
steam would become the universal lord, and that we should in time
scorn post-horses.&nbsp; An iron railroad would be a cheaper
thing than a road on the common construction.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CUVIER&rsquo;S DESCRIPTION OF THE LOCOMOTIVE.</h2>
<p>The celebrated Cuvier, in an address delivered by him before
the French Institute in the year 1816, thus referred to the
nascent locomotive:&mdash;&ldquo;A steam engine, mounted upon a
carriage whose wheels indent themselves along a road specially
prepared for it, is attached to a line of loaded vehicles.&nbsp;
A fire is lit underneath the boiler, by which the engine is
speedily set in motion, and in a short time the whole are brought
to their journey&rsquo;s end.&nbsp; The traveller who, from a
distance, first sees this strange spectacle of a train of loaded
carriages traversing the country by the simple force of steam,
can with difficulty believe his eyes.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The locomotive thus described by Cuvier was the first engine
of the kind regularly employed in the working of railway
traffic.&nbsp; It was impelled by means of a cogged wheel, which
worked into a cogged rail, after the method adopted by Mr.
Blenkinsop, upon the Middleton Coal Railway, near Leeds; and the
speed of the train which it dragged behind it was only from three
to four miles an hour.</p>
<p><!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
22</span>Ten years later, the same power and speed of the
locomotive were still matters of wonderment, for, in 1825, we
find Mr. Mackenzie, in his &ldquo;History of
Northumberland&rdquo; thus describing the performances on the
Wylam Coal Railroad:&mdash;&ldquo;A stranger,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;is struck with surprise and astonishment on seeing a
locomotive engine moving majestically along the road at the rate
of four or five miles an hour, drawing along from ten to fourteen
loaded wagons, weighing about twenty-one-and-a-half tons; and his
surprise is increased on witnessing the extraordinary facility
with which the engine is managed.&nbsp; This invention is indeed
a noble triumph of science.&rdquo;</p>
<p>In the same year, the first attempt was made to carry
passengers by railway between Stockton and Darlington.&nbsp; A
machine resembling the yellow caravan still seen at country fairs
was built and fitted up with seats all round it, and set upon the
rails, along which it was drawn by a horse.&nbsp; It was found
exceedingly convenient to travel by, and the number of passengers
between the two towns so much increased that several bodies of
old stage coaches were bought up, mounted upon railway wheels,
and added to the carrying stock of the Stockton and Darlington
Company.&nbsp; At length the horse was finally discarded in
favour of the locomotive, and not only coals and merchandise, but
passengers of all classes, were drawn by steam.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Railway News</i>.</p>
<h2>A RAILWAY PROJECTOR.</h2>
<p>In the year 1819, Thomas Gray&mdash;a deep thinker with a mind
of comprehensive grasp&mdash;was travelling in the North of
England when he saw a train of coal-wagons drawn by steam along a
colliery tramroad.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he questioned the
engineer, &ldquo;are not these tramroads laid down all over
England, so as to supersede our common roads, and steam engines
employed to convey goods and passengers along them, so as to
supersede horse power?&rdquo;&nbsp; The engineer replied,
&ldquo;Just propose you that to the nation, sir, and see what you
will get by it!&nbsp; Why, sir, you will be worried to death for
your pains.&rdquo;&nbsp; Nothing daunted by this reply, Thomas
Gray could scarcely think or talk upon any other subject.&nbsp;
In vision he saw the country covered with a <!-- page 23--><a
name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>network of
tramroads.&nbsp; Before his time the famous Duke of Bridgewater
might have some misgivings about his canals.&nbsp; It is related
on a certain occasion some one said to him, &ldquo;You must be
making handsomely out of your canals.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,
yes,&rdquo; grumbled he in reply, &ldquo;they will last my time,
but I don&rsquo;t like the look of these tramroads; there&rsquo;s
mischief in them.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Gray, with prophetic eye, saw
the great changes which the iron railway would make in the means
of transit throughout the civilized world.&nbsp; In 1820 he
brought out his now famous work, entitled &ldquo;Observations on
a General Iron Railway, or Land Steam Conveyance, to supersede
the necessity of horses in all public vehicles; showing its vast
superiority in every respect over all the present pitiful methods
of conveyance by Turnpike-roads, Canals, and Coasting Traders:
containing every species of information relative to Railroads and
Locomotive Engines.&rdquo;&nbsp; The book is illustrated by a
plate exhibiting different kinds of carriages drawn on the
railway by locomotives.&nbsp; He evidently anticipated that the
locomotive of the future would be capable of going at a
considerable speed, for on the plate is engraved these
lines:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;No speed with this can fleetest horse
compare;<br />
No weight like this canal or vessel bear.<br />
As this will commerce every way promote,<br />
To this let sons of commerce grant their vote.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Mr. Gray in his book exhibits a marvellous insight into the
wants and requirements of the country.&nbsp; He remarks,
&ldquo;The plan might be commenced between the towns of
Manchester and Liverpool, where a trial could soon be made, as
the distance is not very great, and the commercial part of
England would thereby be better able to appreciate its many
excellent properties and prove its efficacy.&nbsp; All the great
trading towns of Lancashire and Yorkshire would then eagerly
embrace the opportunity to secure so commodious and easy a
conveyance, and cause branch railways to be laid down in every
possible direction.&nbsp; The convenience and economy in the
carriage of the raw material to the numerous manufactories
established in these counties, the expeditious and cheap delivery
of piece goods bought by the merchants every week at the various
markets, and the despatch in forwarding bales and packages to the
outposts <!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 24</span>cannot fail to strike the merchant
and manufacturer as points of the first importance.&nbsp;
Nothing, for example, would be so likely to raise the ports of
Hull, Liverpool, and Bristol to an unprecedented pitch of
prosperity as the establishment of railways to those ports,
thereby rendering the communication from the east to the west
seas, and all intermediate places, rapid, cheap, and
effectual.&nbsp; Anyone at all conversant with commerce must feel
the vast importance of such an undertaking in forwarding the
produce of America, Brazils, the East and West Indies, etc., from
Liverpool and Bristol, <i>via</i> Hull, to the opposite shores of
Germany and Holland, and, <i>vice versa</i>, the produce of the
Baltic, <i>via</i> Hull, to Liverpool and Bristol.&nbsp; Again,
by the establishment of morning and evening mail steam carriages,
the commercial interest would derive considerable advantage; the
inland mails might be forwarded with greater despatch and the
letters delivered much earlier than by the extra post; the
opportunity of correspondence between London and all mercantile
places would be much improved, and the rate of postage might be
generally diminished without injuring the receipts of the post
office, because any deficiency occasioned by a reduction in the
postage would be made good by the increased number of journeys
which mail steam carriages might make.&nbsp; The London and
Edinburgh mail steam carriages might take all the mails and
parcels on the line of road between these two cities, which would
exceedingly reduce the expense occasioned by mail coaches on the
present footing.&nbsp; The ordinary stage coaches, caravans, or
wagons, running any considerable distance along the main railway,
might also be conducted on peculiarly favourable terms to the
public; for instance, one steam engine of superior power would
enable its proprietors to convey several coaches, caravans, or
wagons, linked together until they arrive at their respective
branches, when other engines might proceed on with them to their
destination.&nbsp; By a due regulation of the departure and
arrival of coaches, caravans, and wagons along these branches the
whole communication throughout the country would be so simple and
so complete as to enable every individual to partake of the
various productions of particular situations, and to enjoy, at a
moderate expense every improvement introduced into society.&nbsp;
The great <!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 25</span>economy of such a measure must be
obvious to everyone, seeing that, instead of each coach changing
horses between London and Edinburgh, say twenty-five times,
requiring a hundred horses, besides the supernumerary ones kept
at every stage in case of accidents, the whole journey of several
coaches would be performed with the simple expense of one steam
engine.&nbsp; No animal strength will be able to give that
uniform and regular acceleration to our commercial intercourse
which may be accomplished by railways; however great animal
speed, there cannot be a doubt that it would be considerably
surpassed by mail steam carriages, and that the expense would be
infinitely less.&nbsp; The exorbitant charge now made for small
parcels prevents that natural intercourse of friendship between
families resident in different parts of the kingdom, in the same
manner as the heavy postage of letters prevents free
communication, and consequently diminishes very considerably the
consumption of paper which would take place under a less
burdensome taxation.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Gray&rsquo;s book would no doubt excite ridicule and
amazement when published sixty years ago.&nbsp; The farmers of
that day might well be excused for incredulity when perusing a
passage like the following:&mdash;&ldquo;The present system of
conveyance,&rdquo; says Mr. Gray, &ldquo;affords but tolerable
accommodation to farmers, and the common way in which they attend
markets must always confine them within very limited
distances.&nbsp; It is, however, expected that the railway will
present a suitable conveyance for attending market-towns thirty
or forty miles off, as also for forwarding considerable supplies
of grain, hay, straw, vegetables, and every description of live
stock to the metropolis at a very easy expense, and with the
greatest celerity, from all parts of the kingdom.&rdquo;</p>
<p>A writer in Chambers&rsquo;s Journal, 1847,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;It was not until after four or five years
of agitation, and several editions of Mr. Gray&rsquo;s work had
been published and successively commented upon by many
newspapers, that commercial men were roused to give the proposed
scheme its first great trial on the road between Liverpool and
Manchester.&nbsp; The success of that experiment, insured by the
engineering skill of Stephenson, was the signal for all that <!--
page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
26</span>has since been done both in this island and in other
parts of the world.&nbsp; Unfortunately, the public has been too
busy these many years in making railways to inquire to whom it
owes its gratitude for having first expounded and advocated their
claims; and probably there are few men now living who have served
the public as effectually, with so little return in the way of
thanks or applause, as Mr. Thomas Gray, the proposer in 1820 of a
general system of transit by railways.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Poor Gray!&nbsp; He was far ahead of his times.&nbsp; Public
men called him a bore, and people in Nottingham, where he
resided, said he was cracked.&nbsp; The <i>Quarterly Review</i>
declared such persons are not worth our notice, and the
<i>Edinburgh Review</i> said &ldquo;Put him in a straight
jacket.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus the world is often ignorant of its
greatest benefactors.&nbsp; Gray died in poverty.&nbsp; His widow
and daughters earned their living by teaching a small school at
Exeter.</p>
<h2>OPENING OF THE DARLINGTON AND STOCKTON RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>In the autumn of 1825 the <i>Times</i> gave an account of the
origin of one of the most gigantic enterprises of modern
times.&nbsp; In that year the Darlington and Stockton Railway was
formally opened by the proprietors for the use of the
public.&nbsp; It was a single railway, and the object of its
promoters was to open the London market to the Durham Collieries,
as well as to facilitate the obtaining of fuel to the country
along its line and certain parts of Yorkshire.&nbsp; The account
of the opening says:&mdash;</p>
<p>A train of carriages was attached to a locomotive engine of
the most improved construction, and built by Mr. George
Stephenson, in the following order:&mdash;(1) Locomotive engine,
with the engineer and assistants; (2) tender with coals and
water; next six wagons loaded with coals and flour; then an
elegant covered coach, with the committee and other proprietors
of the railway; then 21 wagons fitted up on the occasion for
passengers; and, last of all, six wagons loaded with coals,
making altogether a train of 38 carriages, exclusive of the
engine and tender.&nbsp; Tickets were distributed to the number
of nearly 300 for those whom it was intended should occupy the
coach and wagons; but such was the pressure and crowd that both
loaded and <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 27</span>empty carriages were instantly filled
with passengers.&nbsp; The signal being given, the engine started
off with this immense train of carriages.&nbsp; In some parts the
speed was frequently 12 miles per hour, and in one place, for a
short distance, near Darlington, 15 miles per hour, and at that
time the number of passengers was counted to 450, which, together
with the coals, merchandise, and carriages, would amount to
nearly 90 tons.&nbsp; After some little delay in arranging the
procession, the engine, with her load, arrived at Darlington a
distance of eight miles and three-quarters, in 65 minutes,
exclusive of stops, averaging about eight miles an hour.&nbsp;
The engine arrived at Stockton in three hours and seven minutes
after leaving Darlington, including stops, the distance being
nearly 12 miles, which is at the rate of four miles an hour, and
upon the level part of the railway the number of passengers in
the wagons was counted about 550, and several more clung to the
carriages on each side, so that the whole number could not be
less than 600.</p>
<h2>EARLY RAILWAY COMPETITION.</h2>
<p>The first Stockton and Darlington Act gave permission to all
parties to use the line on payment of certain rates.&nbsp; Thus
private individuals might work their own horses and carriages
upon the railway and be their own carriers.&nbsp; Mr. Clepham, in
the <i>Gateshead Observer</i>, gives an interesting account of
the competition induced by the system:&mdash;&ldquo;There were
two separate coach companies in Stockton, and amusing collisions
sometimes occurred between the drivers&mdash;who found on the
rail a novel element for contention.&nbsp; Coaches cannot pass
each other on the rail as on the road; and at the more westward
public-house in Stockton (the Bay Horse, kept by Joe Buckton),
the coach was always on the line betimes, reducing its eastward
rival to the necessity of waiting patiently (or impatiently) in
the rear.&nbsp; The line was single, with four sidings in the
mile; and when two coaches met, or two trains, or coach and
train, the question arose which of the drivers must go
back?&nbsp; This was not always settled in silence.&nbsp; As to
trains, it came to be a sort of understanding that light wagons
should give way to loaded; as to trains and coaches, that the
passengers should <!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 28</span>have preference over coals; while
coaches, when they met, must quarrel it out.&nbsp; At length,
midway between sidings a post was erected, and a rule was laid
down that he who had passed the pillar must go on, and the coming
man go back.&nbsp; At the Goose Pool and Early Nook, it was
common for these coaches to stop; and there, as Jonathan would
say, passengers and coachmen &lsquo;liquored.&rsquo;&nbsp; One
coach, introduced by an innkeeper, was a compound of two mourning
coaches, an approximation to the real railway coach, which still
adheres, with multiplying exceptions, to the stage coach
type.&nbsp; One Dixon, who drove the &lsquo;Experiment&rsquo;
between Darlington and Shildon, is the inventor of carriage
lighting on the rail.&nbsp; On a dark winter night, having
compassion on his passengers, he would buy a penny candle, and
place it lighted amongst them, on the table of the
&lsquo;Experiment&rsquo;&mdash;the first railway coach (which, by
the way, ended its days at Shildon, as a railway cabin), being
also the first coach on the rail (first, second, and third class
jammed all into one) that indulged its customers with light in
darkness.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CALCULATION AS TO RAILWAY SPEED.</h2>
<p>The Editor of <i>The Scotsman</i>, having engaged in
researches into the laws of friction established by Vince and
Coloumb, published the results in a series of articles in his
journal in 1824 showing how twenty miles an hour was, on
theoretic grounds, within the limits of possibility; and it was
to his writings on this point that Mr. Nicholas Wood alluded when
he spoke of the ridiculous expectation that engines would ever
travel at the rate of twenty, or even twelve miles an hour.</p>
<h2>ALARMIST VIEWS.</h2>
<p>A writer in the <i>Quarterly Review</i>, in 1825, was quite
prophetical as to the dangers connected with railway
travelling.&nbsp; He observes:&mdash;&ldquo;It is certainly some
consolation to those who are to be whirled at the rate of 18 or
20 miles an hour by means of a high-pressure engine, to be told
that there is no danger of being sea-sick while on shore, that
they are not to be scalded to death, nor drowned, nor dashed to
pieces by the bursting of a boiler; and that they need not <!--
page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
29</span>mind being struck by the flying off or breaking of a
wheel.&nbsp; What can be more palpably absurd or ridiculous than
the prospect held out of locomotives travelling <i>twice as
fast</i> as stage coaches!&nbsp; We should as soon expect the
people of Woolwich to suffer themselves to be fired off upon one
of Congreve&rsquo;s Ricochet Rockets, as trust themselves to the
mercy of such a machine going at such a rate.&nbsp; We will back
old Father Thames against the Woolwich Railway for any sum.&nbsp;
We trust that Parliament will, in all railways it may sanction,
limit the speed to <i>eight or nine miles an hour</i>, which we
entirely agree with Mr. Sylvestor is as great as can be ventured
on with safety.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>PARLIAMENTARY OPPOSITION.</h2>
<p>On the third reading of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway
Bill in the House of Commons, The Hon. Edward Stanley moved that
the bill be read that day six months, assigning, among other
reasons, that the railway trains worked by horses would take ten
hours to do the distance, and that they could not be worked by
locomotive engines.&nbsp; Sir Isaac Coffin seconded the motion,
indignantly denouncing the project as fraught with fraud and
imposition.&nbsp; He would not consent to see widows&rsquo;
premises invaded, and &ldquo;how,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;would
any person like to have a railroad under his parlour window? . .
.&nbsp; What, he would like to know, was to be done with all
those who had advanced money in making and repairing
turnpike-roads?&nbsp; What with those who may still wish to
travel in their own or hired carriages, after the fashion of
their forefathers?&nbsp; What was to become of coach-makers and
harness-makers, coach-masters and coachmen, innkeepers,
horse-breeders, and horse-dealers?&nbsp; Was the House aware of
the smoke and noise, the hiss and whirl, which locomotive
engines, passing at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour,
would occasion?&nbsp; Neither the cattle ploughing in the fields
or grazing in the meadows could behold them without dismay. . .
.&nbsp; Iron would be raised in price 100 per cent., or, more
probably, exhausted altogether!&nbsp; It would be the greatest
nuisance, the most complete disturbance of quiet and comfort in
all parts of the kingdom, that the ingenuity of man could
invent!&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
30</span>SPEED OF RAILWAY ENGINES.</h2>
<p>At the present day it is amusing to read the speeches of the
counsel employed against an act of Parliament being passed in
favour of the railway between Liverpool and Manchester.&nbsp; Mr.
Harrison, who appeared on behalf of certain landowners against
the scheme, thus spoke with regard to the powers of the
locomotive engine:&mdash;&ldquo;When we set out with the original
prospectus&mdash;I am sorry I have not got the paper with
me&mdash;we were to gallop, I know not at what rate, I believe it
was at the rate of twelve miles an hour.&nbsp; My learned friend,
Mr. Adam, contemplated, possibly in alluding to Ireland, that
some of the Irish members would arrive in wagons to a
division.&nbsp; My learned friend says, that they would go at the
rate of twelve miles an hour, with the aid of a devil in the form
of a locomotive, sitting as a postillion upon the fore-horse, and
an Honourable Member, whom I do not see here, sitting behind him
to stir up the fire, and to keep it up at full speed.&nbsp; But
the speed at which these locomotive engines are to go has
slackened; Mr. Adam does not now go faster than five miles per
hour.&nbsp; The learned Sergeant says, he should like to have
seven, but he would be content to go six.&nbsp; I will show you
he cannot go six; and probably, for any practical purposes, I may
be able to show, that I can keep up with him by the canal.&nbsp;
Now the real evidence to which you alone can pay attention shows,
that practically, and for useful purposes, upon the average, and
to keep up the rate of speed continually, they may go at
something more than four miles an hour.&nbsp; In one of the
collieries, there is a small engine with wheels four feet in
diameter, which, with moderate weights has gone six; but I will
not admit, because, in an experiment or two, they may have been
driven at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour&mdash;because
a small engine has been driven at the rate of six, that this is
the average rate at which they can carry goods upon a railroad
for the purpose of commerce, for that is the point to which the
Committee ought to direct their attention, and to which the
evidence is to be applied.&nbsp; It is quite idle to suppose,
that an experiment made to ascertain the speed, when the power is
worked up to the greatest extent, can afford a fair criterion of
that which an engine will do in <!-- page 31--><a
name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>all states of
the weather.&nbsp; In the first place, locomotive engines are
liable to be operated upon by the weather.&nbsp; You are told
that they are affected by rain, and an attempt has been made to
cover them; but the wind will affect them, and any gale of wind
which would affect the traffic on the Mersey, would render it
impossible to set off a locomotive engine, either by poking up
the fire, or keeping up the pressure of the steam till the boiler
is ready to burst.&nbsp; I say so, for a scientific person
happened to see a locomotive engine coming down an inclined
plane, with a tolerable weight behind it, and he found that the
strokes were reduced from fifty to twelve, as soon as the wind
acted upon it; so that every gale that would produce an
interruption to the intercourse by the canals, would prevent the
progress of a locomotive engine, so that they have no advantage
in that respect.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED IN MAKING RAILWAY SURVEYS.</h2>
<p>Difficulties connected with making surveys of land were
encountered from the very commencement of railway
enterprise.&nbsp; The following dialogue on the subject took
place in the Committee of the House of Commons, April 27,
1825.&nbsp; Mr. Sergeant Spankie was the questioner and George
Stephenson was the respondent.</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;You were asked about the quality of the
soil through which you were to bore in order to ascertain the
strata, and you were rather taunted because you had not
ascertained the precise strata; had you any opportunity of
boring?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;I had none; I was threatened to be
driven off the ground, and severely used if I were found upon the
ground.&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;You were right, then, not to attempt to
bore?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;Of course, I durst not attempt to bore,
after those threats.&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;Were you exposed to any inconvenience
in taking your surveys in consequence of these
interruptions?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;We were.&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;On whose property?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;On my Lord Sefton&rsquo;s, Lord
Derby&rsquo;s, and particularly Mr. Bradshaw&rsquo;s
part.&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;I believe you came near the coping of
some of the canals?&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
32</span><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;I believe I was threatened to be
ducked in the pond if I proceeded; and, of course we had a great
deal of the survey to make by stealth, at the time the persons
were at dinner; we could not get it by night, and guns were
discharged over the grounds belonging to Captain Bradshaw, to
prevent us; I can state further, I was twice turned off the
ground myself (Mr. Bradshaw&rsquo;s) by his men; and they said,
if I did not go instantly they would take me up, and carry me off
to Worsley.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Committee.&nbsp; <i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;Had you ever asked
leave?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;I did, of all the gentlemen to whom I
have alluded; at least, if I did not ask leave of all myself, I
did of my Lord Derby, but I did not of Lord Sefton, but the
Committee had&mdash;at least I was so informed; and I last year
asked leave of Mr. Bradshaw&rsquo;s tenants to pass there, and
they denied me; they stated that damage had been done, and I said
if they would tell me what it was, I would pay them, and they
said it was two pounds, and I paid it, though I do not believe it
amounted to one shilling.&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do you suppose it is a likely thing to
obtain leave from any gentleman to survey his land, when he knew
that your men had gone upon his land to take levels without his
leave, and he himself found them going through the corn, and
through the gardens of his tenants, and trampling down the
strawberry beds, which they were cultivating for the Liverpool
market?&rdquo;</p>
<p><i>A</i>.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have found it sometimes very
difficult to get through places of that kind.&rdquo;</p>
<p>In some cases, Mr. Williams remarks, large bodies of navvies
were collected for the defence of the surveyors; and being
liberally provided with liquor, and paid well for the task, they
intimidated the rightful owners, who were obliged to be satisfied
with warrants of committal and charges of assault.&nbsp; The
navvies were the more willing to engage in such undertakings,
because the project, if carried out, afforded them the prospect
of increased labour.</p>
<h2>LIVERPOOL AND MANCHESTER RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>Mr. C. F. Adams, jun., remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;It was this
element of spontaneity, therefore,&mdash;the instant and dramatic
recognition of success, which gave a peculiar interest to
everything <!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 33</span>connected with the Manchester and
Liverpool railroad.&nbsp; The whole world was looking at it, with
a full realizing sense that something great and momentous was
impending.&nbsp; Every day people watched the gradual development
of the thing, and actually took part in it.&nbsp; In doing so
they had sensations and those sensations they have
described.&nbsp; There is consequently an element of human nature
surrounding it.&nbsp; To their descriptions time has only lent a
new freshness.&nbsp; They are full of honest wonder.&nbsp; They
are much better and more valuable and more interesting now than
they were fifty years ago, and for that reason are well worth
exhuming.</p>
<p>&ldquo;To introduce the contemporaneous story of the day,
however, it is not necessary even to briefly review the long
series of events which had slowly led up to it.&nbsp; The world
is tolerably familiar with the early life of George Stephenson,
and with the vexatious obstacles he had to overcome before he
could even secure a trial for his invention.&nbsp; The man
himself, however, is an object of a good deal more curiosity to
us, than he was to those among whom he lived and moved.&nbsp; A
living glimpse at him now is worth dwelling upon, and is the best
possible preface to any account of his great day of life
triumph.&nbsp; Just such a glimpse of the man has been given to
us at the moment when at last all difficulties had been
overcome&mdash;when the Manchester and Liverpool railroad was
completed; and, literally, not only the eyes of Great Britain but
those of all civilized countries were directed to it and to him
who had originated it.&nbsp; At just that time it chanced that
the celebrated actor, John Kemble, was fulfilling an engagement
at Liverpool with his daughter, since known as Mrs. Frances
Kemble Butler.&nbsp; The extraordinary social advantages the
Kemble family enjoyed gave both father and daughter opportunities
such as seldom come in the way of ordinary mortals.&nbsp; For the
time being they were, in fact, the lions of the stage, just as
George Stephenson was the lion of the new railroad.&nbsp; As was
most natural the three lions were brought together.&nbsp; The
young actress has since published her impressions, jotted down at
the time, of the old engineer.&nbsp; Her account of a ride side
by side with George Stephenson, on the seat of his locomotive,
over the as yet unopened road, is one of the most interesting and
life-like records we have of the <!-- page 34--><a
name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>man and the
enterprise.&nbsp; Perhaps it is the most interesting.&nbsp; The
introduction is Mrs. Kemble&rsquo;s own, and written forty-six
years after the experience:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;While we were acting at Liverpool, an experimental trip
was proposed upon the line of railway which was being constructed
between Liverpool and Manchester, the first mesh of that amazing
iron net which now covers the whole surface of England, and all
civilized portions of the earth.&nbsp; The Liverpool merchants,
whose far-sighted self-interest prompted to wise liberality, had
accepted the risk of George Stephenson&rsquo;s magnificent
experiment, which the committee of inquiry of the House of
Commons had rejected for the Government.&nbsp; These men, of less
intellectual culture than the Parliament members, had the
adventurous imagination proper to great speculators, which is the
poetry of the counting house and wharf, and were better able to
receive the enthusiastic infection of the great projector&rsquo;s
sanguine hope than the Westminster committee.&nbsp; They were
exultant and triumphant at the near completion of the work,
though, of course, not without some misgivings as to the eventual
success of the stupendous enterprise.&nbsp; My father knew
several of the gentlemen most deeply interested in the
undertaking, and Stephenson having proposed a trial trip as far
as the fifteen-mile viaduct, they, with infinite kindness,
invited him and permitted me to accompany them: allowing me,
moreover, the place which I felt to be one of supreme honour, by
the side of Stephenson.&nbsp; All that wonderful history, as much
more interesting than a romance as truth is stranger than
fiction, which Mr. Smiles&rsquo;s biography of the projector has
given in so attractive a form to the world, I then heard from his
own lips.&nbsp; He was rather a stern-featured man, with a dark
and deeply marked countenance: his speech was strongly inflected
with his native Northumbrian accent, but the fascination of that
story told by himself, while his tame dragon flew panting along
his iron pathway with us, passed the first reading of the Arabian
Nights, the incidents of which it almost seemed to recall.&nbsp;
He was wonderfully condescending and kind, in answering all the
questions of my eager ignorance, and I listened to him with eyes
brimful of warm tears of sympathy and enthusiasm, as he told me
of all his alternations of hope <!-- page 35--><a
name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>and fear, of
his many trials and disappointments, related with fine scorn, how
the &ldquo;Parliament men&rdquo; had badgered and baffled him
with their book-knowledge, and how, when at last they had
smothered the irrepressible prophecy of his genius in the quaking
depths of Chat Moss, he had exclaimed, &lsquo;Did ye ever see a
boat float on water?&nbsp; I will make my road float upon Chat
Moss!&rsquo;&nbsp; The well-read Parliament men (some of whom,
perhaps, wished for no railways near their parks and
pleasure-grounds) could not believe the miracle, but the shrewd
Liverpool merchants, helped to their faith by a great vision of
immense gain, did; and so the railroad was made, and I took this
memorable ride by the side of its maker, and would not have
exchanged the honour and pleasure of it for one of the shares in
the speculation.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;<span
class="smcap">Liverpool</span>, August 26th, 1830.</p>
<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">My Dear H&mdash;</span>: A common
sheet of paper is enough for love, but a foolscap extra can only
contain a railroad and my ecstasies.&nbsp; There was once a man
born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, who was a common coal-digger; this
man had an immense constructiveness, which displayed itself in
pulling his watch to pieces and putting it together again; in
making a pair of shoes when he happened to be some days without
occupation; finally&mdash;here there is a great gap in my
story&mdash;it brought him in the capacity of an engineer before
a Committee of the House of Commons, with his head full of plans
for constructing a railroad from Liverpool to Manchester.&nbsp;
It so happened that to the quickest and most powerful perceptions
and conceptions, to the most indefatigable industry and
perseverance, and the most accurate knowledge of the phenomena of
nature as they affect his peculiar labours, this man joined an
utter want of the &lsquo;gift of gab;&rsquo; he could no more
explain to others what he meant to do and how he meant to do it,
than he could fly, and therefore the members of the House of
Commons, after saying &lsquo;There is a rock to be excavated to a
depth of more than sixty feet, there are embankments to be made
nearly to the same height, there is a swamp of five miles in
length to be traversed, in which if you drop an iron rod it sinks
and disappears; how will you do all this?&rsquo; and <!-- page
36--><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
36</span>receiving no answer but a broad Northumbrian, &lsquo;I
can&rsquo;t tell you how I&rsquo;ll do it, but I can tell you I
<i>will</i> do it,&rsquo; dismissed Stephenson as a
visionary.&nbsp; Having prevailed upon a company of Liverpool
gentlemen to be less incredulous, and having raised funds for his
great undertaking, in December of 1826 the first spade was struck
in the ground.&nbsp; And now I will give you an account of my
yesterday&rsquo;s excursion.&nbsp; A party of sixteen persons was
ushered into a large court-yard, where, under cover, stood
several carriages of a peculiar construction, one of which was
prepared for our reception.&nbsp; It was a long-bodied vehicle
with seats placed across it back to back; the one we were in had
six of these benches, and was a sort of uncovered <i>char
&agrave; banc</i>.&nbsp; The wheels were placed upon two iron
bands, which formed the road, and to which they are fitted, being
so constructed as to slide along without any danger of hitching
or becoming displaced, on the same principle as a thing sliding
on a concave groove.&nbsp; The carriage was set in motion by a
mere push, and, having received this impetus, rolled with us down
an inclined plane into a tunnel, which forms the entrance to the
railroad.&nbsp; This tunnel is four hundred yards long (I
believe), and will be lighted by gas.&nbsp; At the end of it we
emerged from darkness, and, the ground becoming level, we
stopped.&nbsp; There is another tunnel parallel with this, only
much wider and longer, for it extends from the place we had now
reached, and where the steam carriages start, and which is quite
out of Liverpool, the whole way under the town, to the
docks.&nbsp; This tunnel is for wagons and other heavy carriages;
and as the engines which are to draw the trains along the
railroad do not enter these tunnels, there is a large building at
this entrance which is to be inhabited by steam engines of a
stationary turn of mind, and different constitution from the
travelling ones, which are to propel the trains through the
tunnels to the terminus in the town, without going out of their
houses themselves.&nbsp; The length of the tunnel parallel to the
one we passed through is (I believe) two thousand two hundred
yards.&nbsp; I wonder if you are understanding one word I am
saying all this while?&nbsp; We were introduced to the little
engine which was to drag us along the rails.&nbsp; She (for they
make these curious little fire horses all mares) consisted of
<!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
37</span>a boiler, a stove, a platform, a bench, and behind the
bench a barrel containing enough water to prevent her being
thirsty for fifteen miles,&mdash;the whole machine not bigger
than a common fire engine.&nbsp; She goes upon two wheels, which
are her feet, and are moved by bright steel legs called pistons;
these are propelled by steam, and in proportion as more steam is
applied to the upper extremities (the hip-joints, I suppose) of
these pistons, the faster they move the wheels; and when it is
desirable to diminish the speed, the steam, which unless suffered
to escape would burst the boiler, evaporates through a safety
valve into the air.&nbsp; The reins, bit, and bridle of this
wonderful beast, is a small steel handle, which applies or
withdraws the steam from its legs or pistons, so that a child
might manage it.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The coals, which are its oats, were under the bench,
and there was a small glass tube affixed to the boiler, with
water in it, which indicates by its fullness or emptiness when
the creature wants water, which is immediately conveyed to it
from its reservoirs.&nbsp; There is a chimney to the stove, but
as they burn coke there is none of the dreadful black smoke which
accompanies the progress of a steam vessel.&nbsp; This snorting
little animal, which I felt rather inclined to pat, was then
harnessed to our carriage, and Mr. Stephenson having taken me on
the bench of the engine with him, we started at about ten miles
an hour.&nbsp; The steam horse being ill adapted for going up and
down hill, the road was kept at a certain level, and appeared
sometimes to sink below the surface of the earth and sometimes to
rise above it.&nbsp; Almost at starting it was cut through the
solid rock, which formed a wall on either side of it, about sixty
feet high.&nbsp; You can&rsquo;t imagine how strange it seemed to
be journeying on thus, without any visible cause of progress
other than the magical machine, with its flying white breath and
rhythmical, unvarying pace, between these rocky walls, which are
already clothed with moss and ferns and grasses; and when I
reflected that these great masses of stone had been cut asunder
to allow our passage thus far below the surface of the earth, I
felt as if no fairy tale was ever half so wonderful as what I
saw.&nbsp; Bridges were thrown from side to side across the top
of these cliffs, and the people looking down upon us from them
seemed like pigmies <!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 38</span>standing in the sky.&nbsp; I must be
more concise, though, or I shall want room.&nbsp; We were to go
only fifteen miles, that distance being sufficient to show the
speed of the engine, and to take us to the most beautiful and
wonderful object on the road.&nbsp; After proceeding through this
rocky defile, we presently found ourselves raised upon
embankments ten or twelve feet high; we then came to a moss or
swamp, of considerable extent, on which no human foot could tread
without sinking, and yet it bore the road which bore us.&nbsp;
This had been the great stumbling-block in the minds of the
committee of the House of Commons; but Mr. Stephenson has
succeeded in overcoming it.&nbsp; A foundation of hurdles, or, as
he called it, basket-work, was thrown over the morass, and the
interstices were filled with moss and other elastic matter.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Upon this the clay and soil were laid down, and the
road does float, for we passed over it at the rate of five and
twenty miles an hour, and saw the stagnant swamp water trembling
on the surface of the soil on either side of us.&nbsp; I hope you
understand me.&nbsp; The embankment had gradually been rising
higher and higher, and in one place where the soil was not
settled enough to form banks, Stephenson had constructed
artificial ones of woodwork, over which the mounds of earth were
heaped, for he said that though the woodwork would rot, before it
did so the banks of earth which covered it would have been
sufficiently consolidated to support the road.&nbsp; We had now
come fifteen miles, and stopped where the road traversed a wide
and deep valley.&nbsp; Stephenson made me alight and led me down
to the bottom of this ravine, over which, in order to keep his
road level, he has thrown a magnificent viaduct of nine arches,
the middle one of which is seventy feet high, through which we
saw the whole of this beautiful little valley.&nbsp; It was
lovely and wonderful beyond all words.&nbsp; He here told me many
curious things respecting this ravine; how he believed the Mersey
had once rolled through it; how the soil had proved so
unfavorable for the foundation of his bridge that it was built
upon piles, which had been driven into the earth to an enormous
depth; how while digging for a foundation he had come to a tree
bedded in the earth, fourteen feet below the surface of the
ground; how tides are caused, and how another flood <!-- page
39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>might
be caused; all of which I have remembered and noted down at much
greater length than I can enter upon here.&nbsp; He explained to
me the whole construction of the steam engine, and said he could
soon make a famous engineer of me, which, considering the
wonderful things he has achieved, I dare not say is
impossible.&nbsp; His way of explaining himself is peculiar, but
very striking, and I understood, without difficulty, all that he
said to me.&nbsp; We then rejoined the rest of the party, and the
engine having received its supply of water, the carriage was
placed behind it, for it cannot turn, and was set off at its
utmost speed, thirty-five miles an hour, swifter than a bird
flies (for they tried the experiment with a snipe).&nbsp; You
cannot conceive what that sensation of cutting the air was; the
motion is as smooth as possible, too.&nbsp; I could either have
read or written; and as it was, I stood up, and with my bonnet
off &lsquo;drank the air before me.&rsquo;&nbsp; The wind, which
was strong, or perhaps the force of our own thrusting against it,
absolutely weighed my eyelids down.</p>
<p>&ldquo;When I closed my eyes this sensation of flying was
quite delightful, and strange beyond description; yet strange as
it was, I had a perfect sense of security, and not the slightest
fear.&nbsp; At one time, to exhibit the power of the engine,
having met another steam-carriage which was unsupplied with
water, Mr. Stephenson caused it to be fastened in front of ours;
moreover, a wagon laden with timber was also chained to us, and
thus propelling the idle steam-engine, and dragging the loaded
wagon which was beside it and our own carriage full of people
behind, this brave little she-dragon of ours flew on.&nbsp;
Farther on she met three carts, which, being fastened in front of
her, she pushed on before her without the slightest delay or
difficulty; when I add that this pretty little creature can run
with equal facility either backwards or forwards, I believe I
have given you an account of all her capacities.&nbsp; Now for a
word or two about the master of all these marvels, with whom I am
most horribly in love.&nbsp; He is a man from fifty to fifty-five
years of age; his face is fine, though careworn, and bears an
expression of deep thoughtfulness; his mode of explaining his
ideas is peculiar and very original, striking, and forcible; and
although his accents indicates strongly his <!-- page 40--><a
name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>north country
birth, his language has not the slightest touch of vulgarity or
coarseness.&nbsp; He has certainly turned my head.&nbsp; Four
years have sufficed to bring this great undertaking to an
end.&nbsp; The railroad will be opened upon the fifteenth of next
month.&nbsp; The Duke of Wellington is coming down to be present
on the occasion, and, I suppose, what with the thousands of
spectators and the novelty of the spectacle, there will never
have been a scene of more striking interest.&nbsp; The whole cost
of the work (including the engines and carriages) will have been
eight hundred and thirty thousand pounds; and it is already worth
double that sum.&nbsp; The directors have kindly offered us three
places for the opening, which is a great favour, for people are
bidding almost anything for a place, I understand.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Even while Miss Kemble was writing this letter, certainly
before it had reached her correspondent, the official programme
of that opening to which she was so eagerly looking forward was
thus referred to in the Liverpool papers:</p>
<p>&ldquo;The day of opening still remains fixed for Wednesday
the fifteenth instant.&nbsp; The company by whom the ceremony is
to be performed, is expected to amount to eight or nine hundred
persons, including the Duke of Wellington and several others of
the nobility.&nbsp; They will leave Liverpool at an early hour in
the forenoon, probably ten o&rsquo;clock, in carriages drawn by
eight or nine engines, including the new engine of Messrs.
Braithwaite and Ericsson, if it be ready in time.&nbsp; The other
engines will be those constructed by Mr. Stephenson, and each of
them will draw about a hundred persons.&nbsp; On their arrival at
Manchester, the company will enter the upper stories of the
warehouses by means of a spacious outside wooden staircase, which
is in course of erection for the purpose by Mr. Bellhouse.&nbsp;
The upper storey of the range of warehouses is divided into five
apartments, each measuring sixty-six feet by fifty-six.&nbsp; In
four of these a number of tables (which Mr. Bellhouse is also
preparing) will be placed, and the company will partake of a
splendid cold collation which is to be provided by Mr. Lynn, of
the Waterloo Hotel, Liverpool.&nbsp; A large apartment at the
east end of the warehouses will be reserved as a withdrawing room
for the ladies, and is partitioned off for that purpose.&nbsp;
After partaking of the hospitality of the <!-- page 41--><a
name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>directors,
the company will return to Liverpool in the same order in which
they arrive.&nbsp; We understand that each shareholder in the
railway will be entitled to a seat (transferable) in one of the
carriages, on this interesting and important occasion.&nbsp; It
may be proper to state, for the information of the public, that
no one will be permitted to go upon the railway between Ordsall
lane and the warehouses, and parties of the military and police
will be placed to preserve order, and prevent intrusion.&nbsp;
Beyond Ordsall lane, however, the public will be freely admitted
to view the procession as it passes: and no restriction will be
laid upon them farther than may be requisite to prevent them from
approaching too close to the rails, lest accidents should
occur.&nbsp; By extending themselves along either side of the
road towards Eccles any number of people, however great, may be
easily accommodated.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Of the carrying out on the 15th the programme thus carefully
laid down, a contemporaneous reporter has left the following
account:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The town itself [Liverpool] was never so full of
strangers; they poured in during the last and the beginning of
the present week from almost all parts of the three kingdoms, and
we believe that through Chester alone, which is by no means a
principal road to Liverpool, four hundred extra passengers were
forwarded on Tuesday.&nbsp; All the inns in the town were crowded
to overflowing, and carriages stood in the streets at night, for
want of room in the stable yards.</p>
<p>&ldquo;On the morning of Wednesday the population of the town
and of the country began very early to assemble near the
railway.&nbsp; The weather was favourable, and the
Company&rsquo;s station at the boundary of the town was the
rendezvous of the nobility and gentry who attended, to form the
procession at Manchester.&nbsp; Never was there such an
assemblage of rank, wealth, beauty, and fashion in this
neighbourhood.&nbsp; From before nine o&rsquo;clock until ten the
entrance in Crown street was thronged by the splendid equipages
from which the company was alighting, and the area in which the
railway carriages were placed was gradually filling with gay
groups eagerly searching for their respective places, as
indicated by numbers corresponding with those on their
tickets.&nbsp; The large and elegant car constructed for <!--
page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
42</span>the nobility, and the accompanying cars for the
Directors and the musicians were seen through the lesser tunnel,
where persons moving about at the far end appeared as diminutive
as if viewed through a concave glass.&nbsp; The effect was
singular and striking.&nbsp; In a short time all those cars were
brought along the tunnel into the yard which then contained all
the carriages, which were to be attached to the eight locomotive
engines which were in readiness beyond the tunnel in the great
excavation at Edge-hill.&nbsp; By this time the area presented a
beautiful spectacle, thirty-three carriages being filled by
elegantly dressed persons, each train of carriages being
distinguished by silk flags of different colours; the band of the
fourth King&rsquo;s Own Regiment, stationed in the adjoining
area, playing military airs, the Wellington Harmonic Band, in a
Grecian car for the procession, performing many beautiful
miscellaneous pieces; and a third band occupying a stage above
Mr. Harding&rsquo;s Grand Stand, at William the Fourth&rsquo;s
Hotel, spiritedly adding to the liveliness of the hour whenever
the other bands ceased.</p>
<p>&ldquo;A few minutes before ten, the discharge of a gun and
the cheers of the assembly announced the arrival of the Duke of
Wellington, who entered the area with the Marquis and Marchioness
of Salisbury and a number of friends, the band playing &lsquo;See
the conquering hero comes.&rsquo;&nbsp; He returned the
congratulations of the company, and in a few moments the grand
car, which he and the nobility and the principal gentry occupied,
and the cars attached to it, were permitted to proceed; we say
permitted, because no applied power, except a slight impulse at
first, is requisite to propel carriages along the tunnel, the
slope being just sufficient to call into effect the principle of
gravitation.&nbsp; The tunnel was lighted with gas, and the
motion in passing through it must have been as pleasing as it was
novel to all the party.&nbsp; On arriving at the engine station,
the cars were attached to the <i>Northumbrian</i> locomotive
engine, on the southern of the two lines of rail; and immediately
the other trains of carriages started through the tunnel and were
attached to their respective engines on the northern of the
lines.</p>
<p>&ldquo;We had the good fortune to have a place in the first
train after the grand cars, which train, drawn by the
<i>Phoenix</i>, <!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 43</span>consisted of three open and two close
carriages, each carrying twenty-six ladies and gentlemen.&nbsp;
The lofty banks of the engine station were crowded with thousands
of spectators, whose enthusiastic cheering seemed to rend the
air.&nbsp; From this point to Wavertree-lane, while the
procession was forming, the grand cars passed and repassed the
other trains of carriages several times, running as they did in
the same direction on the two parallel tracks, which gave the
assembled thousands and tens of thousands the opportunity of
seeing distinctly the illustrious strangers, whose presence gave
extraordinary interest to the scene.&nbsp; Some soldiers of the
4th Regiment assisted the railway police in keeping the way clear
and preserving order, and they discharged their duty in a very
proper manner.&nbsp; A few minutes before eleven all was ready
for the journey, and certainly a journey upon a railway is one of
the most delightful that can be imagined.&nbsp; Our first
thoughts it might be supposed, from the road being so level, were
that it must be monotonous and uninteresting.&nbsp; It is
precisely the contrary; for as the road does not rise and fall
like the ground over which we pass, but proceeds nearly at a
level, whether the land be high or low, we are at one moment
drawn through a hill, and find ourselves seventy feet below the
surface, in an Alpine chasm, and at another we are as many feet
above the green fields, traversing a raised path, from which we
look down upon the roofs of farm houses, and see the distant
hills and woods.&nbsp; These variations give an interest to such
a journey which cannot be appreciated until they are
witnessed.&nbsp; The signal gun being fired, we started in
beautiful style, amidst the deafening plaudits of the well
dressed people who thronged the numerous booths, and all the
walls and eminences on both sides the line.&nbsp; Our speed was
gradually increased till, entering the Olive Mountain excavation,
we rushed into the awful chasm at the rate of twenty-four miles
an hour.&nbsp; The banks, the bridges over our heads, and the
rude projecting corners along the sides, were covered with masses
of human beings past whom we glided as if upon the wings of the
wind.&nbsp; We soon came into the open country of Broad Green,
having fine views of Huyton and Prescot on the left, and the
hilly grounds of Cheshire on the right.&nbsp; Vehicles of every
description stood in the fields on both sides, and <!-- page
44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
44</span>thousands of spectators still lined the margin of the
road; some horses seemed alarmed, but after trotting with their
carriages to the farther hedges, they stood still as if their
fears had subsided.&nbsp; After passing Whiston, sometimes going
slowly, sometimes swiftly, we observed that a vista formed by
several bridges crossing the road gave a pleasing effect to the
view.&nbsp; Under Rainhill Bridge, which, like all the others,
was crowded with spectators, the Duke&rsquo;s car stopped until
we passed, and on this, as on similar occasions, we had excellent
opportunities of seeing the whole of the noble party,
distinguishing the Marquis and Marchioness of Salisbury, the Earl
and Countess of Wilton, Lord Stanley, and others, in the fore
part of the car; alongside of the latter part was Mr. Huskisson,
standing with his face always toward us; and further behind was
Lord Hill, and others, among whom the Mayor of Liverpool took his
station.&nbsp; At this place Mr. Bretherton had a large party of
friends in a field, overlooking the road.&nbsp; As we approached
the Sutton inclined plane the Duke&rsquo;s car passed us again at
a most rapid rate&mdash;it appeared rapid even to us who were
travelling then at, probably, fifteen miles an hour.&nbsp; We had
a fine view of Billings Hill from this neighbourhood, and of a
thousand various coloured fields.&nbsp; A grand stand was here
erected, beautifully decorated, and crowded with ladies and
gentlemen from St. Helen&rsquo;s and the neighbourhood.&nbsp;
Entering upon Parr Moss we had a good view of Newton Race Course
and the stands, and at this time the Duke was far ahead of us;
the grand cars appeared actually of diminutive dimensions, and in
a short time we saw them gliding beautifully over the Sankey
Viaduct, from which a scene truly magnificent lay before us.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The fields below us were occupied by thousands who
cheered us as we passed over the stupendous edifice; carriages
filled the narrow lanes, and vessels in the water had been
detained in order that their crews might gaze up at the gorgeous
pageant passing far above their masts heads.&nbsp; Here again was
a grand stand, and here again enthusiastic plaudits almost
deafened us.&nbsp; Shortly, we passed the borough of Newton,
crossing a fine bridge over the Warrington road, and reached
Parkside, seventeen miles from Liverpool, in about four minutes
under the hour.&nbsp; At <!-- page 45--><a
name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>this place
the engines were ranged under different watering stations to
receive fresh water, the whole extending along nearly half a mile
of road.&nbsp; Our train and two others passed the Duke&rsquo;s
car, and we in the first train had had our engine supplied with
water, and were ready to start, some time before we were aware of
the melancholy cause of our apparently great delay.&nbsp; We had
most of us, alighted, and were walking about, congratulating each
other generally, and the ladies particularly, on the truly
delightful treat we were enjoying, all hearts bounding with
joyous excitement, and every tongue eloquent in the praise of the
gigantic work now completed, and the advantages and pleasures it
afforded.&nbsp; A murmur and an agitation at a little distance
betokened something alarming and we too soon learned the nature
of that lamentable event, which we cannot record without the most
agonized feelings.&nbsp; On inquiring, we learnt the dreadful
particulars.&nbsp; After three of the engines with their trains
had passed the Duke&rsquo;s carriage, although the others had to
follow, the company began to alight from all the carriages which
had arrived.&nbsp; The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Huskisson had
just shaken hands, and Mr. Huskisson, Prince Esterhazy, Mr.
Birch, Mr. H. Earle, Mr. William Holmes, M.P., and others were
standing in the road, when the other carriages were
approaching.&nbsp; An alarm being given, most of the gentlemen
sprang into the carriage, but Mr. Huskisson seemed flurried, and
from some cause, not clearly ascertained, he fell under the
engine of the approaching carriages, the wheel of which shattered
his leg in the most dreadful manner.&nbsp; On being raised from
the ground by the Earl of Wilton, Mr. Holmes, and other
gentlemen, his only exclamations were:&mdash;&ldquo;Where is Mrs.
Huskisson?&nbsp; I have met my death.&nbsp; God forgive
me.&rdquo;&nbsp; Immediately after he swooned.&nbsp; Dr.
Brandreth, and Dr. Southey, of London, immediately applied
bandages to the limb.&nbsp; In a short time the engine was
detached from the Duke&rsquo;s carriage, and the musician&rsquo;s
car being prepared for the purpose, the Right Honourable
gentleman was placed in it, accompanied by his afflicted lady,
with Dr. Brandreth, Dr. Southey, Earl of Wilton, and Mr.
Stephenson, who set off in the direction of Manchester.</p>
<p><!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
46</span>&ldquo;The whole of the procession remained at least
another hour uncertain what course to adopt.&nbsp; A consultation
was held on the open part of the road, and the Duke of Wellington
was soon surrounded by the Directors, and a mournful group of
gentlemen.&nbsp; At first it was thought advisable to return to
Liverpool, merely despatching one engine and a set of carriages,
to convey home Lady Wilton, and others who did not wish to return
to Liverpool.&nbsp; The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel
seemed to favour this course; others thought it best to proceed
as originally intended: but no decision was made till the
Boroughreeve of Manchester stated, that if the procession did not
reach Manchester, where an unprecedented concourse of people
would be assembled, and would wait for it, he should be fearful
of the consequences to the peace of the town.&nbsp; This turned
the scale, and his Grace then proposed that the whole party
should proceed, and return as soon as possible, all festivity at
Manchester being avoided.&nbsp; The <i>Ph&oelig;nix</i>, with its
train, was then attached to the <i>North Star</i> and its train,
and from the two united a long chain was affixed to his
Grace&rsquo;s car, and although it was on the other line of rail,
it was found to draw the whole along exceedingly well.&nbsp;
About half-past one, we resumed our journey; and we should here
mention that the Wigan Branch Railway Company had erected near
Parkside bridge a grand stand, which they and their friends
occupied, and from which they enthusiastically cheered the
procession.&nbsp; On reaching the twentieth mile post we had a
beautiful view of Rivington Pike and Blackstone Edge, and at the
twenty-first the smoke of Manchester appeared to be directly at
the termination of our view.&nbsp; Groups of people continued to
cheer us, but we could not reply; our enjoyment was over.&nbsp;
Tyldesley Church, and a vast region of smiling fields here met
the eye, as we traversed the flat surface of Chat Moss, in the
midst of which a vast crowd was assembled to greet us with their
plaudits; and from the twenty-fourth mile post we began to find
ourselves flanked on both sides by spectators extending in a
continuous and thickening body all the way to Manchester.&nbsp;
At the twenty-fifth mile post we met Mr. Stephenson returning
with the <i>Northumbrian</i> engine.&nbsp; In answer to
innumerable and eager inquiries, <!-- page 47--><a
name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>Mr.
Stephenson said he had left Mr. Huskisson at the house of the
Rev. Mr. Blackburne, Vicar of Eccles, and had then proceeded to
Manchester, whence he brought back medical assistance, and that
the surgeons, after seeing Mr. Huskisson, had expressed a hope
that there was no danger.&nbsp; Mr. Stephenson&rsquo;s speed had
been at the rate of thirty-four miles an hour during this painful
errand.&nbsp; The engine being then again attached to the
Duke&rsquo;s car, the procession dashed forward, passing
countless thousands of people upon house tops, booths, high
ground, bridges, etc., and our readers must imagine, for we
cannot describe, such a movement through an avenue of living
beings, and extending six miles in length.&nbsp; Upon one bridge
a tri-colored flag was displayed; near another the motto of
&ldquo;Vote by ballot&rdquo; was seen; in a field near Eccles, a
poor and wretchedly dressed man had his loom close to the
roadside, and was weaving with all his might; cries of &ldquo;No
Corn Laws,&rdquo; were occasionally heard, and for about two
miles the cheerings of the crowd were interspersed with a
continual hissing and hooting from the minority.&nbsp; On
approaching the bridge which crosses the Irwell, the 59th
regiment was drawn up, flanking the road on each side, and
presenting arms as his Grace passed along.&nbsp; We reached the
warehouses at a quarter before three, and those who alighted were
shown into the large upper rooms where a most elegant cold
collation had been prepared by Mr. Lynn, for more than one
thousand persons.&nbsp; The greater portion of the company, as
the carriages continued to arrive, visited the rooms and partook
in silence of some refreshment.&nbsp; They then returned to their
carriages which had been properly placed for returning.&nbsp; His
Grace and the principal party did not alight; but he went through
a most fatiguing office for more than an hour and a half, in
shaking hands with thousands of people, to whom he stooped over
the hand rail of the carriage, and who seemed insatiable in their
desire to join hands with him.&nbsp; Many women brought their
children to him, lifting them up that he might bless them, which
he did, and during the whole time he had scarcely a
minute&rsquo;s respite.&nbsp; At half-past four the Duke&rsquo;s
car began to move away for Liverpool.</p>
<p><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
48</span>&ldquo;They would have been detained a little longer, in
order that three of the engines, which had been to Eccles for
water, might have dropped into the rear to take their places; but
Mr. Lavender represented that the crowd was so thickening in upon
all sides, and becoming so clamorous for admission into the area,
that he would not answer for the peace of the town, if further
delay took place.&nbsp; The three engines were on the same line
of rail as the Duke, and they could not cross to the other line
without getting to a turning place, and as the Duke could not be
delayed on account of his keeping the crowd together, there was
no alternative but to send the engines forward.&nbsp; One of the
other engines was then attached to our train, and we followed the
Duke rapidly, while the six trains behind had only three engines
left to bring them back.&nbsp; Of course, we kept pace with the
Duke, who stopped at Eccles to inquire after Mr. Huskisson.&nbsp;
The answer received was that there was now no hope of his life
being saved; and this intelligence plunged the whole party into
still deeper distress.&nbsp; We proceeded without meeting any
fresh incident until we passed Prescot, where we found two of the
three engines at the 6&frac12; mile post, where a turning had
been effected, but the third had gone on to Liverpool; we then
detached the one we had borrowed, and the three set out to meet
the six remaining trains of carriages.&nbsp; Our carriages were
then connected with the grand cars, the engine of which now drew
the whole number of nine carriages, containing nearly three
hundred persons, at a very smart rate.&nbsp; We were now getting
into vast crowds of people, most of them ignorant of the dreadful
event which had taken place, and all of them giving us
enthusiastic cheers which we could not return.</p>
<p>&ldquo;At Roby, his Grace and the Childwalls alighted and
proceeded home; our carriages then moved forward to Liverpool,
where we arrived about seven o&rsquo;clock, and went down the
great tunnel, under the town, a part of the work which, more than
any other, astonished the numerous strangers present.&nbsp; It
is, indeed, a wonderful work, and makes an impression never to be
effaced from the memory.&nbsp; The Company&rsquo;s yard, from St.
James&rsquo;s Street to Wapping, was filled with carriages
waiting for the returning parties, who separated with feelings of
mingled gratification and <!-- page 49--><a
name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>distress, to
which we shall not attempt to give utterance.&nbsp; We afterwards
learnt that the parties we left at Manchester placed the three
remaining engines together, and all the carriages together, so as
to form one grand procession, including twenty-four carriages,
and were coming home at a steady pace, when they were met near
Newton, by the other three engines, which were then attached to
the rest, and they arrived in Liverpool about ten
o&rsquo;clock.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Thus ended a pageant which, for importance as to its
object and grandeur in its details, is admitted to have exceeded
anything ever witnessed.&nbsp; We conversed with many gentlemen
of great experience in public life, who spoke of the scene as
surpassing anything they had ever beheld, and who computed, upon
data which they considered to be satisfactory, that not fewer
than 500,000 persons must have been spectators of the
procession.&rdquo;</p>
<p>So far from being a success, the occasion was, after the
accident to Mr. Huskisson, such a series of mortifying
disappointments and the Duke of Wellington&rsquo;s experience at
Manchester had been so very far removed from gratifying that the
directors of the company felt moved to exonerate themselves from
the load of censure by an official explanation.&nbsp; This they
did in the following language:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;On the subject of delay which took place in the
starting from Manchester, and consequently in the arrival at
Liverpool, of the last three engines, with twenty-four carriages
and six hundred passengers, being the train allotted to six of
the engines, we are authorized to state that the directors think
it due to the proprietors and others constituting the large
assemblage of company in the above trains to make known the
following particulars:</p>
<p>&ldquo;Three out of the six locomotive engines which belonged
to the above trains had proceeded on the south road from
Manchester to Eccles, to take in water, with the intention of
returning to Manchester, and so getting out of that line of road
before any of the trains should start on their return home.&nbsp;
Before this, however, was accomplished, the following
circumstances seemed to render it imperative for the train of
carriages containing the Duke of Wellington and a great many of
the distinguished visitors to leave Manchester.&nbsp; The
eagerness on the part of the crowd to see the Duke, <!-- page
50--><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>and
to shake hands with him, was very great, so much so that his
Grace held out both his hands to the pressing multitude at the
same time; the assembling crowd becoming more dense every minute,
closely surrounded the carriages, as the principal attraction was
this particular train.&nbsp; The difficulty of proceeding at all
increased every moment and consequently the danger of accident
upon the attempt being made to force a way through the throng
also increased.&nbsp; At this juncture Mr. Lavender, the head of
the police establishment of Manchester, interfered, and entreated
that the Duke&rsquo;s train should move on, or he could not
answer for the consequences.&nbsp; Under these circumstances, and
the day being well advanced, it was thought expedient at all
events to move forward while it was still practicable to do
so.&nbsp; The order was accordingly given, and the train passed
along out of the immediate neighbourhood of Manchester without
accident to anyone.&nbsp; When they had proceeded a few miles
they fell in with the engines belonging to the trains left at
Manchester, and these engines being on the same line as the
carriages of the procession, there was no alternative but
bringing the Duke&rsquo;s train back through the dense multitude
to Manchester, or proceeding with three extra engines to the
neighbourhood of Liverpool (all passing places from one road to
the other being removed, with a view to safety, on the occasion),
and afterwards sending them back to the assistance of the trains
unfortunately left behind.&nbsp; It was determined to proceed
towards Liverpool, as being decidedly the most advisable course
under the circumstances of the case; and it may be mentioned for
the satisfaction of any party who may have considered that he was
in some measure left in the lurch, that Mr. Moss, the Deputy
Chairman, had left Mrs. Moss and several of his family to come
with the trains which had been so left behind.&nbsp; Three
engines having to draw a load calculated for six, their progress
was of course much retarded, besides a considerable delay which
took place before the starting of the last trains, owing to the
uncertainty which existed as to what had become of the three
missing engines.&nbsp; These engines, after proceeding to within
a few miles of Liverpool, were enabled to return to Park-side, in
the neighbourhood of Newton, where they were attached to the
other three and the whole proceeding safely to Liverpool, where
they arrived at ten in the evening.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
51</span>The case was, however, here stated, to say the least, in
the mildest possible manner.&nbsp; The fact was that the
authorities at Manchester had, and not without reason, passed a
very panic-stricken hour on account of the Duke of
Wellington.&nbsp; That personage had been in a position of no
inconsiderable peril.&nbsp; Though the reporter preserved a
decorous silence on that point, the ministerial car had on the
way been pelted, as well as hooted; and at Manchester a vast mass
of not particularly well disposed persons had fairly overwhelmed
both police and soldiery, and had taken complete possession of
the tracks.&nbsp; They were not riotous but they were very rough;
and they insisted on climbing upon the carriages and pressing
their attentions on the distinguished inmates in a manner
somewhat at variance with English ideas of propriety.&nbsp; The
Duke&rsquo;s efforts at conciliatory manners, as evinced through
much hand-shaking, were not without significance.&nbsp; It was
small matter for wonder, therefore, that the terrified
authorities, before they got him out of their town, heartily
regretted that they had not allowed him to have his own way after
the accident to Mr. Huskisson, when he proposed to turn back
without coming to it.&nbsp; Having once got him safely started
back to Liverpool, therefore, they preferred to leave the other
guests to take care of themselves, rather than have the Duke face
the crowd again.&nbsp; As there were no sidings on that early
road, and the connections between the tracks had, as a measure of
safety, been temporarily removed, the ministerial train in moving
towards Liverpool had necessarily pushed before it the engines
belonging to the other trains.&nbsp; The unfortunate guests on
those other trains, thus left to their fate, had for the rest of
the day a very dreary time of it.&nbsp; To avoid accidents, the
six trains abandoned at Manchester were united into one, to which
were attached the three locomotives remaining.&nbsp; In this form
they started.&nbsp; Presently the strain broke the
couplings.&nbsp; Pieces of rope were then put in requisition, and
again they got in motion.&nbsp; In due time the three other
engines came along, but they could only be used by putting them
on in front of the three already attached to the train.&nbsp; Two
of them were used in that way, and the eleven cars thus drawn by
five locomotives, and preceded at a short distance by one other,
<!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
52</span>went on towards Liverpool.&nbsp; It was dark, and to
meet the exigencies of the occasion the first germ of the present
elaborate system of railroad night signals was improvised on the
spot.&nbsp; From the foremost and pioneer locomotive obstacles
were signalled to the train locomotives by the very primitive
expedient of swinging the lighted end of a tar-rope.&nbsp; At
Rainhill the weight of the train proved too much for the combined
motive-power, and the thoroughly wearied passengers had to leave
their carriages and walk up the incline.&nbsp; When they got to
the summit and, resuming their seats, were again in motion, fresh
delay was occasioned by the leading locomotive running into a
wheel-barrow, maliciously placed on the track to obstruct
it.&nbsp; Not until ten o&rsquo;clock did they enter the tunnel
at Liverpool.&nbsp; Meanwhile all sorts of rumours of general
disaster had for hours been circulating among the vast concourse
of spectators who were assembled waiting for their friends, and
whose relief expressed itself in hearty cheers as the train at
last rolled safely into the station.</p>
<p>We have also Miss Kemble&rsquo;s story of this day, to which
in her letter of August 25th she had looked forward with such
eager interest.&nbsp; With her father and mother she had been
staying at a country place in Lancashire, and in her account of
the affair, written in 1876, she says:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The whole gay party assembled at Heaton, my mother and
myself included, went to Liverpool for the opening of the
railroad.&nbsp; The throng of strangers gathered there for the
same purpose made it almost impossible to obtain a night&rsquo;s
lodging for love or money; and glad and thankful were we to put
up with and be put up in a tiny garret by an old friend, Mr.
Radley, of the Adelphi, which many would have given twice what we
paid to obtain.&nbsp; The day opened gloriously, and never was an
innumerable concourse of sight-seers in better humour than the
surging, swaying crowd that lined the railroad with living faces.
. .&nbsp; After this disastrous event [the accident to Mr.
Huskisson] the day became overcast, and as we neared Manchester
the sky grew cloudy and dark, and it began to rain.&nbsp; The
vast concourse of people who had assembled to witness the
triumphant arrival of the successful travellers was of the lowest
order of mechanics and artisans, among whom great <!-- page
53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
53</span>distress and a dangerous spirit of discontent with the
government at that time prevailed.&nbsp; Groans and hisses
greeted the carriage, full of influential personages, in which
the Duke of Wellington sat.&nbsp; High above the grim and grimy
crowd of scowling faces a loom had been erected, at which sat a
tattered, starved-looking weaver, evidently set there as a
<i>representative man</i>, to protest against this triumph of
machinery, and the gain and glory which the wealthy Liverpool and
Manchester men were likely to derive from it.&nbsp; The contrast
between our departure from Liverpool and our arrival at
Manchester was one of the most striking things I ever
witnessed.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><span
class="smcap">Manchester</span>, <i>September</i> 20<i>th</i>,
1830.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">My Dearest H&mdash;</span>:</p>
<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
<p>&ldquo;You probably have by this time heard and read accounts
of the opening of the railroad, and the fearful accident which
occurred at it, for the papers are full of nothing else.&nbsp;
The accident you mention did occur, but though the unfortunate
man who was killed bore Mr. Stephenson&rsquo;s name, he was not
related to him.&nbsp; [Besides Mr. Huskisson, another man named
Stephenson had about this time been killed on the
railroad].&nbsp; I will tell you something of the events on the
fifteenth, as though you may be acquainted with the circumstances
of poor Mr. Huskisson&rsquo;s death, none but an eye-witness of
the whole scene can form a conception of it.&nbsp; I told you
that we had had places given to us, and it was the main purpose
of our returning from Birmingham to Manchester to be present at
what promised to be one of the most striking events in the
scientific annals of our country.&nbsp; We started on Wednesday
last, to the number of about eight hundred people, in carriages
constructed as I before described to you.&nbsp; The most intense
curiosity and excitement prevailed, and though the weather was
uncertain, enormous masses of densely packed people lined the
road, shouting and waving hats and handkerchiefs as we flew by
them.&nbsp; What with the sight and sound of these cheering
multitudes and the tremendous velocity with which we were borne
past them, my spirits rose to the true champagne height, and I
never enjoyed anything so much as the first hour of <!-- page
54--><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>our
progress.&nbsp; I had been unluckily separated from my mother in
the first distribution of places, but by an exchange of seats
which she was enabled to make she rejoined me, when I was at the
height of my ecstasy, which was considerably damped by finding
that she was frightened to death, and intent upon nothing but
devising means of escaping from a situation which appeared to her
to threaten with instant annihilation herself and all her
travelling companions.&nbsp; While I was chewing the cud of this
disappointment, which was rather bitter, as I expected her to be
as delighted as myself with our excursion, a man flew by us,
calling out through a speaking trumpet to stop the engine, for
that somebody in the directors&rsquo; car had sustained an
injury.&nbsp; We were all stopped accordingly and presently a
hundred voices were heard exclaiming that Mr. Huskisson was
killed.&nbsp; The confusion that ensued is indescribable; the
calling out from carriage to carriage to ascertain the truth, the
contrary reports which were sent back to us, the hundred
questions eagerly uttered at once, and the repeated and urgent
demands for surgical assistance, created a sudden turmoil that
was quite sickening.&nbsp; At last we distinctly ascertained that
the unfortunate man&rsquo;s thigh was broken.</p>
<p>&ldquo;From Lady W&mdash;, who was in the duke&rsquo;s
carriage, and within three yards of the spot where the accident
happened, I had the following details, the horror of witnessing
which we were spared through our situation behind the great
carriage.&nbsp; The engine had stopped to take in a supply of
water, and several of the gentlemen in the directors&rsquo;
carriage had jumped out to look about them.&nbsp; Lord W&mdash;,
Count Batthyany, Count Matuscenitz, and Mr. Huskisson among the
rest were standing talking in the middle of the road, when an
engine on the other line, which was parading up and down merely
to show its speed, was seen coming down upon them like
lightning.&nbsp; The most active of those in peril sprang back
into their seats; Lord W&mdash; saved his life only by rushing
behind the duke&rsquo;s carriage, Count Matuscenitz had but just
leaped into it, with the engine all but touching his heels as he
did so; while poor Mr. Huskisson, less active from the effects of
age and ill health, bewildered too by the frantic cries of
&lsquo;Stop the engine: Clear the track!&rsquo; <!-- page 55--><a
name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>that
resounded on all sides, completely lost his head, looked
helplessly to the right and left, and was instantaneously
prostrated by the fatal machine, which dashed down like a
thunderbolt upon him, and passed over his leg, smashing and
mangling it in the most horrible way.&nbsp; (Lady W&mdash; said
she distinctly heard the crushing of the bone).&nbsp; So terrible
was the effect of the appalling accident that except that ghastly
&lsquo;crushing&rsquo; and poor Mrs. Huskisson&rsquo;s piercing
shriek, not a sound was heard or a word uttered among the
immediate spectators of the catastrophe.&nbsp; Lord W&mdash; was
the first to raise the poor sufferer, and calling to his aid his
surgical skill, which is considerable, he tied up the severed
artery, and for a time at least, prevented death by a loss of
blood.&nbsp; Mr. Huskisson was then placed in a carriage with his
wife and Lord W&mdash;, and the engine having been detached from
the directors&rsquo; carriage, conveyed them to Manchester.&nbsp;
So great was the shock produced on the whole party by this event
that the Duke of Wellington declared his intention not to
proceed, but to return immediately to Liverpool.&nbsp; However,
upon its being represented to him that the whole population of
Manchester had turned out to witness the procession, and that a
disappointment might give rise to riots and disturbances, he
consented to go on, and gloomily enough the rest of the journey
was accomplished.&nbsp; We had intended returning to Liverpool by
the railroad, but Lady W&mdash;, who seized upon me in the midst
of the crowd, persuaded us to accompany her home, which we gladly
did.&nbsp; Lord W&mdash; did not return till past ten
o&rsquo;clock, at which hour he brought the intelligence of Mr.
Huskisson&rsquo;s death.&nbsp; I need not tell you of the sort of
whispering awe which this event threw over our circle; and yet
great as was the horror excited by it, I could not help feeling
how evanescent the effect of it was, after all.&nbsp; The
shuddering terror of seeing our fellow-creature thus struck down
by our side, and the breathless thankfulness for our own
preservation, rendered the first evening of our party at Heaton
almost solemn; but the next day the occurrence became a subject
of earnest, it is true, but free discussion; and after that was
alluded to with almost as little apparent feeling as if it had
not passed under our eyes, and within the space of a few
hours.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
56</span>MRS. BLACKBURNE&rsquo;S PRESENTIMENT.</h2>
<p>Miss Kemble was mistaken in stating Mr. Huskisson after his
accident was removed to Manchester.&nbsp; He was conveyed to the
vicarage, at Eccles, near Manchester.&nbsp; Of the vicar&rsquo;s
wife, Dean Stanley&rsquo;s mother thus writes, (January 17,
1832,):&mdash;&ldquo;There is one person who interests me very
much, Mrs. Tom Blackburne, the Vicaress of Eccles, who received
poor Mr. Huskisson, and immortalised herself by her activity,
sense, and conduct throughout.&rdquo;&nbsp; A writer in the
<i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, for March, 1884, referring to the
opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;In celebration of this experiment, for even
then most people only looked upon it as a doubtful thing, the
houses of the adjacent parts of Lancashire were filled with
guests.&nbsp; Mr. John Blackburne, M.P., asked his brother and
sister-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Blackburne, to stay at Hale
Hall, near Liverpool, (which his ancestors in the direct line had
possessed since 1199,) and to go with his party to the ceremony
and fetes of the day.</p>
<p>The invitation was accepted, and Mr. and Mrs. Blackburne went
to Hale.&nbsp; Now, however, occurred one of those strange
circumstances utterly condemned by critics of fiction as
&lsquo;unreal,&rsquo; &lsquo;unnatural,&rsquo; or
&lsquo;impossible;&rsquo; only in this case it happened to be
true, in spite of all these epithets.&nbsp; Mrs. Blackburne,
rather strong-minded than otherwise, at all events one of the
last women in the world to be affected by imagination, became
possessed by an unmistakable presentiment, which made her feel
quite sure <i>that her presence was required at home</i>; <i>and
she went home at once</i>.&nbsp; There were difficulties in her
way; every carriage was required, but she would go.&nbsp; She
drove to Warrington, and from thence &lsquo;took boat&rsquo; up
the Irwell to Eccles.&nbsp; Canal boats were then regular
conveyances, divided into first and second classes.&nbsp; There
were no mobs or excitement anywhere on the 14th, and Mrs.
Blackburne got quickly to Eccles without any adventures.&nbsp;
When there, except that one of her children was unwell, she could
find nothing wrong, or in the least likely to account for the
presentiment which had driven her home in spite of all the
natural enough, ridicule of her husband and friends at Hale.</p>
<p><!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
57</span>Early on the morning of the 15th, an incident occurred,
the narration of which may throw some light on the temper of the
times.&nbsp; Mr. Barton, of Swinton, came to say that a mob was
expected to come from Oldham to attack the Duke of Wellington,
then at the height of his unpopularity among the masses; for just
by Eccles three miles of the line was left unguarded,
&lsquo;Could Mr. Blackburne say what was to be done?&rsquo;</p>
<p>&lsquo;My husband is away,&rsquo; said the Vicaress,
&lsquo;but I know that about fifty special constables were out
last year, the very men for this work, if their licenses have not
expired.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&lsquo;Never mind licenses,&rsquo; replied Mr. Barton, with a
superb indifference to form, quite natural under the
circumstances.&nbsp; &lsquo;Where can I find the men?&rsquo;</p>
<p>&lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; replied Mrs. Blackburne, &lsquo;I can get
the men for you.&rsquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Barton hesitated, but soon with gratitude accepted the
offer, and with the help of the churchwardens and constables
&lsquo;a guard for the Duke&rsquo; was soon collected on the
bridge of Eccles, armed with staves and clubs to be dispersed
along the line.</p>
<p>This done, she had a tent put up for herself and children,
with whom were Lord Wilton&rsquo;s little daughters, the Ladies
Elizabeth and Katherine Egerton, and their governess.&nbsp; The
tent was just above the cutting and looked down on to it, and
they would have a good view of the first train, expected to pass
about eleven o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; The morning wore on, the crowds
were increasing, and low murmurs of wonder were heard.&nbsp; It
was thought that the experiment had failed.&nbsp; A few of the
villagers came into the field, but none troubled the little band
of watchers.&nbsp; The bright sunshine had passed away, and it
had become dark, with large hot drops of rain, forerunners of a
coming thunderstorm.&nbsp; The people lined the whole of the way
from Manchester to Liverpool, and, as far as the eye could reach,
faces were seen anxiously looking towards Liverpool.&nbsp;
Suddenly a strange roar was heard from the crowd, not a cheer of
triumph, but a prolonged wail, beginning at the furthest point of
travelling along the swarming banks like the incoming swirl of a
breaker as it runs upon a gravelled beach.</p>
<p><!-- page 58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
58</span>Like a true woman, her first thought was for her
husband, as Mrs. Blackburne heard the words repeated on all
sides, &lsquo;An accident!&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;The
Vicarage!&rsquo;&nbsp; She flew across the field to the gate and
met a sad procession bringing in a sorely-wounded yet quite
conscious man.&nbsp; She saw in a moment that he had medals on
his coat, and had been very tall, so that it could not be as she
feared.&nbsp; The relief of that moment may be imagined.&nbsp;
Then the quiet presence of mind, by practice habitual to her, and
the ready flow of sympathy left her no time to think of anything
but the sufferer, who said to her pathetically, &lsquo;I shall
not trouble you long!&rsquo;&nbsp; She had not only the will but
the power to help, even to supplying from her own medicine chest
and stores, kept for the poor, everything that the surgeons
required.</p>
<p>It was Lord Wilton who suggested the removal of Mr. Huskisson
to Eccles Vicarage and improvised a tourniquet on the spot, while
soon the medical men who were in the train did what they could
for him.&nbsp; Mr. Blackburne, as will be remembered, was not
with his wife, and only the presentiment which had brought Mrs.
Blackburne home had given the means of so readily and quickly
obtaining surgical necessaries and rest.&nbsp; Mr. Blackburne,
writing to his mother-in-law the day after this accident,
referring to Mr. Huskisson, remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;To the last he
retained his senses.&nbsp; Lord Granville says when the dying man
heard Wilton propose to take him to this house he exclaimed,
&lsquo;Pray take me there; there I shall indeed be taken care
of.&rsquo;</p>
<p>But fancy my horror!&nbsp; <i>Not one word did I know of his
being here till I had passed the place</i>, <i>and was literally
eating my luncheon at Manchester</i>!&nbsp; In vain did I try to
get a conveyance, till at last the Duke of Wellington sent to me
and ordered his car to start, and I came with him back, he
intending to come here; but the crowd was so <i>immense</i> that
the police dared not let him get out.&nbsp; To be sure, when my
people on the bridge saw me standing with him, they did shout,
&lsquo;That&rsquo;s as it should be&mdash;Vicar for
us!&rsquo;&nbsp; He said, &lsquo;These people seem to know you
well.&rsquo;</p>
<p><i>Entre nous</i>, at the door I met my love, and after a good
cry (I don&rsquo;t know which was the greatest fool!) set to
work.&nbsp; The poor fellow was glad to see me, and never shall I
forget the scene, his poor wife holding his head, and the great
<!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
59</span>men weeping, for they all wept!&nbsp; He then received
the Sacrament, added some codocils to his will, and seemed
perfectly resigned.&nbsp; But his agonies were dreadful!&nbsp;
Ransome says they must have been so.&nbsp; He expired at
nine.&nbsp; We never left him till he breathed his last.&nbsp;
Poor woman!&nbsp; How she lamented his loss; yet her struggles to
bear with fortitude are wonderful.&nbsp; I wish you could have
heard him exclaim, after my petition &lsquo;Forgive us our
trespasses as we forgive . . . &rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;I have not
the smallest ill-will to any one person in the whole
world.&rsquo;&nbsp; They stay here until Saturday, when they
begin the sad journey to convey him to Sussex.&nbsp; They wanted
to bury him at Liverpool, but she refused.&nbsp; I forgot to tell
you that he told Lawrence before starting that he <i>wished he
were safe back</i>.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Huskisson was not buried at Chichester, for at last Mrs.
Huskisson consented to the popular wish that his body might have
a public funeral at Liverpool, where a statue of him by Gibson
now stands in the cemetery.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ELEVATED SIGHT-SEERS WISHING TO DESCEND.</h2>
<p>Sir J. A. Picton, in his <i>Memorials of Liverpool</i>,
relates an amusing incident connected with the opening of the
railway at that town.&nbsp; &ldquo;On the opening of the
railway,&rdquo; he remarks, &ldquo;of course, every point and
&lsquo;coin of vantage&rsquo; from whence the procession could be
best seen was eagerly availed of.&nbsp; A tolerably high chimney
had recently been built upon the railway ground, affording a
sufficient platform on the scaffolding at the top for the
accommodation of two or three persons.&nbsp; Two gentlemen
connected with the engineer&rsquo;s department took advantage of
this crowning eminence to obtain a really &lsquo;bird&rsquo;s eye
view&rsquo; of the whole proceedings.&nbsp; They were wound up by
the tackle used in hoisting the bricks, and enjoyed the
perspective from their airy height to their hearts&rsquo;
content.&nbsp; When all was over they, of course, wished to
descend, and gave the signal to be let down again, but alas!
there was no response.&nbsp; The man in charge, excited by the
events of the day, confused by the sorrowful news by which it was
closed, and, it may be, oblivious from other causes, had utterly
forgotten his engagement and gone home.&nbsp; Here was a
prospect!&nbsp; The shades of evening were gathering, the
multitudes departing, <!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 60</span>and every probability of being
obliged to act the part of St. Simeon of Stylites very
involuntarily.&nbsp; Despair added force and strength to their
lungs, and at length&mdash;their condition and difficulty having
attracted attention&mdash;they were relieved from their
unpleasant predicament.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE DUKE&rsquo;S CARRIAGE.</h2>
<p>A correspondent of the <i>Athen&aelig;um</i>, in 1830,
speaking of the carriage prepared for the Duke of Wellington at
the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, remarks:
&ldquo;It rather resembled an eastern pavilion than anything our
northern idea considers a carriage.&nbsp; The floor is 32 feet
long by 8 wide, gilt pillars support a crimson canopy 24 feet
long, and it might for magnitude be likened to the car of
Juggernaut; yet this huge machine, with the preceding steam
engine, moved along at its own fiery will even more swimmingly, a
&lsquo;thing of heart and mind,&rsquo; than a ship on the
ocean.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>LORD BROUGHAM&rsquo;S SPEECH.</h2>
<p>At a dinner given at Liverpool in celebration of the opening
of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, Lord Brougham thus
discourses upon the memorable event and the death of Mr.
Huskisson:&mdash;&ldquo;When I saw the difficulties of space, as
it were, overcome; when I beheld a kind of miracle exhibited
before my astonished eyes; when I saw the rocks excavated and the
gigantic power of man penetrating through miles of the solid
mass, and gaining a great, a lasting, an almost perennial
conquest over the powers of nature by his skill and industry;
when I contemplated all this, was it possible for me to avoid the
reflections which crowded into my mind, not in praise of
man&rsquo;s great success, not in admiration of the genius and
perseverance he had displayed, or even of the courage he had
shown in setting himself against the obstacles that matter
afforded to his course&mdash;no! but the melancholy reflection
that these prodigious efforts of the human race, so fruitful of
praise but so much more fruitful of lasting blessing to mankind,
have forced a tear from my eye by that unhappy casualty which
deprived me of a friend and you of a representative!&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
61</span>AN EARLY RIDE ON THE LIVERPOOL AND MANCHESTER
RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>No account of its first beginnings would, however, be complete
for our time, which did not also give an idea of the impressions
produced on one travelling over it before yet the novelty of the
thing had quite worn away.&nbsp; It was a long time,
comparatively, after September, 1830, before the men who had made
a trip over the railroad ceased to be objects of deep
curiosity.&nbsp; Here is the account of his experience by one of
these far-travelled men, with all its freshness still lingering
about it:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Although the whole passage between Liverpool and
Manchester is a series of enchantments, surpassing any in the
Arabian Nights, because they are realities, not fictions, yet
there are epochs in the transit which are peculiarly
exciting.&nbsp; These are the startings, the ascents, the
descents, the tunnels, the Chat Moss, the meetings.&nbsp; At the
instant of starting, or rather before, the automaton belches
forth an explosion of steam, and seems for a second or two
quiescent.&nbsp; But quickly the explosions are reiterated, with
shorter and shorter intervals, till they become too rapid to be
counted, though still distinct.&nbsp; These belchings or
explosions more nearly resemble the pantings of a lion or tiger,
than any sound that has ever vibrated on my ear.&nbsp; During the
ascent they become slower and slower, till the automaton actually
labours like an animal out of breath, from the tremendous efforts
to gain the highest point of elevation.&nbsp; The progression is
proportionate; and before the said point is gained, the train is
not moving faster than a horse can pace.&nbsp; With the slow
motion of the mighty and animated machine, the breathing becomes
more laborious, the growl more distinct, till at length the
animal appears exhausted and groans like the tiger, when
overpowered in combat by the buffalo.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The moment that the height is reached and the descent
commences, the pantings rapidly increase; the engine with its
train starts off with augmenting velocity; and in a few seconds
it is flying down the declivity like lightning, and with a
uniform growl or roar, like a continuous discharge of distant
artillery.</p>
<p>&ldquo;At this period, the whole train is going at the rate of
thirty-five or forty miles an hour!&nbsp; I was on the outside,
<!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
62</span>and in front of the first carriage, just over the
engine.&nbsp; The scene was magnificent, I had almost said
terrific.&nbsp; Although it was a dead calm the wind appeared to
be blowing a hurricane, such was the velocity with which we
darted through the air.&nbsp; Yet all was steady; and there was
something in the precision of the machinery that inspired a
degree of confidence over fear&mdash;of safety over danger.&nbsp;
A man may travel from the Pole to the Equator, from the Straits
of Malacca to the Isthmus of Darien, and he will see nothing so
astonishing as this.&nbsp; The pangs of Etna and Vesuvius excite
feelings of horror as well as of terror; the convulsion of the
elements during a thunderstorm carries with it nothing but pride,
much less of pleasure, to counteract the awe inspired by the
fearful workings of perturbed nature; but the scene which is here
presented, and which I cannot adequately describe, engenders a
proud consciousness of superiority in human ingenuity, more
intense and convincing than any effort or product of the poet,
the painter, the philosopher, or the divine.&nbsp; The
projections or transits of the train through the tunnels or
arches are very electrifying.&nbsp; The deafening peal of
thunder, the sudden immersion in gloom, and the clash of
reverberated sounds in confined space combine to produce a
momentary shudder or idea of destruction&mdash;a thrill of
annihilation, which is instantly dispelled on emerging into the
cheerful light.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The meetings or crossings of the steam trains flying in
opposite directions are scarcely less agitating to the nerves
than their transits through the tunnels.&nbsp; The velocity of
their course, the propinquity or apparent identity of the iron
orbits along which these meteors move, call forth the involuntary
but fearful thought of a possible collision, with all its
horrible consequences.&nbsp; The period of suspense, however,
though exquisitely painful, is but momentary; and in a few
seconds the object of terror is far out of sight behind.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nor is the rapid passage across Chat Moss unworthy of
notice.&nbsp; The ingenuity with which two narrow rods of iron
are made to bear whole trains of wagons, laden with many hundred
tons of commerce, and bounding across a wide, semi-fluid morass,
previously impassable by man or beast, is beyond all praise and
deserving of eternal record.&nbsp; <!-- page 63--><a
name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>Only conceive
a slender bridge of two minute iron rails, several miles in
length, level as Waterloo, elastic as whalebone, yet firm as
adamant!&nbsp; Along this splendid triumph of human
genius&mdash;this veritable <i>via triumphalis</i>&mdash;the
train of carriages bounds with the velocity of the stricken deer;
the vibrations of the resilient moss causing the ponderous engine
and its enormous suite to glide along the surface of an extensive
quagmire as safely as a practiced skater skims the icy mirror of
a frozen lake.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The first class or train is the most fashionable, but
the second or third are the most amusing.&nbsp; I travelled one
day from Liverpool to Manchester in the lumber train.&nbsp; Many
of the carriages were occupied by the swinish multitude, and
others by a multitude of swine.&nbsp; These last were naturally
vociferous if not eloquent.&nbsp; It is evident that the other
passengers would have been considerably annoyed by the orators of
this last group, had there not been stationed in each carriage an
officer somewhat analogous to the Usher of the Black Rod, but
whose designation on the railroad I found to be
&lsquo;Comptroller of the Gammon.&rsquo;&nbsp; No sooner did one
of the long-faced gentlemen raise his note too high, or wag his
jaw too long, than the &lsquo;Comptroller of the Gammon&rsquo;
gave him a whack over the snout with the butt end of his
shillelagh; a snubber which never failed to stop his oratory for
the remainder of the journey.&rdquo;</p>
<p>To one familiar with the history of railroad legislation the
last paragraph is peculiarly significant.&nbsp; For years after
the railroad system was inaugurated, and until legislation was
invoked to compel something better, the companies persisted in
carrying passengers of the third class in uncovered carriages,
exposed to all weather, and with no more decencies or comforts
than were accorded to swine.</p>
<h2>EARLY RAILWAY TRAVELLING.</h2>
<p>A writer in <i>Notes and Queries</i> remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;On
looking over a diary kept by my father during two journeys
northward in 1830&ndash;31, I thought the readers might be amused
with his account of what he saw of railway travelling, then in
its infancy:&mdash;</p>
<p><!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
64</span>&ldquo;Monday, Oct. 11, 1830, Darlington.&mdash;Walked
to the railroad, which comes within half-a-mile of the
town.&nbsp; Saw a steam engine drawing about twenty-five wagons,
each containing about two tons and a half of coals.&nbsp; A
single horse draws four such wagons.&nbsp; I went to Stockton at
four o&rsquo;clock by coach on the railroad; one horse draws
about twenty-four passengers.&nbsp; I did not like it at all, for
the road is very ugly in appearance, and, being only one line
with occasional turns for passing, we were sometimes obliged to
wait, and at other times to be drawn back, so that we were full
two hours going eleven miles, and they are often more than three
hours.&nbsp; There is no other conveyance, as the cheapness has
driven the stage-coaches off the road.&nbsp; I only paid 1s. for
eleven miles.&nbsp; The motion was very unpleasant&mdash;a
continual jolting and disagreeable noise.&rdquo;</p>
<p>On Sept. 1, 1831, he remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;The railroad to
Stockton has been improved since I was here, as they are now
laying down a second line.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wednesday, Oct. 27, 1830.&mdash;Left Manchester at ten
o&rsquo;clock by the railroad for Liverpool.&nbsp; We enter upon
it by a staircase through the office from the street at present,
but there will, I suppose, be an open entrance, by-and-bye; they
have built extensive warehouses adjoining.&nbsp; We were two
hours and a half going to Liverpool (about thirty-two miles), and
I must think the advantages have been a good deal overrated, for,
prejudice apart, I think most people will allow that expedition
is the only real advantage gained; the road itself is ugly,
though curious and wonderful as a work of art.&nbsp; Near
Liverpool it is cut very deeply through rock, and there is a long
tunnel which leads into a yard where omnibusses wait to convey
passengers to the inns.&nbsp; The tunnel is too low for the
engines at present in use, and the carriages are drawn through it
by donkeys.&nbsp; The engines are calculated to draw fifty tons.
. .&nbsp; I cannot say that I at all liked it; the speed was too
great to be pleasant, and makes you rather giddy, and certainly
it is not smoother and easier than a good turnpike road.&nbsp;
When the carriages stop or go on, a very violent jolting takes
place, from the ends of the carriages jostling together.&nbsp; I
have heard many say they prefer a horse-coach, but the majority
are in favour of the railroad, and they will, no doubt, knock up
the coaches.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
65</span>&ldquo;Monday, Sept. 12, 1831.&mdash;Left Manchester by
coach at ten o&rsquo;clock, and arrived in Liverpool at half-past
two. . .&nbsp; The railroad is not supposed to answer vastly
well, but they are making a branch to Warrington, which will hurt
the Sankey Navigation, and throw 1,500 men out of employment;
these people are said to be loud in their execrations of it, and
to threaten revenge.&nbsp; It is certain the proprietors do not
all feel easy about it, as one living at Warrington has
determined never to go by it, and was coming to Liverpool by our
coach if there had been room.&nbsp; He would gladly sell his
shares.&nbsp; A dividend of 4 per cent. had been paid for six
months, but money had been borrowed. . . .&nbsp; Charge for
tonnage of goods, 10s. for thirty-two miles, which appears very
dear to me.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CRABB ROBINSON&rsquo;S FIRST RAILWAY JOURNEY.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;June 9th, 1833.&mdash;(Liverpool).&nbsp; At twelve
o&rsquo;clock I got upon an omnibus, and was driven up a steep
hill to the place where the steam carriages start.&nbsp; We
travelled in the second class of carriages.&nbsp; There were five
carriages linked together, in each of which were placed open
seats for the travellers, four or five facing each other; but not
all were full; and, besides, there was a close carriage, and also
a machine for luggage.&nbsp; The fare was four shillings for the
thirty-one miles.&nbsp; Everything went on so rapidly that I had
scarcely the power of observation.&nbsp; The road begins at an
excavation through a rock, and is to a certain extent insulated
from the adjacent country.&nbsp; It is occasionally placed on
bridges, and frequently intersected by ordinary roads.&nbsp; Not
quite a perfect level is preserved.&nbsp; On setting off there is
a slight jolt, arising from the chain catching each carriage,
but, once in motion, we proceeded as smoothly as possible.&nbsp;
For a minute or two the pace is gentle, and is constantly
varying.&nbsp; The machine produces little smoke or steam.&nbsp;
First in order is the tall chimney; then the boiler, a
barrel-like vessel; then an oblong reservoir of water; then a
vehicle for coals; and then comes, of a length infinitely
extendible, the train of carriages.&nbsp; If all the seats had
been filled, our train would have carried about 150 passengers;
but a gentleman assured me at Chester that he went with a
thousand persons to Newton fair.&nbsp; There must have <!-- page
66--><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>been
two engines then.&nbsp; I have heard since that two thousand
persons or more went to and from the fair that day.&nbsp; But two
thousand only, at three shillings each way, would have produced
&pound;600!&nbsp; But, after all, the expense is so great that it
is considered uncertain whether the establishment will ultimately
remunerate the proprietors.&nbsp; Yet I have heard that it
already yields the shareholders a dividend of nine per
cent.&nbsp; And Bills have passed for making railroads between
London and Birmingham, and Birmingham and Liverpool.&nbsp; What a
change it will produce in the intercourse!&nbsp; One conveyance
will take between 100 and 200 passengers, and the journey will be
made in a forenoon!&nbsp; Of the rapidity of the journey I had
better experience on my return; but I may say now that, stoppages
included, it may certainly be made at the rate of twenty miles an
hour.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I should have observed before that the most remarkable
movements of the journey are those in which trains pass one
another.&nbsp; The rapidity is such that there is no recognizing
the features of a traveller.&nbsp; On several occasions, the
noise of the passing engine was like the whizzing of a
rocket.&nbsp; Guards are stationed in the road, holding flags, to
give notice to the drivers when to stop.&nbsp; Near Newton I
noticed an inscription recording the memorable death of
Huskisson.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Crabb Robinson&rsquo;s
Diary</i>.</p>
<h2>EARLY AMERICAN RAILWAY ENTERPRISE.</h2>
<p>Mr. C. F. Adams, in his work on <i>Railroads</i>: <i>Their
Origin and Problems</i>, remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;There is, indeed,
some reason for believing that the South Carolina Railroad was
the first ever constructed in any country with a definite plan of
operating it exclusively by locomotive steam power.&nbsp; But in
America there was not&mdash;indeed, from the very circumstances
of the case, there could not have been&mdash;any such dramatic
occasions and surprises as those witnessed at Liverpool in 1829
and 1830.&nbsp; Nevertheless, the people of Charleston were
pressing close on the heels of those at Liverpool, for on the
15th of January, 1831&mdash;exactly four months after the formal
opening of the Manchester and Liverpool road&mdash;the first
anniversary of the South Carolina <!-- page 67--><a
name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>Railroad was
celebrated with due honor.&nbsp; A queer-looking machine, the
outline of which was sufficient in itself to prove that the
inventor owed nothing to Stephenson, had been constructed at the
West Point Foundry Works in New York during the summer of
1830&mdash;a first attempt to supply that locomotive power which
the Board had, with sublime confidence in possibilities,
unanimously voted on the 14th of the preceding January should
alone be used on the road.&nbsp; The name of <i>Best Friend</i>
was given to this very simple product of native genius.&nbsp; The
idea of the multitubular boiler had not yet suggested itself in
America.&nbsp; The <i>Best Friend</i>, therefore, was supplied
with a common vertical boiler, &lsquo;in form of an old-fashioned
porter-bottle, the furnace at the bottom surrounded with water,
and all filled inside of what we call teats running out from the
sides and tops.&rsquo;&nbsp; By means of the projections or
&lsquo;teats&rsquo; a portion at least of the necessary heating
surface was provided.&nbsp; The cylinder was at the front of the
platform, the rear end of which was occupied by the boiler, and
it was fed by means of a connecting pipe.&nbsp; Thanks to the
indefatigable researches of an enthusiast on railroad
construction, we have an account of the performances of this and
all the other pioneers among American locomotives, and the
pictures with which Mr. W. H. Brown has enriched his book would
alone render it both curious and valuable.&nbsp; Prior to the
stockholders&rsquo; anniversary of January 15th, 1831, it seems
that the <i>Best Friend</i> had made several trips &lsquo;running
at the rate of sixteen to twenty-one miles an hour, with forty or
fifty passengers in some four or five cars, and without the cars,
thirty to thirty-five miles an hour.&rsquo;&nbsp; The
stockholders&rsquo; day was, however, a special occasion, and the
papers of the following Monday, for it happened on a Saturday,
gave the following account of it:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Notice having been previously given, inviting the
stockholders, about one hundred and fifty assembled in the course
of the morning at the company&rsquo;s buildings in Line Street,
together with a number of invited guests.&nbsp; The weather the
day and night previous had been stormy, and the morning was cold
and cloudy.&nbsp; Anticipating a postponement of the ceremonies,
the locomotive engine had been taken to pieces for cleaning, but
upon the assembling of <!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 68</span>the company she was put in order, the
cylinders new packed and at the word the apparatus was ready for
movement.&nbsp; The first trip was performed with two pleasure
cars attached, and a small carriage, fitted for the occasion,
upon which was a detachment of United States troops and a
field-piece which had been politely granted by Major Belton for
the occasion. . .&nbsp; The number of passengers brought down,
which was performed in two trips, was estimated at upward of two
hundred.&nbsp; A band of music enlivened the scene, and great
hilarity and good humour prevailed throughout the day.&rdquo;</p>
<p>It was not long, however, before the <i>Best Friend</i> came
to serious grief.&nbsp; Naturally, and even necessarily, inasmuch
as it was a South Carolina institution, it was provided with a
negro fireman.&nbsp; It so happened that this functionary while
in the discharge of his duties was much annoyed by the escape of
steam from the safety valve, and, not having made himself
complete master of the principles underlying the use of steam as
a source of power, he took advantage of a temporary absence of
the engineer in charge to effect a radical remedy of this cause
of annoyance.&nbsp; He not only fastened down the valve lever,
but further made the thing perfectly sure by sitting upon
it.&nbsp; The consequences were hardly less disastrous to the
<i>Best Friend</i> than to the chattel fireman.&nbsp; Neither
were of much further practical use.&nbsp; Before this mishap
chanced, however in June, 1831, a second locomotive, called the
<i>West Point</i>, had arrived in Charleston, and this last was
constructed on the principle of Stephenson&rsquo;s
<i>Rocket</i>.&nbsp; In its general aspect, indeed, it greatly
resembled that already famous prototype.&nbsp; There is a very
characteristic and suggestive cut representing a trial trip made
with this locomotive on March 5th, 1831.&nbsp; The nerves of the
Charleston people had been a good deal disturbed and their
confidence in steam as a safe motor shaken by the disaster which
had befallen the <i>Best Friend</i>.&nbsp; Mindful of this fact,
and very properly solicitous for the safety of their guests, the
directors now had recourse to a very simple and ingenious
expedient.&nbsp; They put what they called a &lsquo;barrier
car&rsquo; between the locomotive and passenger coaches of the
train.&nbsp; This barrier car consisted of a platform on wheels
upon which were piled six bales of <!-- page 69--><a
name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>cotton.&nbsp;
A fortification was thus provided between the passengers and any
future negro sitting on the safety valve.&nbsp; We are also
assured that &lsquo;the safety valve being out of the reach of
any person but the engineer, will contribute to the prevention of
accidents in the future, such as befel the <i>Best
Friend</i>.&rsquo;&nbsp; Judging by the cut which represents the
train, this occasion must have been even more marked for its
&lsquo;hilarity&rsquo; than the earlier one which has already
been described.&nbsp; Besides the locomotive and the barrier car
there are four passenger coaches.&nbsp; In the first of these was
a negro band, in general appearance very closely resembling the
minstrels of a later day, the members of which are energetically
performing on musical instruments of various familiar
descriptions.&nbsp; Then follow three cars full of the saddest
looking white passengers, who were present as we were informed to
the number of one hundred and seventeen.&nbsp; The excursion was,
however, highly successful, and two-and-a-quarter miles of road
were passed over in the short space of eight minutes&mdash;about
the speed at which a good horse would trot for the same
distance.</p>
<p>This was in March, 1831.&nbsp; About six months before,
however, there had actually been a trial of speed between a horse
and one of the pioneer locomotives, which had not resulted in
favour of the locomotive.&nbsp; It took place on the present
Baltimore and Ohio road upon the 28th of August, 1830.&nbsp; The
engine in this case was contrived by no other than Mr. Peter
Cooper.&nbsp; And it affords a striking illustration of how
recent those events which now seem so remote really were, that
here is a man until very recently living, and amongst the most
familiar to the eyes of the present generation, who was a
contemporary of Stephenson, and himself invented a locomotive
during the Rainhill year, being then nearly forty years of
age.&nbsp; The Cooper engine, however, was scarcely more than a
working model.&nbsp; Its active-minded inventor hardly seems to
have aimed at anything more than a demonstration of
possibilities.&nbsp; The whole thing weighed only a ton, and was
of one horse power; in fact it was not larger than those handcars
now in common use with railroad section-men.&nbsp; The boiler,
about the size of a modern kitchen boiler, stood upright and was
fitted above the furnace&mdash;which occupied the lower
section&mdash;with <!-- page 70--><a name="page70"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 70</span>vertical tubes.&nbsp; The cylinder
was but three-and-a-half inches in diameter, and the wheels were
moved by gearing.&nbsp; In order to secure the requisite pressure
of steam in so small a boiler, a sort of bellows was provided
which was kept in action by means of a drum attached to one of
the car-wheels over which passed a cord which worked a pulley,
which in turn worked the bellows.&nbsp; Thus, of
Stephenson&rsquo;s two great devices, without either of which his
success at Rainhill would have been impossible&mdash;the waste
steam blast and the multitubular boiler&mdash;Peter Cooper had
only got hold of the last.&nbsp; He owed his defeat in the race
between his engine and a horse to the fact that he had not got
hold of the first.&nbsp; It happened in this wise.&nbsp; Several
experimental trips had been made with the little engine on the
Baltimore and Ohio road, the first sections of which had recently
been completed and were then operated upon by means of
horses.&nbsp; The success of these trips was such that at last,
just seventeen days before the formal opening of the Manchester
and Liverpool road on the other side of the Atlantic, a small
open car was attached to the engine&mdash;the name of which, by
the way, was <i>Tom Thumb</i>&mdash;and upon this a party of
directors and their friends were carried from Baltimore to
Ellicott&rsquo;s Mills and back, a distance of some twenty-six
miles.</p>
<p>The trip out was made in an hour, and was very
successful.&nbsp; The return was less so, and for the following
reason:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The great stage proprietors of the day were Stockton
and Stokes; and on that occasion a gallant grey, of great beauty
and power, was driven by them from town, attached to another car
on the second track&mdash;for the company had begun by making two
tracks to the Mills&mdash;and met the engine at the Relay House
on its way back.&nbsp; From this point it was determined to have
a race home, and the start being even, away went horse and
engine, the snort of the one and the puff of the other keeping
tune and time.</p>
<p>&ldquo;At first the grey had the best of it, for his
<i>steam</i> would be applied to the greatest advantage on the
instant, while the engine had to wait until the rotation of the
wheels set the blower to work.&nbsp; The horse was perhaps a
quarter of a mile ahead when the safety valve of the engine
lifted, and the thin blue vapour issuing from it showed an excess
of <!-- page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
71</span>steam.&nbsp; The blower whistled, the steam blew off in
vapoury clouds, the pace increased, the passengers shouted, the
engine gained on the horse, soon it lapped him&mdash;the silk was
plied&mdash;the race was neck and neck, nose and nose&mdash;then
the engine passed the horse, and a great hurrah hailed the
victory.&nbsp; But it was not repeated, for, just at this time,
when the grey&rsquo;s master was about giving up, the band which
draws the pulley which moved the blower slipped from the drum,
the safety valve ceased to scream, and the engine&mdash;for want
of breath&mdash;began to wheeze and pant.&nbsp; In vain Mr.
Cooper, who was his own engineer and fireman, lacerated his hands
in attempting to replace the band upon the wheel; the horse
gained upon the machine and passed it, and although the band was
presently replaced, and the steam again did its best, the horse
was too far ahead to be overtaken, and came in the winner of the
race.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ENGLISH AND AMERICAN OPPOSITION.</h2>
<p>What wonder that such an innovation as railways was
strenuously opposed, threatening, as it did, the coaching
interest, and the posting interest, the canal interest, and the
sporting interest, and private interests of every variety.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Gentlemen, as an individual,&rdquo; said a sporting M.P.
for Cheltenham, &ldquo;I hate your railways; I detest them
altogether; I wish the concoctors of the Cheltenham and Oxford,
and the concoctors of every other scheme, including the
solicitors and engineers, were at rest in Paradise.&nbsp;
Gentlemen, I detest railroads; nothing is more distasteful to me
than to hear the echo of our hills reverberating with the noise
of hissing railroad engines, running through the heart of our
hunting country, and destroying that noble sport to which I have
been accustomed from my childhood.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at
Tewkesbury, one speaker contended that &ldquo;any railway would
be injurious;&rdquo; compared engines to &ldquo;war-horses and
fiery meteors;&rdquo; and affirmed that &ldquo;the evils
contained in Pandora&rsquo;s box were but trifles compared with
those that would be consequent on railways.&rdquo;&nbsp; Even in
go-aheadative America, some steady jog trotting opponents raised
their voices against the nascent system; one of whom (a canal
stockholder, by the way) chronicled the following objective
arguments.&nbsp; &ldquo;He saw what would be the effect of it;
that <!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
72</span>it would set the whole world a-gadding.&nbsp; Twenty
miles an hour, sir!&nbsp; Why you will not be able to keep an
apprentice-boy at his work; every Saturday evening he must take a
trip to Ohio, to spend the Sabbath with his sweetheart.&nbsp;
Grave plodding citizens will be flying about like comets.&nbsp;
All local attachments must be at an end.&nbsp; It will encourage
flightiness of intellect.&nbsp; Veracious people will turn into
the most immeasurable liars; all their conceptions will be
exaggerated by their magnificent notions of distance.&nbsp;
&lsquo;Only a hundred miles off!&nbsp; Tut, nonsense, I&rsquo;ll
step across, madam, and bring your fan!&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Pray,
sir, will you dine with me to-day at my little box at
Alleghany?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Why, indeed, I don&rsquo;t
know.&nbsp; I shall be in town until twelve.&nbsp; Well, I shall
be there; but you must let me off in time for the
theatre.&rsquo;&nbsp; And then, sir, there will be barrels of
pork, and cargoes of flour, and chaldrons of coals, and even lead
and whiskey, and such-like sober things that have always been
used to sober travelling, whisking away like a set of
sky-rockets.&nbsp; It will upset all the gravity of the
nation.&nbsp; If two gentlemen have an affair of honour, they
have only to steal off to the Rocky Mountains, and there no
jurisdiction can touch them.&nbsp; And then, sir, think of flying
for debt!&nbsp; A set of bailiffs, mounted on bomb-shells, would
not overtake an absconded debtor, only give him a fair
start.&nbsp; Upon the whole, sir, it is a pestilential,
topsy-turvy, harum-scarum whirligig.&nbsp; Give me the old,
solemn, straightforward, regular Dutch canal&mdash;three miles an
hour for expresses, and two for ordinary journeys, with a yoke of
oxen for a heavy load!&nbsp; I go for beasts of burthen: it is
more primitive and scriptural, and suits a moral and religious
people better.&nbsp; None of your hop-skip-and-jump whimsies for
me.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Sharpe&rsquo;s London
Journal</i>.</p>
<h2>AN UNPLEASANT TRIAL TRIP.</h2>
<p>Mr. O. F. Adams remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;A famous trial trip with
a new locomotive engine was that made on the 9th of August, 1831,
on the new line from Albany to Schenectady over the Mohawk Valley
road.&nbsp; The train was made up of a locomotive, the <i>De Witt
Clinton</i>, its tender, and five or six passenger
coaches&mdash;which were, indeed, nothing but the bodies of stage
coaches placed upon trucks.&nbsp; The first two <!-- page 73--><a
name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>of these
coaches were set aside for distinguished visitors; the others
were surmounted with seats of plank to accommodate as many as
possible of the great throng of persons who were anxious to
participate in the trip.&nbsp; Inside and out the coaches were
crowded; every seat was full.&nbsp; What followed the starting of
the train has thus been described by one who took part in the
affair:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;The trucks were coupled together with chains or
chain-links, leaving from two to three feet slack, and when the
locomotive started it took up the slack by jerks, with sufficient
force to jerk the passengers who sat on seats across the tops of
the coaches, out from under their hats, and in stopping they came
together with such force as to send them flying from their
seats.</p>
<p>&ldquo;They used dry pitch-pine for fuel, and, there being no
smoke or spark-catcher to the chimney or smoke stack, a volume of
black smoke, strongly impregnated with sparks, coal, and cinders,
came pouring back the whole length of the train.&nbsp; Each of
the outside passengers who had an umbrella raised it as a
protection against the smoke and fire.&nbsp; They were found to
be but a momentary protection, for I think in the first mile the
last one went overboard, all having their covers burnt off from
the frames, when a general m&ecirc;l&eacute;e took place among
the deck passengers, each whipping his neighbour to put out the
fire.&nbsp; They presented a very motley appearance on arriving
at the first station.&rdquo;&nbsp; Here, &ldquo;a short stop was
made, and a successful experiment tried to remedy the unpleasant
jerks.&nbsp; A plan was soon hit upon and put into
execution.&nbsp; The three links in the couplings of the cars
were stretched to their utmost tension, a rail from a fence in
the neighbourhood was placed between each pair of cars and made
fast by means of the packing yarn from the cylinders.&nbsp; This
arrangement improved the order of things, and it was found to
answer the purpose when the signal was again given and the engine
started.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>PROGNOSTICATIONS OF FAILURE.</h2>
<p>In the year 1831, the writer of a pamphlet, who styled himself
<i>Investigator</i>, essayed the task of &ldquo;proving by facts
and arguments&rdquo; that a railway between London and <!-- page
74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
74</span>Birmingham would be a &ldquo;burden upon the trade of
the country and would never pay.&rdquo;&nbsp; The difficulties
and dangers of the enterprise he thus sets forth:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The causes of greater danger on the railway are
several.&nbsp; A velocity of fifteen miles an hour is in itself a
great source of danger, as the smallest obstacle might produce
the most serious consequences.&nbsp; If, at that rate, the engine
or any forward part of the train should suddenly stop, the whole
would be cracked by the collision like nutshells.&nbsp; At all
turnings there is a danger that the latter part of the train may
swing off the rails; and, if that takes place, the most serious
consequences must ensue before the whole train can be
stopped.&nbsp; The line, too, upon which the train must be
steered admits of little lateral deviation, while a stage coach
has a choice of the whole roadway.&nbsp; Independently of the
velocity, which in coaches is the chief source of danger, there
are many perils on the railway, the rails stand up like so many
thick knives, and any one alighting on them would have but a
slight chance of his life . . .&nbsp; Another consideration which
would deter travellers, more especially invalids, ladies, and
children, from making use of the railways, would be want of
accommodation along the line, unless the directors of the railway
choose to build inns as commodious as those on the present line
of road.&nbsp; But those inns the directors would have in part to
support also, because they would be out of the way of any
business except that arising from the railway, and that would be
so trifling and so accidental that the landlords could not afford
to keep either a cellar or a larder.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Commercial travellers, who stop and do business in all
the towns and by so doing render commerce much cheaper than it
otherwise would be, and who give that constant support to the
houses of entertainment which makes them able to supply the
occasional traveller well and at a cheap rate, would, as a matter
of course, never by any chance go by the railroad; and the
occasional traveller, who went the same route for pleasure, would
go by the coach road also, because of the cheerful company and
comfortable dinner.&nbsp; Not one of the nobility, the gentry, or
those who travel in their own carriages, would by any chance go
by the railway.&nbsp; A nobleman would really not like to be
drawn at the <!-- page 75--><a name="page75"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 75</span>tail of a train of wagons, in which
some hundreds of bars of iron were jingling with a noise that
would drown all the bells of the district, and in the momentary
apprehension of having his vehicle broke to pieces, and himself
killed or crippled by the collision of those thirty-ton
masses.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SIR ASTLEY COOPER&rsquo;S OPPOSITION TO THE LONDON AND
BIRMINGHAM RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>Robert Stephenson, while engaged in the survey of the above
line, encountered much opposition from landed proprietors.&nbsp;
Many years after its completion, when recalling the past, he
said:&mdash;&ldquo;I remember that we called one day on Sir
Astley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, in the hope of overcoming his
aversion to the railway.&nbsp; He was one of our most inveterate
and influential opponents.&nbsp; His country house at
Berkhampstead was situated near the intended line, which passed
through part of his property.&nbsp; We found a courtly,
fine-looking old gentleman, of very stately manners, who received
us kindly and heard all we had to say in favour of the
project.&nbsp; But he was quite inflexible in his opposition to
it.&nbsp; No deviation or improvement that we could suggest had
any effect in conciliating him.&nbsp; He was opposed to railways
generally, and to this in particular.&nbsp; &lsquo;Your
scheme,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;is preposterous in the
extreme.&nbsp; It is of so extravagant a character as to be
positively absurd.&nbsp; Then look at the recklessness of your
proceedings!&nbsp; You are proposing to cut up our estates in all
directions for the purpose of making an unnecessary road.&nbsp;
Do you think, for one moment, of the destruction of property
involved by it?&nbsp; Why, gentlemen, if this sort of thing be
permitted to go on you will in a very few years <i>destroy the
nobility</i>!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>OPPOSITION TO MAKING SURVEYS.</h2>
<p>A great deal of opposition was encountered in making the
surveys for the London and Birmingham Railway, and although, in
every case, as little damage was done as possible, simply because
it was the interest of those concerned to conciliate all parties
along the line, yet, in several instances, the opposition was of
a most violent nature; in one case no skill or ingenuity could
evade the watchfulness <!-- page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 76</span>and determination of the lords of the
soil, and the survey was at last accomplished at night by means
of dark lanterns.</p>
<p>On another occasion, when Mr. Gooch was taking levels through
some of the large tracts of grazing land, a few miles from
London, two brothers, occupying the land came to him in a great
rage, and insisted on his leaving their property
immediately.&nbsp; He contrived to learn from them that the
adjoining field was not theirs and he therefore remonstrated but
very slightly with them, and then walked quietly through the gap
in the hedge into the next field, and planted his level on the
highest ground he could find&mdash;his assistant remaining at the
last level station, distant about a hundred and sixty yards,
apparently quite unconscious of what had taken place, although
one of the brothers was moving very quickly towards him, for the
purpose of sending him off.&nbsp; Now, if the assistant had moved
his staff before Mr. Gooch had got his sight at it through the
telescope of his level, all his previous work would have been
completely lost, and the survey must have been completed in
whatever manner it could have been done&mdash;the great object,
however, was to prevent this serious inconvenience.&nbsp; The
moment Mr. Gooch commenced looking through his telescope at the
staff held by his assistant, the grazier nearest him, spreading
out the tails of his coat, tried to place himself between the
staff and the telescope, in order to intercept all vision, and at
the same time commenced shouting violently to his comrade,
desiring him to make haste and knock down the staff.&nbsp;
Fortunately for Mr. Gooch, although nature had made this amiable
being&rsquo;s ears longer than usual, yet they performed their
office very badly, and as he could not see distinctly what Mr.
Gooch was about&mdash;the hedge being between them&mdash;he very
simply asked the man at the staff what his (the enquirer&rsquo;s)
brother said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; replied the man, &ldquo;he
is calling to you to stop that horse there which is galloping out
of the fold yard.&rdquo;&nbsp; Away went Clodpole, as fast as he
could run, to restrain the unruly energies of Smolensko the
Ninth, or whatever other name the unlucky quadruped might be
called, and Mr. Gooch in the meanwhile quietly took the sight
required&mdash;he having, with great judgment, planted his level
on ground sufficiently high to enable him to see over the head of
any grazier in <!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 77</span>the land; but his clever assistant,
as soon as he perceived that all was right, had to take to his
heels and make the shortest cut to the high road.</p>
<p>In another instance, a reverend gentleman of the Church of
England made such alarming demonstrations of his opposition that
the extraordinary expedient was resorted to of surveying his
property during the time he was engaged in the pulpit, preaching
to his flock.&nbsp; This was accomplished by having a strong
force of surveyors all in readiness to commence their operations,
by entering the clergyman&rsquo;s grounds on the one side at the
same moment that they saw him fairly off them on the other, and,
by a well organised and systematic arrangement, each man coming
to a conclusion with his allotted task just as the reverend
gentleman came to a conclusion with his sermon; and before he
left the church to return to his home, the deed was done.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Roscoe&rsquo;s <i>London and
Birmingham Railway</i>.</p>
<h2>SANITARY OBJECTIONS.</h2>
<p>Mr. Smiles, in his <i>Life of George Stephenson</i>,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;Sanitary objections were also urged in
opposition to railways, and many wise doctors strongly inveighed
against tunnels.&nbsp; Sir Anthony Carlisle insisted that
&ldquo;tunnels would expose healthy people to colds, catarrhs,
and consumption.&rdquo;&nbsp; The noise, the darkness, and the
dangers of tunnel travelling were depicted in all their
horrors.&nbsp; Worst of all, however, was &lsquo;the destruction
of the atmospheric air,&rsquo; as Dr. Lardner termed it.&nbsp;
Elaborate calculations were made by that gentleman to prove that
the provision of ventilating shafts would be altogether
insufficient to prevent the dangers arising from the combustion
of coke, producing carbonic acid gas, which in large quantities
was fatal to life.&nbsp; He showed, for instance, that in the
proposed Box tunnel, on the Great Western Railway, the passage of
100 tons would deposit about 3090 lbs. of noxious gases,
incapable of supporting life!&nbsp; Here was an uncomfortable
prospect of suffocation for passengers between London and
Bristol.&nbsp; But steps were adopted to allay these formidable
sources of terror.&nbsp; Solemn documents, in the form of
certificates, were got up and published, signed by several of the
most <!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
78</span>distinguished physicians of the day, attesting the
perfect wholesomeness of tunnels, and the purity of the air in
them.&nbsp; Perhaps they went further than was necessary in
alleging, what certainly subsequent experience has not verified,
that the atmosphere of the tunnel was &lsquo;dry, of an agreeable
temperature, and free from smell.&rsquo;&nbsp; Mr. Stephenson
declared his conviction that a tunnel twenty miles long could be
worked safely and without more danger to life than a railway in
the open air; but, at the same time, he admits that tunnels were
nuisances, which he endeavoured to avoid wherever
practicable.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ELEVATED RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>In the <i>Gentleman&rsquo;s Magazine</i> for June, 1830, it is
stated:&mdash;&ldquo;There are at present exhibiting in Edinburgh
three large models, accompanied with drawings of railways and
their carriages, invented by Mr. Dick, who has a patent.&nbsp;
These railways are of a different nature from those hitherto in
use, inasmuch as they are not laid along the surface of the
ground, but elevated to such a height as, when necessary, to pass
over the tops of houses and trees.&nbsp; The principal supports
are of stone, and, being placed at considerable distances, have
cast-iron pillars between them.&nbsp; The carriages are to be
dragged along with a velocity hitherto unparalleled, by means of
a rope drawn by a steam engine or other prime mover, a series
being placed at intervals along the railway.&nbsp; From the
construction of the railway and carriages the friction is very
small.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>EVIDENCE OF A GENERAL SALESMAN.</h2>
<p>The advantages London derives from railways, in regard to its
supply of good meat, may be gathered from the evidence given by
Mr. George Rowley in 1834, on behalf of the Great Western Railway
Company.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You have been a general salesman of live and dead stock
of all descriptions in Newgate Market 32
years?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What is about the annual amount of your
sales?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I turn over &pound;300,000 in a
year.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
79</span>&ldquo;Would a railway that facilitated the
communication between London and Bristol be an advantage to your
business?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I think it would be a special
advantage to London altogether.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;The facility of having
goods brought in reference to live stock is very important; I
have been in the habit of paying Mr. Bowman, of Bristol,
&pound;1,000 a-week for many weeks; that has been for sending
live hogs to me to be sold, to be slaughtered in London; and I
have, out of that &pound;1,000 a-week as many as 40 or 50 pigs
die on the road, and they have sold for little or nothing.&nbsp;
The exertion of the pigs kills them.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The means of conveying pigs on a railway would be a
great advantage?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, as far as having the
pigs come good to market, without being subject to a distemper
that creates fever, and they die as red as that bag before you,
and when they are killed in good health they die a natural
colour.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Then do I understand you that those who are fortunate
enough to survive the journey are the worse for
it?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, in weight.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;And in quality?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Yes!&nbsp; All meat
killed in the country, and delivered in the London market dead,
in a good state, will make from 6d. to 8d. a stone more than what
is slaughtered in London.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE ANXIOUS HAIR-DRESSER.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Clanwilliam mentioned this evening an incident which
proves the wonderful celerity of the railroads.&nbsp; Mr.
Isidore, the Queen&rsquo;s coiffeur, who receives &pound;2,000 a
year for dressing Her Majesty&rsquo;s hair twice-a-day, had gone
to London in the morning to return to Windsor in time for her
toilet; but on arriving at the station he was just five minutes
too late, and saw the train depart without him.&nbsp; His horror
was great, as he knew that his want of punctuality would deprive
him of his place, as no train would start for the next two
hours.&nbsp; The only resource was to order a special train, for
which he was obliged to pay &pound;18; but the establishment
feeling the importance of his business, ordered extra steam to be
put on, and convoyed the anxious hair-dresser 18 miles in 18
minutes, which extricated him from all his
difficulties.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Raike&rsquo;s Diary from</i> 1831
<i>to</i> 1847.</p>
<h2><!-- page 80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
80</span>SHARP PRACTICE.</h2>
<p>Sir Francis Head, Bart., in his <i>Stokers and Pokers</i>,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;During the construction of the present
London and North Western Railway, a landlady at Hillmorton, near
Rugby, of very sharp practice, which she had imbibed in dealings
for many years with canal boatmen, was constantly remarking aloud
that no navvy should ever &ldquo;do&rdquo; her; and although the
railway was in her immediate neighbourhood, and although the
navvies were her principal customers, she took pleasure on every
opportunity in repeating the invidious remark.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It had, however, one fine morning scarcely left her
large, full-blown, rosy lips, when a fine-looking young fellow,
walking up to her, carrying in both hands a huge stone bottle,
commonly called a &lsquo;grey-neck,&rsquo; briefly asked her for
&lsquo;half a gallon of gin;&rsquo; which was no sooner measured
and poured in than the money was rudely demanded before it could
be taken away.</p>
<p>&ldquo;On the navvy declining to pay the exorbitant price
asked, the landlady, with a face like a peony, angrily told him
he must either pay for the gin or <i>instantly</i> return it.</p>
<p>&ldquo;He silently chose the latter, and accordingly, while
the eyes of his antagonist were wrathfully fixed upon his, he
returned into her measure the half gallon, and then quietly
walked off; but having previously put into his grey-neck half a
gallon of water, each party eventually found themselves in
possession of half a gallon of gin and water; and, however either
may have enjoyed the mixture, it is historically recorded at
Hillmorton that the landlady was never again heard unnecessarily
to boast that no navvy could <i>do</i> her.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A NAVVY&rsquo;S REASON FOR NOT GOING TO CHURCH.</h2>
<p>A navvy at Kilsby, being asked why he did not go to church?
duly answered in geological language&mdash;&ldquo;<i>Why</i>,
<i>Soonday hasn&rsquo;t cropped out here yet</i>!&rdquo;&nbsp; By
which he meant that the clergyman appointed to the new village
had not yet arrived.</p>
<h2><!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
81</span>SNAKES&rsquo; HEADS.</h2>
<p>One of the earliest forms of rails used by the Americans
consisted of a flat bar half-an-inch thick spiked down to
longitudinal timbers.&nbsp; In the process of running the train,
the iron was curved, the spikes loosened, and the ends of the
bars turned up, and were known by the name of snakes&rsquo;
heads.&nbsp; Occasionally they pierced the bottoms of the
carriages and injured passengers, and it was no uncommon thing to
hear passengers speculate as to which line they would go by, as
showing fewest snakes&rsquo; heads.</p>
<h2>PREJUDICE REMOVED.</h2>
<p>Mr. William Reed, a land agent, was called, in 1834, to give
evidence in favour of the Great Western Railway.&nbsp; He was
questioned as to the benefits conferred upon the localities
passed through by the Manchester and Liverpool Railway.&nbsp; He
was asked, &ldquo;From your knowledge of the property in the
neighbourhood, can you say that the houses have not decreased in
value?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes; I know an instance of a gentleman
who had a house very near, and, though he quarrelled very much
with the Company when they came there, and said, &lsquo;Very
well, if you will come let me have a high wall to keep you out of
sight,&rsquo; and a year-and-a-half ago he petitioned the Company
to take down the wall, and he has put up an iron railing, so that
he may see them.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A RIDE FROM BOSTON TO PROVIDENCE IN 1835.</h2>
<p>The early railway enterprise in America was not regarded by
all persons with feelings of unmixed satisfaction.&nbsp; Thus we
read of the railway journey taken by a gentleman of the old
school, whose experience and sensations&mdash;if not very
satisfactory to himself&mdash;are worth
recording:&mdash;&ldquo;July 22, 1835.&mdash;This morning at nine
o&rsquo;clock I took passage in a railroad car (from Boston) for
Providence.&nbsp; Five or six other cars were attached to the
locomotive, and uglier boxes I do not wish to travel in.&nbsp;
They were made to stow away some thirty human beings, who sit
cheek by jowl as best they can.&nbsp; Two poor fellows who were
not much in the habit of making their toilet squeezed me into a
corner, while the hot sun drew from their garments a villanous
compound <!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 82</span>of smells made up of salt fish, tar,
and molasses.&nbsp; By and bye, just twelve&mdash;only
twelve&mdash;bouncing factory girls were introduced, who were
going on a party of pleasure to Newport.&nbsp; &lsquo;Make room
for the ladies!&rsquo; bawled out the superintendent,
&lsquo;Come, gentlemen, jump up on the top; plenty of room
there.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;I&rsquo;m afraid of the bridge
knocking my brains out,&rsquo; said a passenger.&nbsp; Some made
one excuse and some another.&nbsp; For my part, I flatly told him
that since I had belonged to the corps of Silver Greys I had lost
my gallantry, and did not intend to move.&nbsp; The whole twelve
were, however, introduced, and soon made themselves at home,
sucking lemons and eating green apples. . .&nbsp; The rich and
the poor, the educated and the ignorant, the polite and the
vulgar, all herd together in this modern improvement of
travelling.&nbsp; The consequence is a complete
amalgamation.&nbsp; Master and servant sleep heads and points on
the cabin floor of the steamer, feed at the same table, sit in
each other&rsquo;s laps, as it were, in the cars; and all this
for the sake of doing very uncomfortably in two days what would
be done delightfully in eight or ten.&nbsp; Shall we be much
longer kept by this toilsome fashion of hurrying, hurrying, from
starting (those who can afford it) on a journey with our own
horses, and moving slowly, surely, and profitably through the
country, with the power of enjoying its beauty, and be the means
of creating good inns.&nbsp; Undoubtedly, a line of post-horses
and post-chaises would long ago have been established along our
great roads had not steam monopolized everything. . . .&nbsp;
Talk of ladies on board a steamboat or in a railroad car.&nbsp;
There are none!&nbsp; I never feel like a gentleman there, and I
cannot perceive a semblance of gentility in any one who makes
part of the travelling mob.&nbsp; When I see women whom, in their
drawing rooms or elsewhere, I have been accustomed to respect and
treat with every suitable deference&mdash;when I see them, I say,
elbowing their way through a crowd of dirty emigrants or lowbred
homespun fellows in petticoats or breeches in our country, in
order to reach a table spread for a hundred or more, I lose sight
of their pretensions to gentility and view them as belonging to
the plebeian herd.&nbsp; To restore herself to her caste, let a
lady move in select company at five miles an hour, and take her
meals in comfort at a good inn, where <!-- page 83--><a
name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>she may dine
decently. . . .&nbsp; After all, the old-fashioned way of five or
six miles, with liberty to dine in a decent inn and be master of
one&rsquo;s movements, with the delight of seeing the country and
getting along rationally, is the mode to which I cling, and which
will be adopted again by the generations of after
times.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Recollections of Samuel
Breck</i>.</p>
<h2>APPEALING TO THE CLERGY.</h2>
<p>Mr. C. F. Adams remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;During the periods of
discouragement which, a few years later, marked certain stages of
the construction of the Western road, connecting Worcester with
Albany&mdash;when both money and courage seemed almost
exhausted&mdash;Mr. De Grand never for a moment faltered.&nbsp;
He might almost be said to have then had Western railroad on the
brain.&nbsp; Among other things, he issued a circular which
caused much amusement and not improbably some scandal among the
more precise.&nbsp; The Rev. S. K. Lothrop, then a young man, had
preached a sermon in Brattle Street Church which attracted a good
deal of attention, on the subject of the moral and Christianizing
influence of railroads.&nbsp; Mr. De Grand thought he saw his
occasion, and he certainly availed himself of it.&nbsp; He at
once had a circular printed, a copy of which he sent to every
clergyman in Massachusetts, suggesting the propriety of a
discourse on &lsquo;The moral and Christianizing influence of
railroads in general and of the Western railroad in
particular.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AIR-WAYS INSTEAD OF RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>In the <i>Mechanics&rsquo; Magazine</i> for July 22nd, 1837,
is to be found the following remarkable
suggestion:&mdash;&ldquo;In many parts of the new railroads,
where there has been some objection to the locomotive engines,
stationary ones are resorted to, as everyone knows to draw the
vehicles along.&nbsp; Why might not these vehicles be
balloons?&nbsp; Why, instead of being dragged on the surface of
the ground, along costly viaducts or under disagreeable tunnels,
might they not travel two or three hundred feet high?&nbsp; By
balloons, I mean, of course, anything raised in the air by means
of a gas lighter than the air.&nbsp; They might be of all shapes
and <!-- page 84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
84</span>sizes to suit convenience.&nbsp; The practicability of
this plan does not seem to be doubtful.&nbsp; Its advantages are
obvious.&nbsp; Instead of having to purchase, as for a railway,
the whole line of track passed over, the company for a
balloon-way would only have to procure those spots of ground on
which they proposed to erect stationary engines; and these need
in no case be of peculiar value, since their being a hundred
yards one way or the other would make little difference.&nbsp;
Viaducts of course would never be necessary, cuttings in very few
occasions indeed, if at all.&nbsp; The chief expense of balloons
is their inflation, which is renewed at every new ascent; but in
these balloons the gas once in need never to be let out, and one
inflation would be enough.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The same writer a few years later on
observes:&mdash;&ldquo;One feature of the air-way to supersede
the railway would be, that besides preventing the destruction of
the architectural beauties of the metropolis, now menaced by the
multitudinous network of viaducts and subways at war with the
existing thoroughfares, it would occasion the construction of
numerous lofty towers as stations of arrival and departure, which
would afford an opportunity of architectural effect hitherto
undreamed of.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>PREJUDICE AGAINST CARRYING COALS BY RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>Rev. F. S. Williams in an article upon &ldquo;Railway
Revolutions,&rdquo; remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;When railways were
first established it was never imagined that they would be so far
degraded as to carry coals; but George Stephenson and others soon
saw how great a service railways might render in developing and
distributing the mineral wealth of the country.&nbsp; Prejudice
had, however, to be timidly and vigorously overcome.&nbsp; When
it was mentioned to a certain eminent railway authority that
George Stephenson had spoken of sending coals by railway:
&lsquo;Coals!&rsquo; he exclaimed, &lsquo;they will want us to
carry dung next.&rsquo;&nbsp; The remark was reported to
&lsquo;Old George,&rsquo; who was not behind his critic in the
energy of his expression.&nbsp; &lsquo;You tell B&mdash;,&rsquo;
he said, &lsquo;that when he travels by railway, they carry dung
now!&rsquo;&nbsp; The strength of the feeling against the traffic
is sufficiently illustrated by the fact that, when the London and
Birmingham Railway began to carry coal, the wagons that contained
it <!-- page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
85</span>were sheeted over that their contents might not be seen;
and when a coal wharf was first made at Crick station, a screen
was built to hide the work from the observation of passengers on
the line.&nbsp; Even the possibility of carrying coal at a
remunerative price was denied.&nbsp; &lsquo;I am very
sorry,&rsquo; said Lord Eldon, referring to this subject,
&lsquo;to find the intelligent people of the north country gone
mad on the subject of railways;&rsquo; and another eminent
authority declared: &lsquo;It is all very well to spend money; it
will do some good; but I will eat all the coals your railway will
carry.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;George Stephenson, however, and other friends of coal,
held on their way; and he declared that the time would come when
London would be supplied with coal by railway.&nbsp; &lsquo;The
strength of Britain,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;is in her coal beds;
and the locomotive is destined, above all other agencies, to
bring it forth.&nbsp; The Lord Chancellor now sits upon a bag of
wool; but wool has long ceased to be emblematical of the staple
commodity of England.&nbsp; He ought rather to sit upon a bag of
coals, though it might not prove quite so comfortable a
seat.&nbsp; Then think of the Lord Chancellor being addressed as
the noble and learned lord on the coal-sack?&nbsp; I&rsquo;m
afraid it wouldn&rsquo;t answer, after all.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN EPITAPH ON THE VICTIM OF A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>A correspondent writes to the <i>Pall Mall
Gazette</i>:&mdash;&ldquo;Our poetic literature, so rich in other
respects, is entirely wanting in epitaphs on the victims of
railway accidents.&nbsp; A specimen of what may be turned in this
line is to be seen on a tombstone in the picturesque churchyard
of Harrow-on-the-Hill.&nbsp; It was, I observe, written as long
ago as 1838, so that it can be reproduced without much danger of
hurting the feelings of those who may have known and loved the
subject of this touching elegy.&nbsp; The name of the victim was
Port, and the circumstances of his death are thus set
forth:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>Bright was the morn, and happy rose poor Port;<br
/>
Gay on the train he used his wonted sport.<br />
Ere noon arrived his mangled form they bore<br />
With pain distorted and overwhelmed with gore.<br />
When evening came and closed the fatal day,<br />
A mutilated corpse the sufferer lay.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<h2><!-- page 86--><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
86</span>AN ENGINE-DRIVER&rsquo;S EPITAPH.</h2>
<p>In the cemetery at Alton, Illinois, there is a tombstone
bearing the following inscription:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;My engine is now cold and still.<br />
No water does my boiler fill.<br />
My coke affords its flame no more,<br />
My days of usefulness are o&rsquo;er;<br />
My wheels deny their noted speed,<br />
No more my guiding hand they heed;<br />
My whistle&mdash;it has lost its tone,<br />
Its shrill and thrilling sound is gone;<br />
My valves are now thrown open wide,<br />
My flanges all refuse to glide;<br />
My clacks&mdash;alas! though once so strong,<br />
Refuse their aid in the busy throng;<br />
No more I feel each urging breath,<br />
My steam is now condensed in death;<br />
Life&rsquo;s railway o&rsquo;er, each station past,<br />
In death I&rsquo;m stopped, and rest at last.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This epitaph was written by an engineer on the old Chicago and
Mississippi Railroad, who was fatally injured by an accident on
the road; and while he lay awaiting the death which he knew to be
inevitable, he wrote the lines which are engraved upon his
tombstone.</p>
<h2>TRAFFIC-TAKING.</h2>
<p>Between the years 1836 and 1839, when there were many railway
acts applied for, traffic-taking became a lucrative
calling.&nbsp; It was necessary that some approximate estimate
should be made as to the income which the lines might be expected
to yield.&nbsp; Arithmeticians, who calculated traffic receipts,
were to be found to prove what promoters of railways required to
satisfy shareholders and Parliamentary Committees.&nbsp; The
Eastern Counties Railway was estimated to pay a dividend of
23&frac12; per cent.; the London and Cambridge, 14&frac12; per
cent.; the Sheffield and Manchester, 18&frac12; per cent.&nbsp;
One shareholder of this company was so sanguine as to the success
of the line that in a letter to the <i>Railway Magazine</i> he
calculated on a dividend of 80 per cent.&nbsp; Bitter indeed must
have been the disappointment of those railway shareholders who
pinned their faith to the estimates of traffic-takers, when
instead of receiving large dividends, little was received, and in
some instances the lines paid no dividend at all.</p>
<h2><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
87</span>MONEY LOST AND FOUND.</h2>
<p>On Friday night, a servant of the Birmingham Railway Company
found in one of the first-class carriages, after the passengers
had left, a pocket book containing a check on a London Bank for
&pound;2,000 and &pound;2,500 in bank notes.&nbsp; He delivered
the book and its contents to the principal officer, and it was
forwarded to the gentleman to whom it belonged, his address being
discovered from some letters in the pocket book.&nbsp; He had
gone to bed, and risen and dressed himself next morning without
discovering his loss, which was only made known by the
restoration of the property.&nbsp; He immediately tendered
&pound;20 to the party who had found his money, but this being
contrary to the regulations of the directors, the party, though a
poor man, could not receive the reward.&nbsp; As the temptation,
however, was so great to apply the money to his own use, the
matter is to be brought before a meeting of the directors.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Aris&rsquo;s Gazette</i>,
1839.</p>
<h2>ORIGIN OF COOK&rsquo;S RAILWAY EXCURSIONS.</h2>
<p>Mr. Thomas Cook, the celebrated excursionist, in an article in
the <i>Leisure Hour</i> remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;As a pioneer in a
wide field of thought and action, my course can never be
repeated.&nbsp; It has been mine to battle against inaugural
difficulties, and to place the system on a basis of consolidated
strength.&nbsp; It was mine to lay the foundations of a system on
which others, both individuals and companies, have builded, and
there is not a phase of the tourist plans of Europe and America
that was not embodied in my plans or foreshadowed in my
ideas.&nbsp; The whole thing seemed to come to me as by
intuition, and my spirit recoiled at the idea of imitation.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The beginning was very small, and was on this
wise.&nbsp; I believe that the Midland Railway from Derby to
Rugby <i>via</i> Leicester was opened in 1840.&nbsp; At that time
I knew but little of railways, having only travelled over the
Leicester and Swannington line from Leicester to Long Lane, a
terminus near to the Leicestershire collieries.&nbsp; The reports
in the papers of the opening of the new line created astonishment
in Leicestershire, and I had read of an interchange <!-- page
88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 88</span>of
visits between the Leicester and Nottingham Mechanics&rsquo;
Institutes.&nbsp; I was an enthusiastic temperance man, and the
secretary of a district association, which embraced parts of the
two counties of Leicester and Northampton.&nbsp; A great meeting
was to be held at Leicester, over which Lawrence Heyworth, Esq.,
of Liverpool&mdash;a great railway as well as temperance
man&mdash;was advertised to preside.&nbsp; From my residence at
Market Harborough I walked to Leicester (fifteen miles) to attend
that meeting.&nbsp; About midway between Harborough and
Leicester&mdash;my mind&rsquo;s eye has often reverted to the
spot&mdash;a thought flashed through my brain, what a glorious
thing it would be if the newly-developed powers of railways and
locomotion could be made subservient to the promotion of
temperance.&nbsp; That thought grew upon me as I travelled over
the last six or eight miles.&nbsp; I carried it up to the
platform, and, strong in the confidence of the sympathy of the
chairman, I broached the idea of engaging a special train to
carry the friends of temperance from Leicester to Loughborough
and back to attend a quarterly delegate meeting appointed to be
held there in two or three weeks following.&nbsp; The chairman
approved, the meeting roared with excitement, and early next day
I proposed my grand scheme to John Fox Bell, the resident
secretary of the Midland Counties Railway Company.&nbsp; Mr.
Paget, of Loughborough, opened his park for a gala, and on the
day appointed about five hundred passengers filled some twenty or
twenty-five open carriages&mdash;they were called
&lsquo;tubs&rsquo; in those days&mdash;and the party rode the
enormous distance of eleven miles and back for a shilling,
children half-price.&nbsp; We carried music with us, and music
met us at the Loughborough station.&nbsp; The people crowded the
streets, filled windows, covered the house-tops, and cheered us
all along the line, with the heartiest welcome.&nbsp; All went
off in the best style and in perfect safety we returned to
Leicester; and thus was struck the keynote of my excursions, and
the social idea grew upon me.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE DEODAND.</h2>
<p>It was a principle of English common law derived from the
feudal period, that anything through the instrumentality of which
death occurred was forfeited to the <!-- page 89--><a
name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>crown as a
deodand; accordingly down to the year 1840 and even later, we
find, in all cases where persons were killed, records of deodands
levied by the coroners&rsquo; juries upon locomotives.&nbsp;
These appear to have been arbitrarily imposed and graduated in
amount accordingly as circumstances seemed to excite in greater
or less degree the sympathies or the indignation of the
jury.&nbsp; In November, 1838, for instance, a locomotive
exploded upon the Liverpool and Manchester line, killing its
engineer and fireman; and for this escapade a deodand of twenty
pounds was assessed upon it by the coroner&rsquo;s jury; while
upon another occasion, in 1839, when the locomotive struck and
killed a man and horse at a street crossing, the deodand was
fixed at no less a sum than fourteen hundred pounds, the full
value of the engine.&nbsp; Yet in this last case there did not
appear to be any circumstances rendering the company liable in
civil damages.&nbsp; The deodand seems to have been looked upon
as a species of rude penalty imposed on the use of dangerous
appliances, a sharp reminder to the companies to look sharply
after their locomotives and employ&eacute;s.&nbsp; Thus upon the
24th of December, 1841, on the Great Western Railway, a train,
while moving through a thick fog at a high rate of speed, came
suddenly in contact with a mass of earth which had slid from the
embankment at the side on to the track.&nbsp; Instantly the whole
rear of the train was piled up on the top of the first carriage,
which happened to be crowded with passengers, eight of whom were
killed on the spot, while seventeen others were more or less
injured.&nbsp; The coroner&rsquo;s jury returned a verdict of
accidental death, and at the same time, as if to give the company
a forcible hint to look closer to the condition of its
embankment, a deodand of one hundred pounds was levied on the
locomotive and tender.</p>
<h2>AN UNFORTUNATE DISCUSSION.</h2>
<p>Two gentlemen sitting opposite each other in a railway
carriage got into a political argument; one was elderly and a
staunch Conservative, the other was young and an
ultra-Radical.&nbsp; It may be readily conceived that, as the
argument went on, the abuse became fast and furious; all sorts of
unpleasant phrases and epithets were bandied about, <!-- page
90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
90</span>personalities were freely indulged in, and the other
passengers were absolutely compelled to interfere to prevent a
<i>fracas</i>.&nbsp; At the end of the journey the disputants
parted in mutual disgust, and looking unutterable things.&nbsp;
It so happened that the young man had a letter of introduction to
an influential person in the neighbourhood respecting a legal
appointment which was then vacant, which the young man desired to
obtain, and which the elderly gentleman had the power to
secure.&nbsp; The young petitioner, first going to his hotel and
making himself presentable, sallied forth on his errand.&nbsp; He
reached the noble mansion of the person to whom his letter of
introduction was addressed, was ushered into an ante-room, and
there awaited, with mingled hope and fear, the all-important
interview.&nbsp; After a few minutes the door opened and,
horrible to relate! he who entered was the young man&rsquo;s
travelling opponent, and thus the opponents of an hour since
stood face to face.&nbsp; The confusion and humiliation on the
one side, and the hauteur and coldness on the other, may be
readily imagined.&nbsp; Sir Edward C&mdash;, however&mdash;for
such he was&mdash;although he instantly recognized his recent
antagonist, was too well-bred to make any allusion to the
transaction.&nbsp; He took the letter of introduction in silence,
read it, folded it up, and returned it to the presenter with a
bitter smile and the following speech: &ldquo;Sir, I am
infinitely obliged to my friend, Mr. &mdash;, for recommending to
my notice a gentleman whom he conceives to be so well fitted for
the vacant post as yourself; but permit me to say that, inasmuch
as the office you are desirous to fill exists upon a purely
Conservative tenure, and can only be appropriately administered
by a person of Conservative tendency, I could not think of doing
such violence to your well-known political principles as to
recommend you for the post in question.&rdquo;&nbsp; With these
words and another smile more grim than before, Sir Edward
C&mdash; bowed the chapfallen petitioner out, and he quickly took
his way to the railway station, secretly vowing never again to
enter into political argument with an unknown railway
traveller.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Railway
Traveller&rsquo;s Handy Book</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
91</span>DOG TICKET.</h2>
<p>Shortly after telegraphs were laid alongside of railways, a
principal officer of a railway company got into a compartment of
a stopping train at an intermediate station.&nbsp; The train had
hardly left, when an elderly gentleman, in terms of endearment,
invited what turned out to be a little Skye terrier to come out
of its concealment under the seat.&nbsp; The dog came out, jumped
up, and appeared to enjoy his journey until the speed of the
train slackened previous to stopping at a station, the dog then
instinctively retreated to its hiding place, and came out again
in due course after the train had started.&nbsp; The officer of
the company left the train at a station or two afterwards.&nbsp;
On its arrival at the London ticket platform the gentleman
delivered up the tickets for his party.&nbsp; &ldquo;Dog ticket,
sir, please.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Dog ticket, what dog
ticket?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Ticket, sir, for Skye terrier, black
and tan, with his ears nearly over his eyes; travelling, for
comfort&rsquo;s sake, under the seat opposite to you, sir, in a
large carpet bag, red ground with yellow cross-bars.&rdquo;&nbsp;
The gentleman found resistance useless; he paid the fare
demanded, when the ticket-collector&mdash;who throughout the
scene had never changed a muscle&mdash;handed him a ticket that
he had prepared beforehand.&nbsp; &ldquo;Dog ticket, sir;
gentlemen not allowed to travel with a dog without a dog ticket;
you will have to give it up in London.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes,
but how did you know I had a dog?&nbsp; That&rsquo;s what puzzles
me!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Ah, sir,&rdquo; said the
ticket-collector, relaxing a little, but with an air of
satisfaction, &ldquo;the telegraph is laid on our railway.&nbsp;
Them&rsquo;s the wires you see on the outside; we find them very
useful in our business, etc.&nbsp; Thank you, sir, good
morning.&rdquo;&nbsp; It is needless to tell what part the
principal officer played in this little drama.&nbsp; On arrival
in London the dog ticket was duly claimed, a little word to that
effect having been sent up by a previous train to be sure to have
it demanded, although, as a usual practice, dog tickets are
collected at the same time as those of passengers.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Roney&rsquo;s Rambles on
Railways</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
92</span>THE ELECTRIC CONSTABLE.</h2>
<p>The first application of the telegraph to police purposes took
place in 1844, on the Great Western Railway, and, as it was the
first intimation thieves got of the electric constable being on
duty, it is full of interest.&nbsp; The following extracts are
from the telegraph book kept at the Paddington
Station:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Eton Montem Day, August 28, 1844.&mdash;The
Commissioners of Police having issued orders that several
officers of the detective force shall be stationed at Paddington
to watch the movements of suspicious persons, going by the down
train, and give notice by the electric telegraph to the Slough
station of the number of such suspected persons, and dress, their
names (if known), also the carriages in which they
are.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Now come the messages following one after the other, and
influencing the fate of the marked individuals with all the
celerity, certainty, and calmness of the Nemesis of the Greek
drama:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Paddington, 10.20 a.m.&mdash;Mail train just
started.&nbsp; It contains three thieves, named Sparrow, Burrell,
and Spurgeon, in the first compartment of the fourth first-class
carriage.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Slough, 10.50 a.m.&mdash;Mail train arrived.&nbsp;
<i>The officers have cautioned the three thieves</i>.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Paddington, 10.50 a.m.&mdash;Special train just
left.&nbsp; It contained two thieves; one named Oliver Martin,
who is dressed in black, <i>crape on his hat</i>; the other named
Fiddler Dick, in black trousers and light blouse.&nbsp; Both in
the third compartment of the first second-class
carriage.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Slough, 11.16 a.m.&mdash;Special train arrived.&nbsp;
Officers have taken the two thieves into custody, a lady having
lost her bag, containing a purse with two sovereigns and some
silver in it; one of the sovereigns was sworn to by the lady as
having been her property.&nbsp; It was found in Fiddler
Dick&rsquo;s watch fob.&rdquo;</p>
<p>It appears that, on the arrival of the train, a policeman
opened the door of the &ldquo;third compartment of the first
second-class carriage,&rdquo; and asked the passengers if they
had missed anything?&nbsp; A search in pockets and bags
accordingly ensued, until one lady called out that her purse was
gone.</p>
<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
93</span>&ldquo;Fiddler Dick, you are wanted,&rdquo; was the
immediate demand of the police officer, beckoning to the culprit,
who came out of the carriage thunder-struck at the discovery, and
gave himself up, together with the booty, with the air of a
completely beaten man.&nbsp; The effect of the capture so
cleverly brought about is thus spoken of in the telegraph
book:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Slough, 11.51 a.m.&mdash;Several of the suspected
persons who came by the various down-trains are lurking about
Slough, uttering bitter invectives against the telegraph.&nbsp;
Not one of those cautioned has ventured to proceed to the
Montem.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RUNAWAY MATCH.</h2>
<p>Sir Francis Head in his account of the London and
North-Western Railway remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;During a marriage
which very lately took place at &mdash;, one of the bridesmaids
was so deeply affected by the ceremony that she took the
opportunity of the concentrated interest excited by the bride to
elope from church with an admirer.&nbsp; The instant her parents
discovered their sad loss, messengers were sent to all the
railway stations to stop the fugitives.&nbsp; The telegraph also
went to work, and with such effect that, before night, no less
than four affectionate couples legitimately married that morning
were interrupted on their several marriage jaunts and most
seriously bothered, inconvenienced, and impeded by policemen and
magistrates.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A RAILWAY ROMANCE.</h2>
<p>An incident of an amusing though of a rather serious nature
occurred some years ago on the London and South-Western
Railway.&nbsp; A gentleman, whose place of residence was Maple
Derwell, near Basingstoke, got into a first-class carriage at the
Waterloo terminus, with the intention of proceeding home by one
of the main line down trains.&nbsp; His only fellow-passengers in
the compartment were a lady and an infant, and another gentleman,
and thus things remained until the arrival of the train at
Walton, where the other gentleman left the carriage, leaving the
first gentleman with the lady and child.&nbsp; Shortly after this
the train reached the Weybridge station, and on its stopping <!--
page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
94</span>the lady, under the pretence of looking for her servant
or carriage, requested her male fellow-passenger to hold the
infant for a few minutes while she went to search for what she
wanted.&nbsp; The bell rang for the starting of the train and the
gentleman thus strangely left with the baby began to get rather
fidgety, and anxious to return his charge to the mother.&nbsp;
The lady, however, did not again put in any appearance, and the
train went on without her, the child remaining with the
gentleman, who, on arriving at his destination took the child
home to his wife and explained the circumstance under which it
came into his possession.&nbsp; No application has, at present,
it is understood, been made for the &ldquo;lost child,&rdquo;
which has for the nonce been adopted by the gentleman and his
wife, who, it is said, are without any family of their own.</p>
<h2>GIGANTIC POWER OF LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES.</h2>
<p>Sir Francis Head remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;The gigantic power of
the locomotive engines hourly committed to the charge of these
drivers was lately strangely exemplified in the large engine
stable at the Camden Station.&nbsp; A passenger engine, whose
furnace-fire had but shortly been lighted, was standing in this
huge building surrounded by a number of artificers, who, in
presence of the chief superintendent, were working in various
directions around it.&nbsp; While they were all busily occupied,
the fire in the furnace&mdash;by burning up faster than was
expected&mdash;suddenly imparted to the engine the breath of
life; and no sooner had the minimum of steam necessary to move it
been thus created, than this infant Hercules not only walked
<i>off</i>, but without the smallest embarrassment walked
<i>through</i> the 14-inch brick wall of the great building which
contained it, to the terror of the superintendent and workmen,
who expected every instant that the roof above their heads would
fall in and extinguish them.&nbsp; In consequence of the spindle
of the regulator having got out of its socket the very same
accident occurred shortly afterwards with another engine, which,
in like manner, walked through another portion of this 14-inch
wall of the stable that contained it, just as a thorough-bred
horse would have walked out of the door.&nbsp; And if such be the
irresistible power of the locomotive engine when feebly walking
in its new-born <!-- page 95--><a name="page95"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 95</span>state, unattended or unassisted even
by its tender, is it not appalling to reflect what must be its
momentum when, in the full vigour of its life, it is flying down
a steep gradient at the rate of 50 miles an hour, backed up by,
say, 30 passenger carriages, each weighing on an average
5&frac12; tons?&nbsp; If ordinary houses could suddenly be placed
in its path, it would, passengers and all, run through them as a
musket-ball goes through a keg of butter; but what would be the
result if, at this full speed, the engine by any accident were to
be diverted against a mass of solid rock, such as sometimes is to
be seen at the entrance of a tunnel, it is impossible to
calculate or even to conjecture.&nbsp; It is stated by the
company&rsquo;s superintendent, who witnessed the occurrence,
that some time ago an ordinary accident happening to a luggage
train near Loughborough, the wagons overrode each other until the
uppermost one was found piled 40 feet above the rails!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>NOVEL NOTICE TO DEFAULTING SHAREHOLDERS.</h2>
<p>In the early days of railway enterprise there was often much
difficulty in obtaining the punctual payment of calls from the
shareholders.&nbsp; The Leicester and Swannington line was thus
troubled.&nbsp; The Secretary, adopting a rather novel way to
collect the calls, wrote to the defaulters:&mdash;&ldquo;I am
therefore necessitated to inform you, that unless the sum of
&pound;2 is paid on or before the 22nd instant, your name will be
furnished to one of the principal and most pressing creditors of
the company.&rdquo;&nbsp; The missives of the Secretary generally
had the desired effect.</p>
<h2>A QUICK DECISION.</h2>
<p>The elder Brunel was habitually absent in society, but no man
was more remarkable for presence of mind in an emergency.&nbsp;
Numerous instances are recorded of this latter quality, but none
more striking than that of his adventure in the act of inspecting
the Birmingham Railway.&nbsp; Suddenly in a confined part of the
road a train was seen approaching from either end of the line,
and at a speed which it was difficult to calculate.&nbsp; The
spectators were horrified; there was not an instant to be lost;
but an instant sufficed to the experienced engineer to determine
the safest course <!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 96</span>under the circumstances.&nbsp;
Without attempting to cross the road, which would have been
almost certain destruction, he at once took his position exactly
midway between the up and down lines, and drawing the skirts of
his coat close around him, allowed the two trains to sweep past
him; when to the great relief of those who witnessed the exciting
scene, he was found untouched upon the road.&nbsp; Without the
engineer&rsquo;s experience which enabled him to form so rapid a
decision, there can be no doubt that he must have perished.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Temple
Anecdotes</i>.</p>
<h2>THE VERSAILLES ACCIDENT IN 1842.</h2>
<p>Mr. Charles F. Adams thus describes it:&mdash;&ldquo;On the
8th of May, 1842, there happened in France one of the most famous
and horrible railroad slaughters ever recorded.&nbsp; It was the
birthday of the king, Louis Phillipe, and, in accordance with the
usual practice, the occasion had been celebrated at Versailles by
a great display of the fountains.&nbsp; At half-past five
o&rsquo;clock these had stopped playing, and a general rush
ensued for the trains then about to leave for Paris.&nbsp; That
which went by the road along the left bank of the Seine was
densely crowded, and was so long that it required two locomotives
to draw it.&nbsp; As it was moving at a high rate of speed
between Bellevue and Menden, the axle of the foremost of these
two locomotives broke, letting the body of the engine drop to the
ground.&nbsp; It instantly stopped, and the second locomotive was
then driven by its impetus on top of the first, crushing its
engineer and fireman, while the contents of both the fire-boxes
were scattered over the roadway and among the
<i>debris</i>.&nbsp; Three carriages crowded with passengers were
then piled on top of this burning mass, and there crushed
together into each other.&nbsp; The doors of the train were all
locked, as was then, and indeed is still, the custom in Europe,
and it so chanced that the carriages had all been newly
painted.&nbsp; They blazed up like pine kindlings.&nbsp; Some of
the carriages were so shattered that a portion of those in them
were enabled to extricate themselves, but no less than forty were
held fast; and of these such as were not so fortunate as to be
crushed to death in the first shock perished hopelessly in the
flames before the eyes of <!-- page 97--><a
name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>a throng of
impotent lookers-on.&nbsp; Some fifty-two or fifty-three persons
were supposed to have lost their lives in this disaster, and more
than forty others were injured; the exact number of the killed,
however, could never be ascertained, as the telescoping of the
carriages on top of the two locomotives had made of the destroyed
portion of the train a visible holocaust of the most hideous
description.&nbsp; Not only did whole families perish
together&mdash;in one case no less than eleven members of the
same family sharing a common fate&mdash;but the remains of such
as were destroyed could neither be identified nor
separated.&nbsp; In one case a female foot was alone
recognisable, while in others the bodies were calcined and fused
into an undistinguishable mass.&nbsp; The Academy of Sciences
appointed a committee to inquire whether Admiral D&rsquo;Urville,
a distinguished French navigator, was among the victims.&nbsp;
His body was thought to be found, but it was so terribly
mutilated that it could be recognized only by a sculptor, who
chanced some time before to have taken a phrenological cast of
his skull.&nbsp; His wife and only son had perished with him.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It is not easy now to conceive the excitement and
dismay which this catastrophe caused throughout France.&nbsp; The
new invention was at once associated in the minds of an excitable
people with novel forms of imminent death.&nbsp; France had at
best been laggard enough in its adoption of the new appliance,
and now it seemed for a time as if the Versailles disaster was to
operate as a barrier in the way of all further railroad
development.&nbsp; Persons availed themselves of the steam roads
already constructed as rarely as possible, and then in fear and
trembling, while steps were taken to substitute horse for steam
power on other roads then in process of construction.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN AMATEUR SIGNALMAN.</h2>
<p>Mr. Williams in his book, <i>Our Iron Roads</i>, gives an
account of a foolish act of signalling to stop a train; he
says:&mdash;&ldquo;An Irishman, who appears to have been in some
measure acquainted with the science of signalling, was on one
occasion walking along the Great Western line without permission,
when he thought he might reduce his information <!-- page 98--><a
name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>to practical
use.&nbsp; Accordingly, on seeing an express train approach, he
ran a short distance up the side of the cutting, and began to
wave a handkerchief very energetically, which he had secured to a
stick, as a signal to stop.&nbsp; The warning was not to be
disregarded, and never was command obeyed with greater
alacrity.&nbsp; The works of the engine were reversed&mdash;the
tender and van breaks were applied&mdash;and soon, to the alarm
of the passengers, the train came to a &lsquo;dead
halt.&rsquo;&nbsp; A hundred heads were thrust out of the
carriage windows, and the guard had scarcely time to exclaim,
&lsquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rsquo; when Paddy, with a knowing
touch of his &lsquo;brinks,&rsquo; asked his &lsquo;honour if he
would give him a bit of a ride?&rsquo;&nbsp; So polite and
ingenuous a request was not to be denied, and, though biting his
lips with annoyance, the officer replied &lsquo;Oh, certainly;
jump in here,&rsquo; and the pilgrim was ensconced in the luggage
van.&nbsp; But instead of having his ride &lsquo;for his
thanks,&rsquo; the functionary duly handed him over to the
magisterial authorities, that he might be taught the important
lesson, that railway companies did not keep express trains for
Irish beggars, and that such costly machinery was not to be
imperilled with impunity, either by their freaks or their
ignorance.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>STEAM WHISTLE.</h2>
<p>In the early days of railways, the signal of alarm was given
by the blowing of a horn.&nbsp; In the year, 1833, an accident
occurred on the Leicester and Swannington railway near Thornton,
at a level crossing, through an engine running against a horse
and cart.&nbsp; Mr. Bagster, the manager, after narrating the
circumstance to George Stephenson, asked &ldquo;Is it not
possible to have a whistle fitted on the engine, which the steam
can blow?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;A very good thought,&rdquo; replied
Stephenson.&nbsp; &ldquo;You go to Mr. So-and-So, a musical
instrument maker, and get a model made, and we will have a steam
whistle, and put it on the next engine that comes on the
line.&rdquo;&nbsp; When the model was made it was sent to the
Newcastle factory and future engines had the whistle fitted on
them.</p>
<h2><!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
99</span>EXEMPTION FROM ACCIDENTS.</h2>
<p>Mr. C. F. Adams, remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;Indeed, from the time
of Mr. Huskisson&rsquo;s death, during the period of over eleven
years, railroads enjoyed a remarkable and most fortunate
exemption from accidents.&nbsp; During all that time there did
not occur a single disaster resulting in any considerable loss of
life.&nbsp; This happy exemption was probably due to a variety of
causes.&nbsp; Those early roads were in the first place,
remarkably well and thoroughly built, and were very cautiously
operated under a light volume of traffic.&nbsp; The precautions
then taken and the appliances in use would, it is true, strike
the modern railroad superintendent as both primitive and comical;
for instance, they involve the running of independent pilot
locomotives in advance of all night passenger trains, and it was,
by the way, on a pioneer locomotive of this description, on the
return trip of the excursion party from Manchester after the
accident to Mr. Huskisson, that the first recorded attempt was
made in the direction of our present elaborate system of night
signals.&nbsp; On that occasion obstacles were signalled to those
in charge of the succeeding trains by a man on the pioneer
locomotive, who used for that purpose a bit of lighted tarred
rope.&nbsp; Through all the years between 1830 and 1841,
nevertheless, not a single serious railroad disaster had to be
recorded.&nbsp; Indeed, the luck&mdash;for it was nothing
else&mdash;of these earlier times was truly amazing.&nbsp; Thus
on this same Liverpool and Manchester road, as a first-class
train on the morning of April 17, 1836, was moving at a speed of
some thirty miles an hour, an axle broke under the first
passenger carriage, causing the whole train to leave the rails
and throwing it down the embankment, which at that point was
twenty feet high.&nbsp; The carriages were rolled over, and the
passengers in them turned topsy-turvy; nor, as they were securely
locked in, could they even extricate themselves when at last the
wreck of the train reached firm bearings.&nbsp; And yet no one
was killed.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RIVAL CONTRACTORS AND THE BLOTTING PAD.</h2>
<p>In rails, the same system has prevailed.&nbsp; Ironmasters
have been pitted against each other, as to which should produce
an apparent rail at the lowest price.&nbsp; At the outset <!--
page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
100</span>of railways the rails were made of iron.&nbsp;
Competition gradually produced rails in which a core, of what is
technically called &ldquo;cinder,&rdquo; is covered up with a
skin of iron; and the cleverest foreman for an ironmaster was the
man who could make rails with the maximum of cinder and the
minimum of iron.&nbsp; In more than one instance has it been
known in relaying an old line the worn-out rails have been sold
at a higher price per ton than the new ones were bought for; yet
this would hardly open the eyes of the buyers.&nbsp; The
contrivances which are resorted to to get hold of one
another&rsquo;s prices beforehand by competing contractors are
manifold; and, when they attend in person, they commonly put off
the filling up of their tender till the last moment.&nbsp; Once a
shrewd contractor found himself at the same inn with a rival who
always trod close on his heels.&nbsp; He was followed about and
cross-questioned incessantly, and gave vague answers.&nbsp;
Within half-an-hour of the last moment he went into the coffee
room and sat himself down in a corner where his rival could not
overlook him.&nbsp; There and then he filled up his tender, and,
as he rose from the table, left behind him the paper on which he
had blotted it.&nbsp; As he left the room his rival caught up the
blotting paper, and, with the exulting glee of a consciously
successful rival, read off the amount backwards.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Done this time!&rdquo; was his mental thought, as he
filled up his own tender a dollar lower, and hastened to deposit
it.&nbsp; To his utter surprise, the next day he found that he
had lost the contract, and complainingly asked his rival how it
was, for he had tendered below him.&nbsp; &ldquo;How did you know
you were below me?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Because I found your
blotting paper.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I thought so.&nbsp; I left it
on purpose for you, and wrote another tender in my bedroom.&nbsp;
You had better make your own calculations next time!&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Roads and Rails</i>, by W.
B. Adams.</p>
<h2>RAILWAY LEGISLATION.</h2>
<p>A writer in the <i>Encyclop&aelig;dia Britannica</i>
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;The expenses, direct and incidental, of
obtaining an Act of Parliament have been in many cases enormous,
and generally are excessive.&nbsp; The adherence to useless and
expensive forms of Parliamentary Committees in what are <!-- page
101--><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
101</span>called the standing orders, or general regulations for
the observance of promoters of railway bills, on the one part,
and the itching for opposition of railway companies, to resist
fancied inroads on vested rights, supposed injurious competition,
on the other part, have been amongst the sources of excessive
expenditure.&nbsp; Mr. Stephenson mentioned an instance showing
how Parliament has entailed expense upon railway companies by the
system complained of.&nbsp; The Trent Valley Railway was under
other titles originally proposed in 1836.&nbsp; It was, however,
thrown out by the standing orders committee, in consequence of a
barn of the value of &pound;10, which was shown upon the general
plan, not having been exhibited upon an enlarged sheet.&nbsp; In
1840, the line again went before Parliament.&nbsp; It was opposed
by the Grand Junction Railway Company, now part of the London and
North-Western.&nbsp; No less than 450 allegations were made
against it before the standing orders subcommittee, which was
engaged twenty-two days in considering those objections.&nbsp;
They ultimately reported that four or five of the allegations
were proved, but the committee nevertheless allowed the bill to
proceed.&nbsp; It was read a second time and then went into
committee, by whom it was under consideration for sixty-three
days; and ultimately Parliament was prorogued before the report
could be made.&nbsp; Such were the delays and consequent expenses
which the forms of the House occasioned in this case, that it may
be doubted if the ultimate cost of constructing the whole line
was very much more than was expended in obtaining permission from
Parliament to make it.&nbsp; This example serves to show the
expensive formalities, the delays, and difficulties, with which
Parliament surround railway legislation.&nbsp; Another instance,
quoted by the same authority, will show not only the absurdity of
the system of legislation, but also the afflicting spirit of
competition and opposition with which railway bills are canvassed
in Parliament, and the expensive outlay incurred by companies
themselves.</p>
<p>&ldquo;In 1845, a bill for a line now existing went before
Parliament with eighteen competitors, each party relying on the
wisdom of Parliament to allow their bill at least to pass a
second reading!&nbsp; Nineteen different parties condemned to
<!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
102</span>one scene of contentious litigation!&nbsp; They each
and all had to pay not only the costs of promoting their own
line, but also the costs of opposing eighteen other bills.&nbsp;
And yet conscious as government must have been of this fact,
Parliament deliberately abandoned the only step it ever took on
any occasion of subjecting railway projects to investigation by a
preliminary tribunal.&nbsp; Parliamentary committees generally
satisfied themselves with looking on and watching the ruinous
game of competition for which the public are ultimately to
pay.&nbsp; In fact, railway legislation became a mere scramble,
conducted on no system or principle.&nbsp; Schemes of sound
character were allowed to be defeated on merely technical
grounds, and others of very inferior character were sanctioned by
public act, after enormous Parliamentary expenses had been
incurred.&nbsp; Competing lines were granted, sometimes parallel
lines through the same district, and between the same
towns.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN EXPENSIVE PARLIAMENTARY BILL.</h2>
<p>A writer in the <i>Popular Encyclop&aelig;dia</i>
observes:&mdash;&ldquo;But the most conspicuous example in recent
times, which overshadowed all others, of excessive expenditure in
Parliamentary litigation as well as in land and compensation, is
supplied in the history of the Great Northern Company.&nbsp; The
preliminary expenses of surveys, notices to landowners, etc.,
commenced in 1844, and the Bill was introduced into the House of
Commons in 1845, when it was opposed by the London and
North-Western, the Eastern Counties, and the Midland
Railways.&nbsp; It was further opposed successively by two other
schemes, called the London and York and the Direct
Northern.&nbsp; The contest lasted eighty-two days before the
House of Commons, more than half the time having been consumed by
opposition to the Bill.&nbsp; The Bill was allowed to stand over
till next year (1846), when it began, before the Committee of the
House of Lords, where it left off in the Lower House in the year
1845 on account of the magnitude of the case.&nbsp; The Bill was
before the Upper House between three and four weeks, and in the
same year (1846) it was granted.&nbsp; The promoters of the rival
projects were bought off, and all their expenses paid, including
the costs of the opposition of the neighbouring <!-- page
103--><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
103</span>lines already named, before the Great Northern bill was
passed; and the &lsquo;preliminary expenses,&rsquo; comprising
the whole expenditure of every kind up to the passing of the bill
was &pound;590,355, or more than half-a-million sterling,
incurred at the end of two years of litigation.&nbsp;
Subsequently to the passing of the Act an additional sum of
&pound;172,722 was expended for law engineering expenses in
Parliament to 31st December, 1857, which was spent almost wholly
in obtaining leave from Parliament to make various
alterations.&nbsp; Thus it would appear that a sum total of
&pound;763,077 was spent as Parliamentary charges for obtaining
leave to construct 245 miles, being at the rate of &pound;3,118
per mile.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE RECTOR AND HIS PIG.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;I have been a rector for many years,&rdquo; writes a
clergyman, &ldquo;and have often heard and read of tithe-pigs,
though I have never met with a specimen of them.&nbsp; But I had
once a little pig given to me which was of a choice breed, and
only just able to leave his mother.&nbsp; I had to convey him by
carriage to the X station; from thence, twenty-three miles to Y
station, and from thence, eighty-two miles to Z station, and from
there, eight miles by carriage.&nbsp; I had a comfortable
rabbit-hutch of a box made for him, with a supply of fresh
cabbages for his dinner on the road.&nbsp; I started off with my
wife, children, and nurse; and of these impediments piggy proved
to be the most formidable.&nbsp; First, a council of war was held
over him at X station by the railway officials, who finally
decided that this small porker must travel as &lsquo;two
dogs.&rsquo;&nbsp; Two dog tickets were therefore procured for
him; and so we journeyed on to Y station.&nbsp; There a second
council of war was held, and the officials of Y said that the
officials of X (another line) might be prosecuted for charging my
piggy as two dogs, but that he must travel to Z as a horse, and
that he must have a huge horse-box entirely to himself for the
next eighty-two miles.&nbsp; I declined to pay for the
horse-box&mdash;they refused to let me have my
pig&mdash;officials swarmed around me&mdash;the station master
advised me to pay for the horse-box and probably the company
would return the extra charge.&nbsp; I scorned the probability,
having no faith in the company&mdash;the train (it was a London
express) was <!-- page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 104</span>already detained ten minutes by this
wrangle; and finally I whirled away bereft of my pig.&nbsp; I
felt sure that he would be forwarded by the next train, but as
that would not reach Z till a late hour in the evening, and it
was Saturday, I had to tell my pig tale to the officials; and not
only so, but to go to the adjacent hotel and hire a pig-stye till
the Monday, and fee a porter for seeing to the pig until I could
send a cart for him on that day.&nbsp; Of course the pig was sent
after me by the next train; and as the charge for him was less
than a halfpenny a mile, I presume he was not considered to be a
horse.&nbsp; Yet this fact remains&mdash;and it is worth the
attention of the Zoological Society, if not of railway
officials&mdash;that this small porker was never recognised as a
pig, but began his railway journey as two dogs, and was then
changed into a horse.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SIR MORTON PETO&rsquo;S RAILWAY MISSION.</h2>
<p>Mr., afterwards Sir S. Morton Peto, having undertaken the
construction of certain railways in East Anglia, was at this time
in the habit of spending a considerable part of the year in the
neighbourhood of Norwich, and, with his family, joined Mr.
Brock&rsquo;s congregation.&nbsp; It will afterwards appear how
many important movements turned upon the friendship which was
thus formed; but it is only now to be noted that, in the course
of frequent conversations, the practicability was discussed of
attempting something which might serve to interest and improve
the large number of labourers employed on the works in
progress.&nbsp; They were part of that peculiar body of men which
had been gradually formed during a long course of years for
employment in the construction, first of navigable canals, and
then of railways, and called, from their earlier occupation,
&ldquo;navvies.&rdquo;&nbsp; They were drawn from diverse parts
of the British Islands, and professed, in some instances, hostile
forms of religion, but were distinguished chiefly by extreme
ignorance and all but total spiritual insensibility.&nbsp; They
had, at the same time, a common life and an unwritten law,
affecting their relations to each other, their employers, and the
rest of the world.&nbsp; That they were accessible to kind
attentions&mdash;clearly disinterested&mdash;followed from their
being men, but they required to be approached with the greatest
caution and patience.&nbsp; <!-- page 105--><a
name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>Mr.
Brock&rsquo;s wide and various sympathy, joined with his
friend&rsquo;s steady support, led&mdash;under the divine
blessing&mdash;to measures which proved very successful.&nbsp;
Mr. Peto constructed commodious halls capable of being moved
onward as the line of railway advanced, and affording comfortable
shelter for the men in their leisure hours, and furnished with
books and publications supplying amusement, useful information,
and religious knowledge.&nbsp; To give life to this apparatus,
Christian men, carefully selected, mingled familiarly with the
rude but grateful toilers, helping them to read and write,
encouraging them to acquire self-command, and above all,
especially when they were convened on Sundays, presenting and
pressing home upon them the words of eternal life.</p>
<p>Mr. Brock had liberty to draw on the &ldquo;Railway Mission
Account,&rdquo; at the Norwich Bank, to any extent that he found
necessary, and in a short time he had a body of the best men, he
was accustomed to say, that he ever knew at work upon all the
chief points of the lines.&nbsp; No part of his now extended
labours gave him greater delight than in superintending these
missionaries, reading their weekly journals, arranging their
periodical movements, counselling and comforting them in their
difficulties, and visiting them, sometimes apart and at other
times at conferences for united consultation and prayer, held at
Yarmouth, Ely, or March.</p>
<p>Results of the best character, of which the record is on high,
arose out of these operations.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Birrell&rsquo;s <i>Life of
the Rev. W. Brock</i>, <i>D.D.</i></p>
<h2>CLEVER CAPTURE.</h2>
<p>A few days ago (1845), a gentleman left Glasgow in one of the
day trains, with a large sum of money about his person.&nbsp; On
the train arriving at the Edinburgh terminus, the gentleman left
it, along with the other passengers, on foot for some
distance.&nbsp; It was not long, however, before he discovered
that his pocket book, containing &pound;700, in bank notes was
missing.&nbsp; He immediately returned to the terminus, where the
first person he happened to find was the stoker of the train that
had brought him to Edinburgh, who, on being spoken to, remembered
seeing the gentleman leaving the terminus, and another person
following close behind him, whom he supposed to be his servant;
he further <!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 106</span>stated, that the supposed servant
had started to return with the train which had just left for
Glasgow.&nbsp; The gentleman immediately ordered an express
train, but as some time elapsed before the steam could be got up,
it was feared the gentleman and the stoker would not reach
Glasgow in time to secure the culprit.&nbsp; However, having gone
the distance in about an hour, they had the satisfaction of
seeing the train before them close to the Cowlairs station, just
about to descend the inclined plane and tunnel, and thus within a
mile and a half of the end of their journey.&nbsp; The stoker
immediately sounded his whistle, which induced the conductor of
the passenger train to conclude that some danger was in the way,
who had his train removed to the other line of rails, which left
the road then quite clear for the express train, which drove past
the other with great speed, and arrived at the terminus in
sufficient time to get everything ready for the apprehension of
the robber.&nbsp; The stoker, who thought he could identify the
robber, assisted the police in searching the passenger train,
when the person whom he had taken for the gentleman&rsquo;s
servant was found with the pocket book and also the &pound;700
safe and untouched.&nbsp; The gentleman then offered a handsome
reward to the stoker, who refused it on the plea that he had only
done his duty; not satisfied, however, with this answer, he left
&pound;100 with the manager, requesting him to pay the expenses
of the express train, and particularly to reward the stoker for
his activity, and to remit the remainder to his address.&nbsp;
Shortly after he received the whole &pound;100, accompanied with
a polite note, declining any payment for the express train, and
stating that it was the duty of the company to reward the stoker,
which they would not omit to do.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Stirling Journal</i>.</p>
<h2>COMPENSATION FOR LAND.</h2>
<p>Mr. Williams, in <i>Our Iron Roads</i>, gives much interesting
information upon the subject of compensation for land and buying
off opposition to railway schemes.&nbsp; He
says:&mdash;&ldquo;One noble lord had an estate near a proposed
line of railway, and on this estate was a beautiful
mansion.&nbsp; Naturally averse to the desecration of his home
and its neighbourhood, he gave his most uncompromising opposition
to the Bill, <!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 107</span>and found, in the Committee of both
Houses, sympathizing listeners.&nbsp; Little did it aid the
projectors that they urged that the line did not pass within six
miles of that princely domain; that the high road was much closer
to his dwelling; and that, as the spot nearest the house would be
passed by means of a tunnel, no unsightliness would arise.&nbsp;
But no; no worldly consideration affected the decision of the
proprietor; and, arguments failing, it was found that an appeal
must be made to other means.&nbsp; His opposition was ultimately
bought off for twenty-eight thousand pounds, to be paid when the
railway reached his neighbourhood.&nbsp; Time wore on, funds
became scarce, and the company found that it would be best to
stop short at a particular portion of their line, long before
they reached the estate of the noble lord who had so violently
opposed their Bill, by which they sought to be released from the
obligation of constructing the line which had been so obnoxious
to him.&nbsp; What was their surprise at finding this very man
their chief opponent, and then fresh means had to be adopted for
silencing his objections!</p>
<p>&ldquo;A line had to be brought near to the property of a
certain Member of Parliament.&nbsp; It threatened no injury to
the estate, either by affecting its appearance or its intrinsic
worth; and, on the other hand, it afforded him a cheap,
convenient, and expeditious means of communication with the
metropolis.&nbsp; But the proprietor, being a legislator, had
power at head-quarters, and by his influence he nearly turned the
line of railway aside; and this deviation would have cost the
projectors the sum of <i>sixty thousand pounds</i>.&nbsp; Now it
so happened that the house of this honourable member, who had
thus insisted on such costly deference to his peculiar feelings
respecting his property, was afflicted with the dry rot, and
threatened every hour to fall upon the head of its owner.&nbsp;
To pull down and rebuild it, would require the sum of thirty
thousand pounds.&nbsp; The idea of compromise, beneficial to both
parties, suggested itself.&nbsp; If the railway company rebuilt
the house, or paid &pound;30,000 to the owner of the estate, and
were allowed to pursue their original line, it was clear that
they would be &pound;30,000 the richer, as the enforced deviation
would cost &pound;60,000; and, on the other hand, the owner of
the estate <!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 108</span>would obtain a secure house, or
receive &pound;30,000 in money.&nbsp; The proposed bargain was
struck, and &pound;30,000 was paid by the Company.&nbsp;
&lsquo;How can you live in that house,&rsquo; said some friend to
him afterwards, &lsquo;with the railroad coming so
near?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Had it not done so,&rsquo; was the
reply, &lsquo;I could not have lived in it at all.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;One rather original character sold some land to the
London and Birmingham Company, and was loud and long in his
outcries for compensation, expatiating on the damages which the
formation of the line would inevitably bring to his
property.&nbsp; His complaints were only stopped by the payment
of his demands.&nbsp; A few months afterwards, a little
additional land was required from the same individual, when he
actually demanded a much larger price for the new land than was
given him before; and, on surprise being expressed at the charge
for that which he had declared would inevitably be greatly
deteriorated in value from the proximity of the railway, he
coolly replied: &lsquo;Oh, I made a mistake <i>then</i>, in
thinking the railway would injure my property; it has increased
its value, and of course you must pay me an increased price for
it.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;On one occasion, a trial occurred in which an eminent
land valuer was put into the witness box to swell the amount of
damages, and he proceeded to expatiate on the injury committed by
railroads in general, and especially by the one in question, in
<i>cutting up</i> the properties they invaded.&nbsp; When he had
finished the delivery of this weighty piece of evidence, the
counsel for the Company put a newspaper into his hand, and asked
him whether he had not inserted a certain advertisement
therein.&nbsp; The fact was undeniable, and on being read aloud,
it proved to be a declaration by the land valuer himself, that
the approach of the railway which he had come there to oppose,
would prove exceedingly beneficial to some property in its
immediate vicinity then on sale.</p>
<p>&ldquo;An illustration of the difference between the
exorbitant demands made by parties for compensation, and the real
value of the property, may be mentioned.&nbsp; The first claim
made by the Directors of the Glasgow Lunatic Asylum on the
Edinburgh and Glasgow railway is stated to have been no less than
&pound;44,000.&nbsp; Before the trial came on, this sum was
reduced to &pound;10,000; the amount awarded by the jury was
&pound;873.</p>
<p><!-- page 109--><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
109</span>&ldquo;The opposition thus made, whether feigned or
real, it was always advisable to remove; and the money paid for
this purpose, though ostensibly in the purchase of the ground,
has been on many occasions immense.&nbsp; Sums of &pound;35,000,
&pound;40,000, &pound;50,000, &pound;100,000, and &pound;120,000,
have thus been paid; while various ingenious plans have been
adopted of removing the opposition of influential men.&nbsp; An
honourable member is said to have received &pound;30,000 to
withdraw his opposition to a Bill before the House; and
&lsquo;not far off the celebrated year 1845, a lady of title, so
gossip talks, asked a certain nobleman to support a certain Bill,
stating that, if he did, she had the authority of the secretary
of a great company to inform him that fifty shares in a certain
railway, then at a considerable premium, would be at his
disposal.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;One pleasing circumstance, however, highly honourable
to the gentleman concerned, must not be omitted.&nbsp; The late
Mr. Labouchere had made an agreement with the Eastern Counties
Company for a passage through his estate near Chelmsford, for the
price of &pound;35,000; his son and successor, the Right
Honourable Henry Labouchere, finding that the property was not
deteriorated to the anticipated extent, voluntarily returned
&pound;15,000.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The practice of buying off opposition has not been
confined to the proprietors of land.&nbsp; We learn from one of
the Parliamentary Reports that in a certain district a
pen-and-ink warfare between two rival companies ran so high, and
was, at least on one side, rewarded with such success, that the
friends of the older of the two projected lines thought it
expedient to enter into treaty with their literary opponent, and
its editor very soon retired on a fortune.&nbsp; It is also
asserted, on good authority, that, in a midland county, the facts
and arguments of an editor were wielded with such vigour that the
opposing company found it necessary to adopt extraordinary means
on the occasion.&nbsp; Bribes were offered, but refused; an
opposition paper was started, but its conductors quailed before
the energy of their opponent, and it produced little effect;
every scheme that ingenuity could devise, and money carry out,
was attempted, but they successively and utterly failed.&nbsp; At
length a Director hit on a truly Machiavellian plan&mdash;he was
introduced to the proprietor of <!-- page 110--><a
name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>the
journal, whom he cautiously informed that he wished to risk a few
thousands in newspaper property, and actually induced his
unconscious victim to sell the property, unknown to the
editor.&nbsp; When the bargain was concluded, the plot was
discovered; but it was then too late, and the wily Director took
possession of the copyright of the paper and the printing office
on behalf of the company.&nbsp; The services of the editor,
however, were not to be bought, he refused to barter away his
independence, and retired&mdash;taking with him the respect of
both friends and enemies.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A LANDOWNER&rsquo;S OPPOSITION.</h2>
<p>In <i>Herepath&rsquo;s Railway Journal</i> for 1845 we meet
with the following:&mdash;&ldquo;A learned counsel, the other
day, gave as a reason for a wealthy and aristocratic
landowner&rsquo;s opposition to a great line of railway
approaching his residence by something more than a mile distance,
that &lsquo;His Lordship rode horses that would not bear the puff
of a steam engine.&rsquo;&nbsp; Truly this was a most potent
reason, and one that should weigh heavily against the scheme in
the minds of the Committee.&nbsp; His Lordship has a wood some
two miles off, between which and his residence this railway is
intended to pass.&nbsp; His lordship is fond of amusing himself
there in hunting down little animals called hares, and sometimes
treats himself to a stag hunt.&nbsp; Not the slightest
interference is contemplated with his lordship&rsquo;s pastime,
or rather pursuit, for such it is, occupying nearly his whole
time, and exercising all the ability of which he is possessed;
but still he objects to the intrusion.&nbsp; The bridge that is
to be constructed by the Company to give access to the wood, or
forest, is in itself all that could be wished, forming, rather
than otherwise, an ornamental structure to his lordship&rsquo;s
grounds; but then he fears that should an engine chance (of
course, these chances are not within his control) to pass under
the bridge at the same moment as he is passing over, his high
blood horses would prance and rear, and suffer injury
therefrom.&nbsp; His lordship is very careful and proud of his
horse-flesh, and thinks it hard, and what the legislature ought
not to tolerate, that they (his horses) are to be worried, or
subjected to the chance of it, by making a railway to serve the
public wants!</p>
<p><!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
111</span>&ldquo;This <i>noble</i> man is of opinion, too, that,
should the railway be made, he is entitled to an enormous amount
of compensation; and, through his agent, assigns as a reason for
his extravagant demand&mdash;we do not exaggerate the
fact&mdash;that he is averse to railways in general, and
considers the system as an unjustifiable invasion of the province
of horse-flesh.&nbsp; This horse jockey lord thereby excuses his
conscience in opposing and endeavouring to plunder the railway
company as far as he possibly can.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>PICTURE EVIDENCE.</h2>
<p>Amongst laughable occurrences that enlivened the committee
rooms during the gauge contest, was a scene occasioned by a
parliamentary counsel putting in as evidence, before the
committee on the Southampton and Manchester line, a printed
picture of troubles consequent on a break of gauge.&nbsp; The
picture was a forcible sketch that had appeared a few days before
in the pages of the <i>Illustrated London News</i>.&nbsp;
Opposing counsel of course argued against the production of the
work of art as testimony for the consideration of the
committee.&nbsp; After much argument on both sides the chairman
decided in favour of receiving the illustration, which was
forthwith put, amidst much laughter, into the hands of a witness,
who was asked if it was a fair picture of the evils that arose
from a break of gauge.&nbsp; The witness replying in the
affirmative, the engraving was then laid before the committee for
inspection.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Railway Chronicle</i>,
June 13, 1846.</p>
<h2>EXTRAORDINARY USE OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.</h2>
<p>Oct. 7, 1847.&nbsp; An extraordinary instance has occurred of
the application of the electric telegraph at the London Bridge
terminus of the South Eastern Railway.</p>
<p>Hutchings, the man found guilty and sentenced to death for
poisoning his wife, was to have been executed at Maidstone Goal
at twelve o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; Shortly before the appointed hour
for carrying the sentence into effect, a message was received at
the London Bridge terminus, from the Home Office, requesting that
an order should be sent by the electric telegraph instructing the
Under-Sheriff at <!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 112</span>Maidstone to stay the execution two
hours.&nbsp; By the agency of the electric telegraph the
communication was received in Maidstone with the usual rapidity,
and the execution was for a time stayed.&nbsp; Shortly after the
transmission of the order deferring the execution, a messenger
from the Home Office conveyed to the railway the Secretary of
State&rsquo;s order, that the law was to take its course, and
that the culprit was to be at once executed.&nbsp; The telegraph
clerk hesitated to sending such a message without instructions
from his principals.&nbsp; The messenger from the Home Office
could not be certain that the order for Hutchings&rsquo;s
execution was signed by the Home Secretary, although it bore his
name; and Mr. Macgregor, the chairman, with great judgment and
humanity, instantly decided that it was not a sufficient
authority in such a momentous matter.</p>
<p>An officer of confidence was immediately sent to the Secretary
of State, to state their hesitation and its cause, as the message
was, in fact, a death warrant, and that Mr. Walter must have
undoubted evidence of its correctness.&nbsp; On Mr. Walter
drawing the attention of the Secretary of State to the fact, that
the transmission of such a message was, in effect, to make him
the Sheriff, the conduct of the railway company, in requiring
unquestionable evidence and authority, was warmly approved.&nbsp;
The proper signature was affixed in Mr. Walter&rsquo;s presence;
and the telegraph then conveyed to the criminal the sad news,
that the suspension of the awful sentence was only
temporary.&nbsp; Hutchings was executed soon after it reached
Maidstone.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Annual Register</i>,
1847.</p>
<h2>LOST LUGGAGE.</h2>
<p>Sir Francis Head, giving an account of the contents of the
Lost Luggage Office, at Euston Station,
observes:&mdash;&ldquo;But there were a few articles that
certainly we were not prepared to meet with, and which but too
clearly proved that the extraordinary terminus-excitement which
had suddenly caused so many virtuous ladies to elope from their
red shawls&mdash;in short, to be all of a sudden not only in
&lsquo;a bustle&rsquo; behind, but all over&mdash;had equally
affected men of all sorts and conditions.</p>
<p><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
113</span>&ldquo;One gentleman had left behind him a pair of
leather hunting breeches! another his boot-jacks!&nbsp; A soldier
of the 22nd regiment had left his knapsack containing his
kit.&nbsp; Another soldier of the 10th, poor fellow, had left his
scarlet regimental coat!&nbsp; Some cripple, probably overjoyed
at the sight of his family, had left behind him his
crutches!!&nbsp; But what astonished us above all was, that some
honest Scotchman, probably in the ecstasy of suddenly seeing
among the crowd the face of his faithful <i>Jeanie</i>, had
actually left behind him the best portion of his bagpipes!!!</p>
<p>&ldquo;Some little time ago the superintendent, on breaking
open, previous to a general sale, a locked leather hat-box, which
had lain in this dungeon two years, found in it, under the hat,
&pound;65 in Bank of England notes, with one or two private
letters, which enabled him to restore the money to the owner,
who, it turned out, had been so positive that had left his
hat-box at an hotel at Birmingham that he made no inquiry for it
at the railway office.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>VERY NICE TO BE A RAILWAY ENGINEER.</h2>
<p>A lady in conversation with a railway engineer observed,
&ldquo;It must be very nice to be a railway engineer, and be able
to travel about anywhere you want to go to for
nothing.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, madam,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;It would, as
you say, be very nice to travel about for nothing, <i>if we were
not paid for it</i>.&nbsp; But you see,&rdquo; he remarked,
&ldquo;railway engineers are like the cabman&rsquo;s horse.&nbsp;
The cabman has a very thin horse.&nbsp; &lsquo;Doesn&rsquo;t your
horse have enough to eat?&rsquo; inquired a benevolent lady
passenger.&nbsp; &lsquo;Oh yes, ma&rsquo;am,&rsquo; replied
cabby, &lsquo;I give him lots o&rsquo; victuals to eat, only, you
see, he hasn&rsquo;t any time to eat &rsquo;em.&rsquo;&nbsp; So
it is with the railway engineer; he has lots of pleasure of all
kinds, only he has not any time to take it.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN ACCOMMODATING CONTRACTOR.</h2>
<p>One railway of some scores of miles hung fire; the directors
were congested with their fears of exceeding the estimates, and
so a shrewd man of business, a contractor, i.e., a man with a
mind contracted to profit and a keen eye to discern the paths of
profit, called on them.&nbsp; This man <!-- page 114--><a
name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>had made
his way upward, and passing through the process of
sub-contracting, had obtained a glimpse of the upper
glories.&nbsp; And thus he relieved the directors from their
difficulties, by proffering to make the railway complete in all
its parts, buy the land at the commencement, and, if required, to
engage the station-clerks at the conclusion, with all the staff
complete, so that his patrons might have no trouble, but begin
business off-hand.&nbsp; But the latter condition&mdash;the staff
and clerks&mdash;being simply a matter of patronage, the
directors kept that trouble in their own hands.</p>
<p>Our contractor loomed on the directors&rsquo; minds as a
guardian angel, a guarantee against responsibilities, backed by
sufficient sureties, so the matter was without delay handed over
to him, and he knew what to do with it.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Roads and Rails</i>, by W.
B. Adams.</p>
<h2>THE TWO DUKES AND THE TRAVELLER.</h2>
<p>The following amusing anecdote is related of a commercial
traveller who happened to get into the same railway carriage in
which the Dukes of Argyle and Northumberland were
travelling.&nbsp; The three chatted familiarly until the train
stopped at Alnwick Junction, where the Duke of Northumberland got
out, and was met by a train of flunkeys and servants.&nbsp;
&ldquo;That must be a great swell,&rdquo; said the
&ldquo;commercial,&rdquo; to his remaining companion.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; responded the Duke of Argyle, &ldquo;he is the
Duke of Northumberland.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Bless my soul!&rdquo;
exclaimed the &ldquo;commercial.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;And to think
that he should have been so condescending to two little snobs
like us!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE GREAT RAILWAY MANIA DAY.</h2>
<p>Never had there occurred, in the history of joint-stock
enterprise, such another day as the 30th of November, 1845.&nbsp;
It was the day on which a madness for speculation arrived at its
height, to be followed by a collapse terrible to many thousand
families.&nbsp; Railways had been gradually becoming successful,
and the old companies had, in many cases, bought off, on very
high terms, rival lines which threatened to interfere with their
profits.&nbsp; Both of these circumstances tended <!-- page
115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>to
encourage the concoction of new schemes.&nbsp; There is always
floating capital in England waiting for profitable employment;
there are always professional men looking out for employment in
great engineering works; and there are always scheming moneyless
men ready to trade on the folly of others.&nbsp; Thus the bankers
and capitalists were willing to supply the capital; the
engineers, surveyors, architects, contractors, builders,
solicitors, barristers, and Parliamentary agents were willing to
supply the brains and fingers; while, too often, cunning schemers
pulled the strings.&nbsp; This was especially the case in 1845,
when plans for new railways were brought forward literally by
hundreds, and with a recklessness perfectly marvellous.</p>
<p>By an enactment in force at that time, it was necessary, for
the prosecution of any railway scheme in Parliament, that a mass
of documents should be deposited with the Board of Trade, on or
before the 30th of November in the preceding year.&nbsp; The
multitude of these schemes in 1845 was so great that there could
not be found surveyors enough to prepare the plans and sections
in time.&nbsp; Advertisements were inserted in the newspapers
offering enormous pay for even a smattering of this kind of
skill.&nbsp; Surveyors and architects from abroad were attracted
to England; young men at home were tempted to break the articles
into which they had entered with their masters; and others were
seduced from various professions into that of railway
engineers.&nbsp; Sixty persons in the employment of the Ordnance
Department left their situations to gain enormous earnings in
this way.&nbsp; There were desperate fights in various parts of
England between property-owners who were determined that their
land should not be entered upon for the purpose of railway
surveying, and surveyors who knew that the schemes of their
companies would be frustrated unless the surveys were made and
the plans deposited by the 30th of November.&nbsp; To attain this
end, force, fraud, and bribery were freely made use of.&nbsp; The
30th of November, 1845, fell on a Sunday; but it was no Sunday at
the office near the Board of Trade.&nbsp; Vehicles were driving
up during the whole of the day, with agents and clerks bringing
plans and sections.&nbsp; In country districts, as the day
approached, and on the morning of the day, coaches-and-four were
in <!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
116</span>greater request than even at race-time, galloping at
full speed to the nearest railway station.&nbsp; On the Great
Western Railway an express train was hired by the agents of one
new scheme.&nbsp; The engine broke down; the train came to a
stand-still at Maidenhead, and, in this state, was run into by
another express train hired by the agents of a rival project; the
opposite parties barely escaped with their lives, but contrived
to reach London at the last moment.&nbsp; On this eventful Sunday
there were no fewer than ten of these express trains on the Great
Western Railway, and eighteen on the Eastern Counties!&nbsp; One
railway company was unable to deposit its papers because another
company surreptitiously bought, for a high sum, twenty of the
necessary sheets from the lithographic printer, and horses were
killed in madly running about in search of the missing documents
before the fraud was discovered.&nbsp; In some cases the
lithographic stones were stolen; and in one instance the printer
was bribed, by a large sum, not to finish in proper time the
plans for a rival line.&nbsp; One eminent house brought over four
hundred lithographic printers from Belgium, and even then, and
with these, all the work ordered could not be executed.&nbsp;
Some of the plans were only two-thirds lithographed, the rest
being filled up by hand.&nbsp; However executed, the problem was
to get these documents to Whitehall before midnight on the 30th
of November.&nbsp; Two guineas a mile were in one instance paid
for post-horses.&nbsp; One express train steamed up to London 118
miles in an hour-and-a-half, nearly 80 miles an hour.&nbsp; An
established company having refused an express train to the
promoters of a rival scheme, the latter employed persons to get
up a mock funeral cortege, and engage an express train to convey
it to London; they did so, and the plans and sections came <i>in
the hearse</i>, with solicitors and surveyors as mourners!</p>
<p>Copies of many of the documents had to be deposited with the
clerks of the peace of the counties to which the schemes
severally related, as well as with the Board of Trade; and at
some of the offices of these clerks, strange scenes occurred on
the Sunday.&nbsp; At Preston, the doors of the office were not
opened, as the officials considered the orders which had been
issued to keep open on that particular Sunday, to apply only to
the Board of Trade; but a crowd of law agents and surveyors
assembled, broke the <!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 117</span>windows, and threw their plans and
sections into the office.&nbsp; At the Board of Trade, extra
clerks were employed on that day, and all went pretty smoothly
until nine o&rsquo;clock in the evening.&nbsp; A rule was laid
down for receiving the plans and sections, hearing a few words of
explanation from the agents, and making certain entries in
books.&nbsp; But at length the work accumulated more rapidly than
the clerks could attend to it, and the agents arrived in greater
number than the entrance hall could hold.&nbsp; The anxiety was
somewhat allayed by an announcement, that whoever was inside the
building before the clock struck twelve should be deemed in good
time.&nbsp; Many of the agents bore the familiar name of Smith;
and when &lsquo;Mr. Smith&rsquo; was summoned by the messenger to
enter and speak concerning some scheme, the name of which was not
announced, in rushed several persons, of whom, of course, only
one could be the right Mr. Smith at that particular moment.&nbsp;
One agent arrived while the clock was striking twelve, and was
admitted.&nbsp; Soon afterwards, a carriage with reeking horses
drove up; three agents rushed out, and finding the door closed,
rang furiously at the bell; no sooner did a policeman open the
door to say that the time was past, than the agents threw their
bundles of plans and sections through the half-opened door into
the hall; but this was not permitted, and the policeman threw the
documents out into the street.&nbsp; The baffled agents were
nearly maddened with vexation; for they had arrived in London
from Harwich in good time, and had been driven about Pimlico
hither and thither, by a post-boy who did not, or would not, know
the way to the office of the Board of Trade.</p>
<p>The <i>Times</i> newspaper, in the same month, devoted three
whole pages to an elaborate analysis, by Mr. Spackman, of the
various railway schemes brought forward in 1845.&nbsp;
&ldquo;There were no less than 620 in number, involving an
(hypothetical) expenditure of 560 millions sterling; besides 643
other schemes which had not gone further than issuing
prospectuses.&nbsp; More than 500 of the schemes went through all
the stages necessary for being brought before Parliament; and 272
of these became Acts of Parliament in 1846&mdash;to the ruin of
thousands who had afterwards to find the money to fulfil the
engagements into which they had so rashly entered.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Chambers&rsquo;s Book of
Days</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 118</span>PARODY UPON THE RAILWAY MANIA.</h2>
<p>About the time of the bursting of the railway bubble, or the
collapse of the mania of 1844&ndash;5, the following clever lines
appeared:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;There was a sound of revelry by
night.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Childe Harold</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;There was a sound that ceased not day or night,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; Of speculation.&nbsp; London gathered then<br />
Unwonted crowds, and moved by promise bright,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; To Capel-court rushed women, boys, and men,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; All seeking railway shares and scrip; and when<br />
The market rose, how many a lad could tell,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; With joyous glance, and eyes that spake again,<br />
&rsquo;Twas e&rsquo;en more lucrative than marrying
well;&mdash;<br />
When, hark! that warning voice strikes like a rising knell.</p>
<p>Nay, it is nothing, empty as the wind,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; But a &lsquo;bear&rsquo; whisper down
Throgmorton-street;<br />
Wild enterprise shall still be unconfined;<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; No rest for us, when rising premiums greet<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; The morn to pour their treasures at our feet;<br />
When, hark! that solemn sound is heard once more,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; The gathering &lsquo;bears&rsquo; its echoes yet
repeat&mdash;<br />
&rsquo;Tis but too true, is now the general roar,<br />
The Bank has raised her rate, as she has done before.</p>
<p>And then and there were hurryings to and fro,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; And anxious thoughts, and signs of sad distress<br
/>
Faces all pale, that but an hour ago<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; Smiled at the thoughts of their own craftiness.<br
/>
&nbsp;&nbsp; And there were sudden partings, such as press<br />
The coin from hungry pockets&mdash;mutual sighs<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp; Of brokers and their clients.&nbsp; Who can guess<br
/>
How many a stag already panting flies,<br />
When upon times so bright such awful panics rise?&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>RAILWAY FACILITIES FOR BUSINESS.</h2>
<p>A gentleman went to Liverpool in the morning, purchased, and
took back with him to Manchester, 150 tons of cotton, which he
sold, and afterwards obtained an order for a similar
quantity.&nbsp; He went again, and actually, that same evening,
delivered the second quantity in Manchester, &ldquo;having
travelled 120 miles in four separate journeys, and bought, sold,
and delivered, 30 miles off, at two distinct deliveries, 300 tons
of goods, in about 12 hours.&rdquo;&nbsp; The occurrence is
perfectly astounding; and, had it been hinted at fifty years ago,
would have been deemed impossible.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Railway Magazine</i>,
1840.</p>
<h2><!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 119</span>RAILWAYS AND THE POST-OFFICE.</h2>
<p>It might naturally be thought that the new and quicker means
of transport afforded by the railway would be eagerly utilised by
the Post-office.&nbsp; There were, however, difficulties on both
sides.&nbsp; The railway companies objected to running trains
during the night, and the old stage-coach offered the advantage
of greater regularity.&nbsp; The railway was quicker, but was at
least occasionally uncertain.&nbsp; Thus, in November, 1837, the
four daily mail trains between Liverpool and Birmingham on ten
occasions arrived before the specified time, on eight occasions
were exact to time, and on 102 occasions varied in lateness of
arrival from five minutes to five hours and five minutes.&nbsp;
There were all sorts of mishaps and long delays by train.&nbsp;
The mail guard, like the passenger guard, rode outside the train
with a box before him called an &ldquo;imperial,&rdquo; which
contained the letters and papers entrusted to his charge.&nbsp;
In very stormy weather the mail guard would prop up the lid of
his imperial and get inside for shelter.&nbsp; On one occasion
when the mail arrived at Liverpool the guard was found imprisoned
in his letter-box.&nbsp; The lid had fallen and fastened in the
male travesty of &ldquo;Ginevra.&rdquo;&nbsp; Fortunately for him
it was a burlesque and not a tragedy.&nbsp; Bags thrown to the
guards at wayside stations not unfrequently got under the wheels
of the train and the contents were cut to pieces.&nbsp; On one
occasion, on the Grand Junction, an engine failed through the
fire-bars coming out.&nbsp; The mails were removed from the train
and run on a platelayer&rsquo;s &ldquo;trolly,&rdquo; but
unfortunately the contents of the bags took fire and were
destroyed.&nbsp; But many of these mishaps were obviated by the
invention of Mr. Nathaniel Worsdell, a Liverpool coachbuilder, in
the service of the railway, who took out a patent in 1838 for an
appliance for picking up and dropping mail bags while the train
was at full speed.&nbsp; This is still used.&nbsp; The loads of
railway vehicles, it may be mentioned, were limited by law to
four tons until the passage of the 5 and 6 Vic., c. 55.&nbsp; In
1837, when the weight of the mails passing daily on the London
and Birmingham line was only about 14cwt., the late Sir Hardman
Earle suggested that a special compartment should be reserved for
the mail guard in which he could sort the letters <i>en
route</i>.&nbsp; The first vehicle specially <!-- page 120--><a
name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>set apart
for mail purposes was put upon the Grand Junction in 1838.&nbsp;
From this humble beginning has gradually developed the express
mails, in which the chief consideration is the swift transit of
correspondence, and which are therefore limited in the number of
the passengers they are allowed to carry.&nbsp; The cost of
carrying the mails in 1838 and 1839 between Manchester and
Liverpool by rail, including the guard&rsquo;s fare, averaged
about &pound;1 a trip, or half of the cost of sending them by
coach.&nbsp; The price paid to the Grand Junction for carriage of
mails between Manchester and Liverpool and Birmingham was 1d. a
mile for the guard and &frac34;d. per cwt. per mile for the
mails.&nbsp; This brought a revenue of about &pound;3,000 a
year.&nbsp; When the Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed and
carried the imposition of the passenger duty, in 1832, the
company intimated to the Post-office that they should advance the
mail guard&rsquo;s fare &frac12;d. per mile.&nbsp; In 1840 an
agreement was negotiated between the Post-office and railway
authorities to convey the mails between Lancashire and Birmingham
four times daily for &pound;19 10s. a day, with a penalty of
&pound;500 on the railway company in case of bad time
keeping.&nbsp; This agreement was not carried into effect.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Manchester
Guardian</i>.</p>
<h2>RAILWAY SIGNALS.</h2>
<p>The history of railway signals is a curious page in the annals
of practical science.&nbsp; For some years signals seem scarcely
to have been dreamt of.&nbsp; Holding up a hat or an umbrella was
at first sufficient to stop a train at an intermediate
station.&nbsp; At level crossings the gates had to stand closed
across the line of rails, and on the top bar hung a lamp to
indicate to drivers that the way was blocked.&nbsp; In 1839,
Colonel Landman, of the Croydon line, said that he should avoid
the danger at a junction during a fog by going slowly, tolling a
bell, beating a drum, or sounding a whistle.&nbsp; The first
junction signal was denominated a lighthouse.&nbsp; The
difficulties attending junctions may be judged of by the fact
that when the Bolton and Preston line was ready for opening it
was agreed that no train should attempt to enter or leave the
North Union line at Euxton junction <!-- page 121--><a
name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>within
fifteen minutes of a train being due on the main line which might
interfere with it.&nbsp; The movable rails at junctions had to be
removed by hand and fixed into position by hammer and pin.&nbsp;
Mr. Watts, engineer to the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, is
believed to have been one of the first to use the tapering
movable switch.&nbsp; One of Mr. Watts&rsquo;s men invented the
back weight, another designed the crank, while a third suggested
the long rod.&nbsp; These improvements were all about the year
1846.&nbsp; The first fixed signal set up at stations was an
ordinary round flag pole having a pulley on the top, upon which
was hoisted a green flag to stop a train and a red one to
indicate danger on the road.&nbsp; The night signal was a hand
lamp hoisted in the same way.&nbsp; These were superseded by a
signal on which an arm was worked at the end of a rod, and a
square lamp with two sides, red and white, having blinkers
working on hinges to shut out the light.&nbsp; These were used
until 1848.&nbsp; The semaphores only came into practical use
some 20 years ago, and it is remarkable that the first time they
were used on the Liverpool and Manchester line they were the
cause of a slight collision.&nbsp; The use of signal lights on
trains was much advanced by two accidents which occurred on the
North Union line on the 7th September, 1841.&nbsp; One of these
happened at Farrington, where two passenger trains came into
collision.&nbsp; The other happened at Euxton, where a coal train
ran into a stage coach which was taking passengers to
Southport.&nbsp; The Rev. Mr. Joy was killed, and several others,
including the station master, who lost one leg, were
injured.&nbsp; These were the first serious accidents
investigated by the now Government Inspector of Railways, Sir
Frederic Smith, who was appointed by the Board of Trade under
Lord Seymour&rsquo;s Act.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Manchester
Guardian</i>.</p>
<h2>FOG-SIGNALS.</h2>
<p>During the prevalence of fogs, when neither signal-posts nor
lights are of any use, detonating signals are frequently
employed, which are affixed to the rails, and exploded by the
iron tread of the advancing locomotive.&nbsp; All guards,
policemen, and pointsmen who are not appointed <!-- page 122--><a
name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>to
stations, and all enginemen, gatemen, gangers and platelayers,
and tunnel-men, are provided with packets of these signals, which
they are required always to have ready for use whilst on duty;
and every engine, on passing over one of these signals, is to be
immediately stopped, and the guards are to protect their train by
sending back and placing a similar signal on the line behind them
every two hundred yards, to the distance of six hundred yards;
the train may then proceed slowly to the place of
obstruction.&nbsp; When these detonating signals were first
invented, it was resolved to ascertain whether they acted
efficiently, and especially whether the noise they produced was
sufficient to be distinctly heard by the engine driver.&nbsp; One
of them was accordingly fixed to the rails on a particular line
by the authority of the company, and in due time the train having
passed over it, reached its destination.&nbsp; Here the engine
driver and his colleague were found to be in a state of great
alarm, in consequence of a supposed attack being made on them by
an assassin, who, they said, lay down beside the line of rails on
which they had passed, and deliberately fired at them.&nbsp; The
efficiency of the means having thus been tested, the
apprehensions of the enginemen were removed, though there was at
first evident mortification manifested that they had been made
the subjects of such a successful experiment.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;F. S. Williams&rsquo;s <i>Our
Iron Roads</i>.</p>
<h2>&ldquo;ALMOST DAR NOW.&rdquo;</h2>
<p>The following anecdote, illustrative of railroad facility, is
very pointed.&nbsp; A traveller inquired of a negro the distance
to a certain point.&nbsp; &ldquo;Dat &rsquo;pends on
circumstances,&rdquo; replied darkey.&nbsp; &ldquo;If you gwine
afoot, it&rsquo;ll take you about a day; if you gwine in de stage
or homneybus, you make it half a day; but if you get in one of
<i>dese smoke wagons</i>, you be almost dar now.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>WORDSWORTH&rsquo;S PROTEST.</h2>
<p>Lines written by Wordsworth as a protest against making a
railway from Kendal to Windermere:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Is there no nook of English ground
secure<br />
From rash assault?&nbsp; Schemes of retirement sown<br />
<!-- page 123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
123</span>In youth, and &rsquo;mid the world kept pure<br />
As when their earliest flowers of hope were blown,<br />
Must perish; how can they this blight endure?<br />
And must he, too, his old delights disown,<br />
Who scorns a false, utilitarian lure<br />
&rsquo;Mid his paternal fields at random thrown?<br />
Baffle the threat, bright scene, from Orrest-head,<br />
Given to the pausing traveller&rsquo;s rapturous glance!<br />
Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance<br />
Of nature; and if human hearts be dead,<br />
Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong<br />
And constant voice, protest against the wrong!&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>THE HON. EDWARD EVERETT&rsquo;S REPLY TO WORDSWORTH&rsquo;S
PROTEST.</h2>
<p>The Hon. Edward Everett in the course of his speech at the
Boston Railroad Jubilee in commemoration of the opening of
railroad communication between Boston and Canada, observed,
&ldquo;But, sir, as I have already said, it is not the material
results of this railroad system in which its happiest influences
are seen.&nbsp; I recollect that seven or eight years ago there
was a project to carry a railroad into the lake country in
England&mdash;into the heart of Westmoreland and
Cumberland.&nbsp; Mr. Wordsworth, the lately deceased poet, a
resident in the centre of this region, opposed the project.&nbsp;
He thought that the retirement and seclusion of this delightful
region would be disturbed by the panting of the locomotive and
the cry of the steam whistle.&nbsp; If I am not mistaken, he
published one or two sonnets in deprecation of the
enterprise.&nbsp; Mr. Wordsworth was a kind-hearted man, as well
as a most distinguished poet, but he was entirely mistaken, as it
seems to me, in this matter.&nbsp; The quiet of a few spots may
be disturbed, but a hundred quiet spots are rendered
accessible.&nbsp; The bustle of the station-house may take the
place of the Druidical silence of some shady dell; but, Gracious
Heavens, sir, how many of those verdant cathedral arches,
entwined by the hand of God in our pathless woods, are opened to
the grateful worship of man by these means of communication?</p>
<p>&ldquo;How little of rural beauty you lose, even in a country
of comparatively narrow dimensions like England&mdash;how less
than little in a country so vast as this&mdash;by works of this
<!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
124</span>description.&nbsp; You lose a little strip along the
line of the road, which partially changes its character; while,
as the compensation, you bring all this rural beauty,</p>
<blockquote><p>&lsquo;The warbling woodland, the resounding
shore,<br />
The pomp of groves, the garniture of fields,&rsquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>within the reach, not of a score of luxurious, sauntering
tourists, but of the great mass of the population, who have
senses and tastes as keen as the keenest.&nbsp; You throw it
open, with all its soothing and humanizing influences, to
thousands who, but for your railways and steamers, would have
lived and died without ever having breathed the life-giving air
of the mountains; yes, sir, to tens of thousands who would have
gone to their graves, and the sooner for the prevention, without
ever having caught a glimpse of the most magnificent and
beautiful spectacle which nature presents to the eye of man, that
of a glorious curving wave, a quarter-of-a-mile long, as it comes
swelling and breasting toward the shore, till its soft green
ridge bursts into a crest of snow, and settles and digs along the
whispering sands.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE ADVERTISEMENT.</h2>
<p>The most astonishing kind of property to leave behind at a
railway station is mentioned in an advertisement which appeared
in the newspapers dated Swindon, April 27th, 1844.&nbsp; It gave
notice &ldquo;That a pair of bright bay horses, about sixteen
hands high, with black switch tails and manes,&rdquo; had been
left in the name of Hibbert; and notice was given that unless the
horses were claimed on or before the 12th day of May, they would
be sold to pay expenses.&nbsp; Accordingly on that day they were
sold.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Household Words</i>.</p>
<h2>RAILWAY EPIGRAM.</h2>
<p>In 1845, during the discussions on the Midland lines before
the Committee of the House of Commons, Mr. Hill, the Counsel, was
addressing the Committee, when Sir John Rae Reid, who was a
member of it, handed the following lines to the
chairman:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Ye railway men, who mountains lower,<br />
Who level locks and valleys fill;<br />
Who thro&rsquo; the <i>hills</i> vast tunnels <i>bore</i>;<br />
Must now in turn be <i>bored by Hill</i>.&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<h2><!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 125</span>SINGULAR CIRCUMSTANCE.</h2>
<p>A certain gentleman of large property, and who had figured, if
he does not now figure, as a Railway Director, applied for shares
in a certain projected railway.&nbsp; Fifty, it seems were
allotted to him.&nbsp; Whether that was the number he applied for
or not, deponent saith not; but by some means nothing (0) got
added to the 50 and made it 500.&nbsp; The deposit for the said
500 was paid into the bankers&rsquo;, the scrip obtained, and
before the mistake could be detected and corrected&mdash;for no
doubt it was only a mistake, or at most a <i>lapsus
penn&aelig;</i>&mdash;the shares were sold, and some &pound;2000
profit by this very fortunate accident found its way into the
pocket of the gentleman.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Herepath&rsquo;s
Journal</i>, 1845.</p>
<h2>LOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE ENGLISH NAVVIES.</h2>
<p>Whittlesea Will, William Elthorpe, from Cambridgeshire, had a
large railway experience; during the construction of Longton
Tunnel, he told me the following story:&mdash;&ldquo;Ye see, Mr.
Smith (Samuel Smith, of Woodberry Down), I was a ganger for Mr.
Price on the Marseilles and Avignon Line in France, and I&rsquo;d
gangs of all nations to deal with.&nbsp; Well, I could not manage
&rsquo;em nohow mixed&mdash;there were the Jarman Gang, the
French Gang, the English, Scotch, and Irish Gangs, of course; the
Belgic Gang, the Spanish Gang, and the Peamounter
Gang&mdash;that&rsquo;s a Gang, d&rsquo;ye see, that comes off
the mountains somewhere towards Italy.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,
the Piedmontese, you mean.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, you may call
&rsquo;em Peedmanteeze if you like, but we call&rsquo;d &rsquo;em
Peamounters&mdash;and so at last I hit on the plan of putting
each gang by itself; gangs o&rsquo; nations, the Peamounter gang
here, the Jarman gang there, and the Belgic gang there, and so
on, and it worked capital, each gang worked against the other
gang like good &rsquo;uns.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well one day our master, Mr. Price, gave the English
gang a great entertainment at a sort of Tea Garden place, near
Paris, called Maison Lafitte, and we were coming home along the
road before dark&mdash;it was a summer&rsquo;s
evening&mdash;singing and shouting pretty loud, I dare say, when
a fat, oldish gentleman rode into the midst of us and <!-- page
126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
126</span>pulling up said, taking off his hat&mdash;&lsquo;I
think you are English Navigators.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Well, and
what if we are, old fellow, what&rsquo;s that to
you?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Why, you are making a very great noise,
and I noticed you did not make way for me, or salute me as we
met, which is not polite&mdash;every one in France salutes a
gentleman.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve been in England, I like the
English,&rsquo; by this time his military attendants rode up, and
seeing him alone in the midst of us were going to ride us down at
once but the old boy beckoned with his hand for them to hold
back, and continued his sarmont.&nbsp; &lsquo;I should wish
you,&rsquo; says he, quite pleasant, &lsquo;whilst you remain in
France to be orderly, obliging, civil, and polite; it&rsquo;s
always the best&mdash;now remember this: and here&rsquo;s
something for you to remember Louis Philippe by;&rsquo; putting
his hand into his pocket, he pulled out what silver he had, I
suppose, threw it among us, and rode off&mdash;but, my eyes,
didn&rsquo;t we give him a cheer!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ADVANTAGES OF RAILWAY-TUNNELS.</h2>
<p>We cannot help repeating a narrative which we heard on one
occasion, told with infinite gravity by a clergyman whose name we
at once inquired about, and of whom we shall only say, that he is
one of the worthiest and best sons of the kirk, and knows when to
be serious as well as when to jest.&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t tell
me,&rdquo; said he to a simple-looking Highland brother, who had
apparently made his first trial of railway travelling in coming
up to the Assembly&mdash;&ldquo;don&rsquo;t tell me that tunnels
on railways are an unmitigated evil: they serve high moral and
&aelig;sthetical purposes.&nbsp; Only the other day I got into a
railway carriage, and I had hardly taken my seat, when the train
started.&nbsp; On looking up, I saw sitting opposite to me two of
the most rabid dissenters in Scotland.&nbsp; I felt at once that
there could be no pleasure for me in that journey, and with
gloomy heart and countenance I leaned back in my corner.&nbsp;
But all at once we plunged into a deep tunnel, black as night,
and when we emerged at the other end, my brow was clear and my
ill-humour was entirely dissipated.&nbsp; Shall I tell you how
this came to be?&nbsp; All the way through the tunnel I was
shaking <!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 127</span>my fists in the dissenters&rsquo;
faces, and making horrible mouths at them, and <i>that</i>
relieved me, and set me all right.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t speak
against tunnels again, my dear friend.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Fraser&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>DAMAGES EASILY ADJUSTED.</h2>
<p>It is related that the President of the Fitchburg Railroad,
some thirty years ago, settled with a number of passengers who
had been wet but not seriously injured by the running off of a
train into the river, by paying them from $5 to $20 each.&nbsp;
One of them, a sailor, when his terms were asked,
said:&mdash;&ldquo;Well, you see, mister, when I was down in the
water, I looked up to the bridge and calculated that we had
fallen fifteen feet, so if you will pay me a dollar a foot I will
call it square.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>LIABILITIES OF RAILWAY ENGINEERS FOR THEIR ERRORS.</h2>
<p>An action was tried before Mr. Justice Maule, July 30,
1846&mdash;the first case of the kind&mdash;which established the
liability of railway engineers for the consequences of any errors
they commit.</p>
<p>The action was brought by the Dudley and Madeley Company
against Mr. Giles, the engineer.&nbsp; They had paid him
&pound;4,000 for the preparation of the plans, etc., but when the
time arrived for depositing them with the Board of Trade they
were not completely ready.&nbsp; The scheme had consequently
failed.&nbsp; This conduct of the defendant it was estimated had
injured the company to the extent of &pound;40,000.&nbsp; The
counsel for the plaintiff did not claim damages to this amount,
but would be content with such a sum as the jury should, under
the circumstances, think the defendant ought to pay, as a penalty
for the negligence of which he had been guilty.&nbsp; For Mr.
Giles, it was contended, that the jury ought not, at the worst,
to find a verdict for more than &pound;1,700, alleging that the
remainder &pound;2,300 had been paid by him in wages for work
done, and materials used.</p>
<p>The jury, however, returned a verdict to the tune of
&pound;4,500, or &pound;500 beyond the full sum paid him.</p>
<p>But, what said the judge?&nbsp; That &ldquo;it was clear that
the defendant had undertaken more work than he could <!-- page
128--><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
128</span>complete, and that he should not be allowed to gratify
with impunity, and to the injury of the plaintiffs, his desire to
realise in a few months a fortune which should only be the result
of the labour of years.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>Yesterday afternoon, as the Leeds train, which left that
terminus at a quarter-past one o&rsquo;clock, was approaching
Rugby, and within four miles of that station, an umbrella behind
the private carriage of Earl Zetland took fire, in consequence of
a spark from the engine falling on it, and presently the imperial
on the roof and the upper part of the carriage were in a
blaze.&nbsp; Seated within it were the Countess of Zetland and
her maid.&nbsp; The train was proceeding at the rate of forty
miles an hour.&nbsp; Under these circumstances, Her Ladyship and
maid descended from the carriage to the truck, when&mdash;despite
the caution to hold on given by a gentleman from a window of one
of the railway carriages&mdash;the maid threw herself headlong on
the rail, and was speedily lost sight of.&nbsp; On the arrival of
the train at Rugby an engine was despatched along the line, when
the young woman was found severely injured, and taken to the
Infirmary at Leicester.&nbsp; Lady Zetland remained at Rugby,
where she was joined by His Lordship and the family physician
last night, by an express train from Euston-square.&nbsp; How
long will railway companies delay establishing a means of
communication between passengers and the guard?</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Times</i>, Dec. 9th,
1847.</p>
<h2>PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.</h2>
<p>On Monday, at the New Bailey, two men, named William Hatfield
and Mark Clegg, the former an engine-driver and the latter a
fireman in the employ of the London and North-Western Railway,
were brought up before Mr. Trafford, the stipendiary magistrate,
and Captain Whittaker, charged with drunkenness and gross
negligence in the discharge of their duty.&nbsp; Mr. Wagstaff,
solicitor, of Warrington, appeared on behalf of the Company, and
from his statement and the evidence of the witnesses it appeared
that the prisoners had charge of the night mail train from <!--
page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
129</span>Liverpool to London, on Saturday, December 25,
1847.&nbsp; The number of carriages and passengers was not
stated, but the pointsman at the Warrington junction being at his
post, waiting for the train, was surprised to hear it coming at a
very rapid rate.&nbsp; He had been preparing to turn the points
in order to shunt the train on to the Warrington junction, but as
the train did not diminish in speed, but rather increased as it
approached, he, anticipating great danger if he should turn the
points, determined on the instant upon letting the train take its
course, and not turning them.&nbsp; Most fortunate was it that he
exercised so much judgment and sagacity, for, in consequence of
the acuteness of the curve at Warrington junction and the
tremendous rate at which the train was proceeding&mdash;not less
than forty miles an hour&mdash;it does not appear that anything
could have otherwise prevented the train from being overturned,
and a frightful sacrifice of human life ensuing.&nbsp; Meantime
the train continued its frightful progress; but the mail guard
seated at the end of the train, perceiving that it was going on
towards Manchester, instead of staying at the junction, signalled
to the engine-driver and fireman, but without effect, no notice
whatever being taken of the signal.&nbsp; Finding this to be the
case, he, at very considerable risk, passed over from carriage to
carriage till he reached the engine, where he found both the
prisoners lying drunk.&nbsp; At length, at Patricroft, however,
he succeeded in stopping the train just before it reached that
station, a distance of 14 miles from Warrington.&nbsp; This again
appears to be almost a miraculous circumstance, for at the
Patricroft station, on the same line as that on which the mail
train was running was another train, containing a number of
passengers, who thus escaped from the consequences of a dreadful
collision.&nbsp; The prisoners were, of course, immediately given
into custody, and convoyed to the New Bailey prison, while, other
assistance being obtained, the train was taken back again to
Warrington junction.&nbsp; The regulation is in consequence of
the sharp curve at this junction, that the trains shall not run
more than five miles an hour.&nbsp; The bench sentenced both
prisoners to two months hard labour.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Manchester
Examiner</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 130</span>HIS PORTMANTEAU.</h2>
<p>An English traveller in Germany entered a first-class carriage
in which there was only one seat vacant, a middle one.&nbsp; A
corner seat was occupied by a German, who evidently had placed
his portmanteau on the opposite one&mdash;at least the traveller
suspected that this was the case.&nbsp; The latter asked,
&ldquo;Is this seat engaged?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was
the reply.&nbsp; When the time for the departure of the train had
almost arrived, the Englishman said, &ldquo;Your friend is going
to miss the train, if he is not quick.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,
that is all right.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll keep it for him.&rdquo;&nbsp;
Soon the signal came and the train started, when the passenger
seized the portmanteau, and threw it out of the window,
exclaiming, &ldquo;He&rsquo;s missed his train but he
mustn&rsquo;t lose his baggage!&rdquo;&nbsp; That portmanteau was
the German&rsquo;s.</p>
<h2>GROWTH OF STATION BOOKSHOPS.</h2>
<p>The gradual rise of the railway book-trade is a singular
feature of our marvellous railway era.&nbsp; In the first
instance, when the scope and capabilities of the rail had yet to
be ascertained, the privilege of selling books, newspapers, etc.,
at the several stations was freely granted to any who might think
proper to claim it.&nbsp; Vendors came and went, when and how
they chose, their trade was of the humblest, and their profits
were as varying as their punctuality.&nbsp; By degrees the
business assumed shape, the newspaper man found it his interest
to maintain a <i>locus standi</i> in the establishment, and the
establishment, in its turn, discerned a substantial means of
helping the poor or the deserving among its servants.&nbsp; A
cripple maimed in the company&rsquo;s service, or a married
servant of a director or secretary, superseded the first batch of
stragglers and assumed responsibility by express
appointment.&nbsp; The responsibility, in truth, was not very
great at starting.&nbsp; Railway travelling, at the time referred
to, occupied but a very small portion of a man&rsquo;s
time.&nbsp; The longest line reached only thirty miles, and no
traveller required anything more solid than his newspaper for his
hour&rsquo;s steaming.&nbsp; But as the iron lengthened, and as
cities remote from each other were brought closer, the time spent
in the railway carriage <!-- page 131--><a
name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>extended,
travellers multiplied, and the newspaper ceased to be sufficient
for the journey.&nbsp; At this period reading matter for the rail
sensibly increased; the tide of cheap literature set in.&nbsp;
French novels, unfortunately, of questionable character were
introduced by the newsman, simply because he could buy them at
one-third less than any other publication selling at the same
price.&nbsp; The public purchased the wares they saw before them,
and very soon the ingenious caterers for railway readers
flattered themselves that there was a general demand amongst all
classes for the peculiar style of literature upon which it had
been their good fortune to hit.&nbsp; The more eminent
booksellers and publishers stood aloof, whilst others, less
scrupulous, finding a market open and ready-made to their hands
were only too eager to supply it.&nbsp; It was then that the
<i>Parlour Library</i> was set on foot.&nbsp; Immense numbers of
this work were sold to travellers, and every addition to the
stock was positively made on the assumption that persons of the
better class, who constitute the larger portion of railway
readers, lose their accustomed taste the moment they smell the
engine and present themselves to the railway librarian.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Preface to a Reprinted
Article from the <i>Times</i>, 1851.</p>
<h2>MESSRS. SMITHS&rsquo; BOOKSTALLS.</h2>
<p>The following appeared in the <i>Athen&aelig;um</i>, 27th
Jan., 1849.&nbsp; &ldquo;The new business in bookselling which
the farming of the line of the North-Western Railway by Mr.
Smith, of the Strand, is likely to open up, engages a good deal
of attention in literary circles.&nbsp; This new shop for books
will, it is thought, seriously injure many of the country
booksellers, and remove at the same time a portion of the
business transacted by London tradesmen.&nbsp; For instance, a
country gentleman wishing to purchase a new book will give his
order, not as heretofore, to the Lintot or Tonson of his
particular district, but to the agent of the bookseller on the
line of railway&mdash;the party most directly in his way.&nbsp;
Instead of waiting, as he was accustomed to do, till the
bookseller of his village or of the nearest town, can get his
usual monthly parcel down from his agent &lsquo;in the
Row&rsquo;&mdash;he will find his book at the locomotive library,
and so be enabled to read the last new novel before it is a
little flat <!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 132</span>or the last new history in the same
edition as the resident in London.&nbsp; A London gentleman
hurrying from town with little time to spare will buy the book he
wants at the railway station where he takes his ticket&mdash;or
perhaps at the next, or third, or fourth, or at the last station
(just as the fancy takes him) on his journey.&nbsp; It is quite
possible to conceive such a final extension of this principle
that the retail trade in books may end in a great
monopoly:&mdash;nay, instead of seeing the <i>imprimatur</i> of
the Row or of Albermarle Street upon a book, the great
recommendation hereafter may be &lsquo;Euston Square,&rsquo;
&lsquo;Paddington,&rsquo; &lsquo;The Nine Elms,&rsquo; or even
&lsquo;Shoreditch.&rsquo;&nbsp; Whatever may be the effect to the
present race of booksellers of this change in their
business&mdash;it is probable that this new mart for books will
raise the profits of authors.&nbsp; How many hours are wasted at
railway stations by people well to do in the world, with a taste
for books but no time to read advertisements or to drop in at a
bookseller&rsquo;s to see what is new.&nbsp; Already it is found
that the sale at these places is not confined to cheap or even
ephemeral publications;&mdash;that it is not the novel or light
work alone that is asked for and bought.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The prophecy of progress contained in the above
paragraph has been fulfilled so far as the North-Western and Mr.
Smith are concerned.&nbsp; His example, however, was not
infectious for other lines; and till within the last three
months, when the Great Northern copied the good precedent, and
entered into a contract with Mr. Smith and his son, the greenest
literature in dress and in digestion was all that was offered to
the wants of travellers by the directors of the South-Western,
the Great Western, and other trunk and branch lines with which
England is intersected.&nbsp; A traveller in the eastern,
western, and southern counties who does not bring his book with
him can satisfy his love of reading only by the commonest and
cheapest trash&mdash;for the pretences to the appearance of a
bookseller&rsquo;s shop made at Waterloo, at Shoreditch, at
Paddington, and at London Bridge, are something ridiculous.&nbsp;
This should not be.&nbsp; It shows little for the public spirit
of the directors of our railways that such a system should
remain.&nbsp; Mr. Smith has, we believe, as many as thirty-five
shops at railway stations, extending from London to Liverpool,
Chester and Edinburgh.&nbsp; His <!-- page 133--><a
name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>great
stations are at Euston Square, Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool
and Edinburgh.&nbsp; He has a rolling stock of books valued at
&pound;10,000.&nbsp; We call his stock rolling, because he moves
his wares with the inclinations of his readers.&nbsp; If he finds
a religious feeling on the rise at Bangor, he withdraws Dickens
and sends down Henry of Exeter or Mr. Bennett; if a love for
lighter reading is on the increase at Rugby, he withdraws Hallam
and sends down Thackeray and Jerrold.&nbsp; He never undersells
and he gives no credit.&nbsp; His business is a ready-money one,
and he finds it his interest to maintain the dignity of
literature by resolutely refusing to admit pernicious
publications among his stock.&nbsp; He can well afford to pay the
heavy fee he does for his privilege; for his novel speculation
has been a decided hit&mdash;of solid advantage to himself and of
permanent utility to the public.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Athan&aelig;um</i>, Sept.
5, 1851.</p>
<h2>A RESIDENT ENGINEER AND SCIENTIFIC WITNESS.</h2>
<p>Shortly after the first locomotives were placed on the London
and Birmingham Railway, a scientific civilian, who had given very
positive evidence before Parliament as to the injury to health
and other intolerable evils that must arise from the construction
of tunnels, paid a visit to the line.&nbsp; The resident engineer
accompanied him in a first-class carriage over the newly-finished
portion of the works.&nbsp; As they drew near Chalk Farm the
engineer attracted the attention of his visitor to the lamp at
the top of the carriage.&nbsp; &ldquo;I should like to have your
opinion on this,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;The matter seems
simple, but it requires a deal of thought.&nbsp; You see it is
essential to keep the oil from dropping on the passengers.&nbsp;
The cup shape effectually prevents this.&nbsp; Then the lamps
would not burn.&nbsp; We had to arrange an up-cast and down-cast
chimney, in order to ensure the circulation of air in the
lamp.&nbsp; Then there was the question of
shadow;&rdquo;&mdash;and so he continued, to the great
edification of his listener, for five or six minutes.&nbsp; When
a satisfactory conclusion as to the lamp had been arrived at, the
learned man looked out of the window.&nbsp; &ldquo;What place is
this?&rdquo; said he.&nbsp; &ldquo;Kensal Green.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;how is that?&nbsp; I
thought there was one of your great tunnels to <!-- page 134--><a
name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>pass before
we came to Kensal Green.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; replied
the Resident, carelessly, &ldquo;did you not observe?&nbsp; We
came through Chalk Farm Tunnel very steadily.&rdquo;&nbsp; The
man of science felt himself caught.&nbsp; He made no more reports
upon tunnels.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Personal Recollections of
English Engineers</i>.</p>
<h2>EXTRAORDINARY SCENE AT A RAILWAY JUNCTION.</h2>
<p>A most extraordinary and unprecedented scene occurred on
Monday morning at the Clifton station, about five miles from
Manchester, where the East Lancashire line forms a junction with
the Lancashire and Yorkshire.&nbsp; The East Lancashire are in
the habit of running up-trains to Manchester, past the Clifton
junction, without stopping, afterwards making a declaration to
the Lancashire and Yorkshire Company of the number of passengers
the trains contain, and for whom they will have to pay
toll.&nbsp; The Lancashire and Yorkshire Company object to this
plan, and demand that the trains shall stop at Clifton, so that
the number of passengers can be counted, and give up their
tickets.&nbsp; The East Lancashire Company say that in addition
to their declaration, the other parties have access to all their
books, and to the returns of their (the East Lancashire
Company&rsquo;s) servants; and that the demand to take tickets,
or to count, is only one of annoyance and detention, adopted
since the two companies have become competitors for the traffic
to Bradford.&nbsp; Towards the close of last week, the dispute
assumed a serious aspect, by one of the Lancashire and Yorkshire
Company&rsquo;s agents at Manchester (Mr. Blackmore) threatening
that he would blockade or stop up the East Lancashire line, at
the point of junction, with a large balk of timber.&nbsp; The
East Lancashire Company got out a summons against Mr. Blackmore
on Saturday; but, notwithstanding this, the Lancashire and
Yorkshire Company&rsquo;s manager proceeded on Monday to carry
the threat into execution, despite the presence of a large body
of the county police.&nbsp; The East Lancashire early trains were
allowed to pass upon the Lancashire and Yorkshire line without
obstruction; but at half-past 10 o&rsquo;clock in the morning, as
the next East Lancashire train to Manchester was one which would
not stop at Clifton, but attempt to <!-- page 135--><a
name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>pass on to
Manchester, a number of labourers, under the direction of Captain
Laws, laid a large balk of timber, secured by two long iron
crowbars, across the down rails to Manchester of the Lancashire
and Yorkshire line, behind which was brought up a train of six
empty carriages, with its engine at the Manchester end.&nbsp;
When the East Lancashire train came in sight, it was signalled to
stop, and the Lancashire and Yorkshire Company&rsquo;s servants
went and demanded the tickets from the passengers.&nbsp; This
demand, however, was fruitless, inasmuch as the East Lancashire
parties had taken the tickets from the passengers at the previous
station&mdash;Ringley.&nbsp; The first act of the East Lancashire
Company&rsquo;s servants was to remove the balk of timber, and
this they did without hindrance.&nbsp; They next attempted to
force before them the Lancashire and Yorkshire blockading
train.&nbsp; This they were not able to do.&nbsp; The East
Lancashire Company then brought up a heavy train laden with
stone, and took up a position on the top line to
Manchester.&nbsp; Thus the Lancashire and Yorkshire
Company&rsquo;s double line of rails was completely blocked
up&mdash;one line by their own train, and the other by the stone
train of the East Lancashire Company.&nbsp; In this position
matters remained till near 12 o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; There were
altogether eight trains on the double lines of rails of the two
companies, extending more than half a mile.&nbsp; After which the
blockade was broken up, and the various trains were allowed to
pass onwards&mdash;fortunately without accident or injury to the
passengers.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Manchester Examiner</i>,
March 13th, 1849.</p>
<h2>GOODS&rsquo; COMPETITION.</h2>
<p>Within the last fortnight, we understand, the London and
North-Western, in conjunction with the Lancashire and Yorkshire,
have commenced carrying goods between Liverpool and Manchester, a
distance of 31 miles, at the ruinously low figure of 6d. per ton,
where they used to have 8s.&nbsp; We further hear that the 6d.
includes the expenses of collection and delivery.&nbsp; The cause
is a competition with the East Lancashire and the canal.&nbsp; At
a very low estimate it has been calculated that every ton costs
6s. 3d., so that they are losing 5s. 9d. on every 6d. earned, or
860 per cent.</p>
<p><!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
136</span>How long this monstrous competition is to continue the
directors only know, but the loss must be frightful on both
sides.&nbsp; Chaplin and Horne had 10s. a ton for collecting and
delivering the goods at the London end of the London and
North-Western Railway, and, though the expense must be less in
such comparatively small towns as Liverpool and Manchester, it
can hardly be less than a half that, 5s.&nbsp; Therefore,
allowing only 1s. 3d. for the bare railway carriage, which is
under a halfpenny a ton a mile, we have 6s. 3d., the estimate
showing the above-mentioned loss of 5s. 9d. on every 6d.
earned.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Herepath&rsquo;s
Journal</i>, Sept. 29th, 1849.</p>
<h2>A POLITE REQUEST.</h2>
<p>An amusing illustration of the formal politeness of a railway
guard occurred some years ago at the Reigate station.&nbsp; He
went to the window of a first class carriage, and said: &ldquo;If
you please, sir, will you have the goodness to change your
carriage here?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;What for?&rdquo; was the gruff
reply of Mr. Bull within.&nbsp; &ldquo;Because, sir, if you
please, the wheel has been on fire since half-way from the last
station!&rdquo;&nbsp; John looked out; the wheel was sending
forth a cloud of smoke, and without waiting to require any
further &ldquo;persuasive influences,&rdquo; he lost no time in
condescending to comply with the request.</p>
<h2>A CHASE AFTER A RUNAWAY ENGINE.</h2>
<p>Mr. Walker, the superintendent of the telegraphs of the
South-Eastern Railway Company, remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;On New
Year&rsquo;s Day, 1850, a collision had occurred to an empty
train at Gravesend, and the driver having leaped from his engine,
the latter darted alone at full speed for London.&nbsp; Notice
was immediately given by telegraph to London and other stations;
and, while the line was kept clear, an engine and other
arrangements were prepared as a buttress to receive the runaway,
while all connected with the station awaited in awful suspense
the expected shock.&nbsp; The superintendent of the railway also
started down the line on an engine, and on passing the runaway he
reversed his engine and had it transferred at the next crossing
to the up-line, so as to be <!-- page 137--><a
name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>in the rear
of the fugitive; he then started in chase, and on overtaking the
other he ran into it at speed, and the driver of the engine took
possession of the fugitive, and all danger was at an end.&nbsp;
Twelve stations were passed in safety; it passed Woolwich at
fifteen miles an hour; it was within a couple of miles of London
when it was arrested.&nbsp; Had its approach been unknown, the
money value of the damage it would have caused might have
equalled the cost of the whole line of telegraph.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>STEAM DEFINED.</h2>
<p>At a railway station, an old lady said to a very pompous
looking gentleman, who was talking about steam
communication.&nbsp; &ldquo;Pray, sir, what is
steam?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Steam, ma&rsquo;am, is
ah!&mdash;steam, is ah! ah! steam is&mdash;steam!&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;I knew that chap couldn&rsquo;t tell ye,&rdquo; said a
rough-looking fellow standing by; &ldquo;but steam is a bucket of
water in a tremendous perspiration.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>IN A RAILWAY TUNNEL.</h2>
<p>Mr. Osborne in the <i>Sunday at Home</i>, says, &ldquo;I have
heard from a friend a strange story of a tunnel, which I will try
to tell you as it was told to me.&nbsp; A well-known engineer was
walking one day through a tunnel, a narrow one, and as he was
going along, supposing himself safe, he thought his ear caught
the far-off rumble of a train <i>in the tunnel</i>.&nbsp; After
stopping and listening for a moment, he became sure it was so,
and that he was caught, and could not possibly get out in
time.&nbsp; What was he to do?&nbsp; Should he draw himself up
close to the side wall, making himself as small as possible, that
the train might not touch him.&nbsp; Or should he lie down flat
between the rails and let the train pass over him.&nbsp; Being an
engineer, and knowing well the shape of things, he decided to lie
down between the rails as his best chance.&nbsp; He had to make
up his mind quickly, for in a minute or so the whole train came
to where he lay, and went thundering over him, and&mdash;did him
no harm whatever.&nbsp; But he afterwards told his friends, that
in that brief moment of time, while the train was passing over,
he saw his whole past life spread out like a map, like an
illuminated transparency, with every particular circumstance
standing out plain.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 138</span>A QUICK WAY.</h2>
<p>Some years ago, when a new railway was opened in the
Highlands, a Highlander heard of it, and bought a ticket for the
first excursion.&nbsp; The train was about half the distance to
the next station when a collision took place, and poor Donald was
thrown unceremoniously into an adjacent park.&nbsp; After
recovering his senses, he made the best of his way home, when the
neighbours asked him how he liked his ride.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; replied Donald, &ldquo;I liked it fine; but
they have an awfu&rsquo; nasty quick way in puttin&rsquo; ane
oot.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>HIGHLANDER AND A RAILWAY ENGINE.</h2>
<p>We remember hearing a story of an old Highland peasant who
happened to see a railway engine for the first time.&nbsp; He was
coming down from the Grampians into Perthshire, and he thus
described the novel monster as it appeared in his astounded
Celtic imagination:&mdash;&ldquo;I was looking doon the glens,
when I saw a funny beast blowing off his perspiration; an&rsquo;
I ran doon, an&rsquo; I tried to stop him, but he just gave an
awfu&rsquo; skirl an&rsquo; disappeared into a
hole.&rdquo;&mdash;(meaning, of course, a tunnel).</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Once a Week</i>.</p>
<h2>EXTRACTS FROM MACREADY&rsquo;S DIARIES.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;July 3rd, 1845.&mdash;Brewster called to cut my hair;
he told me the tradesmen could not get paid in London, for all
the money was employed in railroads.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;June 19th, 1850.&mdash;We were surprised by the
entrance of Carlyle and Mrs. C&mdash;.&nbsp; I was delighted to
see them.&nbsp; Carlyle inveighed against railroads&mdash;he was
quite in one of his exceptious moods.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>FREAKS OF CONCEALED BOGS.</h2>
<p>Great difficulties have often been encountered by engineers in
carrying earth embankments across low grounds, which, under a
fair, green surface, concealed the remains of ancient bogs,
sometimes of great depth.&nbsp; Thus, on the Leeds and Bradford
Extension, about 600 tons of stone and earth were daily cast into
an embankment near Bingley, <!-- page 139--><a
name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 139</span>and each
morning the stuff thrown in on the preceding day was found to
have disappeared.&nbsp; This went on for many weeks, the bank,
however, gradually advancing, and forcing up on either side a
spongy black ridge of moss.&nbsp; On the South-Western Railway a
heavy embankment, about fifty feet high, crossed a piece of
ground near Newham, the surface of which seemed to be perfectly
sound and firm.&nbsp; Twenty feet, however, beneath the surface
an old bog lay concealed; and the ground giving way, the fluid,
pressed from beneath the embankment, raised the adjacent meadows
in all directions like waves of the sea.&nbsp; A culvert, which
permitted the flow of a brook under the bank, was forced down,
the passage of the water entirely stopped, and several thousand
acres of the finest land in Hampshire would have been flooded but
for the exertions of the engineer, who completed a new culvert
just as the other had become completely closed.&nbsp; The
Newton-green embankment, on the Sheffield and Manchester line,
gave way in like manner, and to such an extent as to spread out
two or three times its original width.&nbsp; In this case it was
found necessary to carry the line across the parts which yielded,
under strong timber shores.&nbsp; On the Dundalk and Enniskillen
line a heavy embankment twenty feet high suddenly disappeared one
night in the bog of Meghernakill, nearly adjoining the river
Fane.&nbsp; The bed of the river was forced up, and the flow of
the water for the time was stopped, and the surrounding country
heavily flooded.&nbsp; A concealed bog of even greater extent, on
the Durham and Sunderland Railway, near Aycliff, was crossed by
means of a double-planked road, about two miles in length.&nbsp;
A few weeks after the line had been opened, part of the road sank
one night entirely out of sight.&nbsp; The defect was made good
merely by extending the floating surface of the road at this
portion of the bog.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Quarterly Review</i>.</p>
<h2>A RAILWAY MARRIAGE.</h2>
<p>In Maine, a conductor&mdash;too busy, we suggest, saying
&ldquo;Go ahead!&rdquo; to be particular about wedding
formalities&mdash;invited his betrothed and a minister into a
car, and while <!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 140</span>the train was in motion was married;
leaving that station a bachelor, at this station he was a married
man!&nbsp; It is but one of a thousand examples of life as it
goes in this fast country.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>New York Nation</i>.</p>
<h2>ATTEMPTED FRAUDS.</h2>
<p>Feb. 29, 1849, <i>Central Criminal Court</i>.&mdash;Robert
Duncan, aged 47, staymaker, Mary Duncan, his wife, who
surrendered to take her trial, and Pierce Wall O&rsquo;Brien,
aged 30, printer, were indicted for conspiring together to obtain
money from the London and North-Western Railway Company by false
pretences.</p>
<p>From the statement of Mr. Clarkson and the evidence, it
appeared that the charges made against the prisoners involved a
most impudent attempt at fraud.&nbsp; It appears that on the 5th
of September last year an accident occurred to the up mail train
from York, near the Leighton Buzzard station, but, although some
injury was occasioned to the train, it seemed that none of the
passengers received any personal injury.&nbsp; On the 26th of
October following, however, the company received a communication
from Mr. Harrison, requiring compensation on behalf of defendant,
Robert Duncan, for an injury alleged to have been sustained by
his wife upon the occasion of the collision referred to, it being
represented, also, that her brother, the defendant O&rsquo;Brien,
who was travelling with her at the time from York, had likewise
received serious injury by the same accident.&nbsp; The company
immediately sent a medical gentleman to the place described as
the residence of these persons, No. 59, George Street, Southwark,
and he there saw the man Robert Duncan, who represented that his
wife was dangerously ill, and that the result of the accident on
the railway was a premature confinement, and that her life was in
danger.&nbsp; Mr. Porter was then introduced to the female
defendant, whom he found in bed, apparently in great pain, and
she confirmed her husband&rsquo;s statement.&nbsp; In the same
house the prisoner O&rsquo;Brien was found in bed, and he also
told the same story about the accident on the railway.&nbsp; It
appeared that some suspicion was entertained by the company of
the general character of the transaction, and they <!-- page
141--><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
141</span>had been instituting inquiries.&nbsp; On the 2nd of
November they received another letter from the prisoner Robert
Duncan, in which he made an offer to accept &pound;60 for the
injury his wife had received, and also stating that Mr.
O&rsquo;Brien was willing to accept a similar amount for the
damage he had sustained.&nbsp; At this it appeared Mr. Harrison
resolved not to have anything further to do with the matter,
unless he received satisfactory proof of the truth of the story
told by the parties; and another solicitor was employed by the
defendants, who brought an action against the company for damages
for the alleged injury, and he proceeded so far as to give notice
of trial.&nbsp; The case, however, never went before a jury in
that shape, and by this time it was discovered that there was no
truth in the story told by the defendants.&nbsp; It was proved at
the period when the accident was alleged to have occurred to the
female defendant, she was residing with her husband, and was in
her usual health.&nbsp; With regard to O&rsquo;Brien, there was
no evidence to show that he was upon the train at the time the
accident happened, but, according to the testimony of a witness
named Darke, during the period when the negotiation was going on
with the company, O&rsquo;Brien requested him to write a letter
to Mr. Harrison to the effect that he was riding in the same
carriage with Mrs. Duncan and her brother at the time of the
accident, and he was aware of her having been injured, and gave
him a written statement to that effect, which he copied.&nbsp;
This witness, in cross-examination, admitted that at the time he
wrote the statement he was perfectly well aware it was false, and
he also said that notwithstanding this, he made no difficulty in
doing what O&rsquo;Brien requested, and also that he should have
been ready to make a solemn declaration of the truth of the
statement if he had been required to do so.</p>
<p>A verdict of &ldquo;Not Guilty&rdquo; was taken as to the
female prisoner, on the ground that she was acting under the
control of her husband.&nbsp; The jury returned a verdict of
&ldquo;Guilty&rdquo; against the two male defendants.</p>
<p>Mr. Clarkson said he was instructed to state that, at the
period of the catastrophe on board the Cricket steam-boat, <!--
page 142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
142</span>the prisoners obtained a sum of &pound;70 from the
company to which that vessel belonged, by the false pretence that
they had received injury upon the occasion.</p>
<p>The Recorder sentenced Duncan to be imprisoned for twelve, and
O&rsquo;Brien for six months.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Annual Register</i>.</p>
<h2>A BRIDE&rsquo;S LOST LUGGAGE.</h2>
<p>The trouble which is bestowed by railway companies to cause
the restitution of lost property is incalculable.&nbsp; Some
years ago, a young lady lost a portmanteau from the rest of her
luggage&mdash;a pardonable oversight, for she was a bride
starting on a honeymoon trip.&nbsp; The bridegroom&mdash;never on
such occasions an accountable being&mdash;had not noticed the
misfortune.&nbsp; When the loss was discovered, and application
made respecting it, the lady spoke positively of having seen it
at the station whence they started, then again at a station where
they had to change carriages; she saw it also when they left the
railway; it was all safe, she averred, at the hotel where they
stopped for a few days.&nbsp; She was also certain that it was
among the rest of the &ldquo;things&rdquo; when they again
started for a watering-place; but, when they arrived there, it
was missing.&nbsp; It contained a new riding habit, value fifteen
pounds.&nbsp; The search that was instituted for this portmanteau
recalled that of Telemachus for Ulysses; the railway officials
sent one of their clerks with a <i>carte blanche</i> to trace the
bride&rsquo;s journey to the end of the last mile, till some
tidings of the strayed trunk could be traced.&nbsp; He went to
every station, to every coach-office in connection with every
station, to every town, to every hotel, and to every lodging that
the happy couple had visited.&nbsp; His expenses actually
amounted to fifteen pounds.&nbsp; He came back without
success.&nbsp; At length the treasure was found; but where?&nbsp;
At the by-station on another line, whence the bride had started
from home a maiden.&nbsp; Yet she had positively declared,
without doubt or reservation, that she had, &ldquo;with her own
eyes,&rdquo; seen the trunk on the various stages of her tour;
this can only be accounted for by the peculiar flustration of a
young lady just plunged into the vortex of matrimony.&nbsp; The
husband paid the whole of the costs.</p>
<h2><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 143</span>THIRD-CLASS PASSENGERS.</h2>
<p>The conveyance of passengers at cheap fares was from the
commencement of railways a great public concern, and it was soon
found necessary that the legislature should take action in the
matter.&nbsp; Accordingly, by the Regulation of Railways Act,
1844, all passenger railways were required to run one train every
day from end to end of their line, carrying third-class
passengers at a rate not exceeding one penny a mile, stopping at
all stations, starting at hours approved by the Board of Trade,
travelling at least twelve miles an hour, and with carriages
protected from weather.&nbsp; This enactment greatly encouraged
the poorer classes in railway travelling; but the companies were
slow to carry out the new regulations cheerfully.&nbsp; The
trains were timed at most inconvenient hours; to undertake a
journey of any considerable length in one day at third-class fare
was almost out of the question.&nbsp; In fact, a short-sighted
policy of doing almost everything to discourage third-class
travelling was adopted by the Companies.</p>
<p>A traveller having started on a long journey, thinking to be
able to travel all the way third-class, would find at some stage
of the route that he had arrived, only a few minutes perhaps,
after the departure of the cheap train to his destination, with
no alternative but to wait for hours or proceed by the express
and pay accordingly.&nbsp; Moreover, the third-class carriages
were provided with the very minimum of comfort.&nbsp; It was not
seen by the railway executive of that time that the policy
adopted was actually prejudicial to their own interests.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Our Railways</i>, by Joseph
Parsloe.</p>
<h2>IMPROVEMENT IN THIRD-CLASS TRAVELLING.</h2>
<p>The Rev. F. S. Williams, in an article in the <i>Contemporary
Review</i>, entitled &ldquo;Railway Revolutions,&rdquo;
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;We need not go back so far as the time when
third-class passengers had to stand in a sort of cattle-pen
placed on wheels; it is only a few years since the Parliamentary
trains were run in bare fulfilment of the obligations of
Parliament, and when a journey by one of them could never be
looked upon as anything better than a necessary evil.&nbsp; To
start in the <!-- page 144--><a name="page144"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 144</span>darkness of a winter&rsquo;s morning
to catch the only third-class train that ran; to sit, after a
slender breakfast, in a vehicle the windows of which were
compounded of the largest amount of wood and the smallest amount
of glass, and which were carefully adjusted to exactly those
positions in which the fewest travellers could see out of them;
to stop at every roadside station, however insignificant; and to
accomplish a journey of 200 miles in about ten hours&mdash;such
were the ordinary conditions which Parliament in its bounty
provided for the people.&nbsp; Occasionally, moreover, the
monotony of progress was interrupted by the shunting of the train
into a siding, where it might wait for more respectable passenger
trains and fast goods to pass.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;We remember,&rdquo; says a writer, &ldquo;once standing
on the platform at Darlington when the Parliamentary train
arrived.&nbsp; It was detained for a considerable time to allow a
more favoured train to pass, and, on the remonstrance of several
of the passengers at the unexpected detention, they were coolly
informed, &ldquo;Ye mun bide till yer betters gaw past, ye are
only the nigger train.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;If there is one part of my public life,&rdquo; recently
said Mr. Allport (Midland Railway) to the writer, &ldquo;in which
I look back with more satisfaction than anything else, it is with
reference to the boon we conferred on third-class
passengers.&nbsp; When the rich man travels, or if he lies in bed
all day, his capital remains undiminished, and perhaps his income
flows in all the same.&nbsp; But when a poor man travels he has
not only to pay his fare, but to sink his capital, for his time
is his capital; and if he now consumes only five hours instead of
ten in making a journey, he has saved five hours of time for
useful labour&mdash;useful to himself, to his family, and to
society.&nbsp; And I think with even more pleasure of the comfort
in travelling we have been able to confer upon women and
children.&nbsp; But it took,&rdquo; he added,
&ldquo;five-and-twenty years&rsquo; work to get it
done.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A GREAT DISCOVERY.</h2>
<p>Confound that Pope Gregory who changed the style!&nbsp; He, or
some one else, has robbed the month of February, in ordinary
years, of no less than three days, for Mr. George Sutton, the
solicitor, has discovered and established by the <!-- page
145--><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
145</span>last Brighton Act of Parliament that February has
<i>really thirty-one days</i>, while that good-for-nothing Pope
led us to believe it had only twenty-eight.&nbsp; The language of
the 45th clause of the Act or of the bill which went into the
Lords is:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;That so much of the said Consolidation Act as enacts
that the ordinary meetings of the company, subsequent to the
first ordinary meeting thereof, shall be held half-yearly on the
31st day of July, and <i>thirty-first day of February</i> in each
year, or within one month before or after these days shall be,
and the same is hereby repealed.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The next clause enacts, we suppose by reason of &ldquo;the
31st of February&rdquo; being an inconvenient day, that the
meetings shall be held on the 31st of January and the 31st of
July, a month before or a month after.</p>
<p>On account of the great value of an addition of three days to
our years, and, therefore, an annual addition to our lives of
three days, we beg to propose that a handsome testimonial be
given to Mr. George Sutton, the eminent solicitor of the Brighton
Railway Company, the author of the Act and the discoverer of the
Pope&rsquo;s wicked conduct.&nbsp; We further propose that it be
given him on &ldquo;the 31st day of February&rdquo; next year,
and that his salary be paid on that day, and no other, every
year.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Herepath&rsquo;s
Journal</i>, June 24th, 1854.</p>
<h2>A DREADED EVIL.</h2>
<p>When the old Sheffield and Rotherham line was contemplated,
&ldquo;A hundred and twenty inhabitants of Rotherham, headed by
their vicar, petitioned against the bill, because they thought
the canal and turnpike furnished sufficient accommodation between
the two towns, and because they dreaded an incursion of the idle,
drunken, and dissolute portion of the Sheffield people as a
consequence of increasing the facilities of transit.&rdquo;&nbsp;
For a time the opposition was successful but eventually the
Lord&rsquo;s Committee yielded to the perseverance of the
promoters of the bill.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Sheffield and Rotherham
Independent</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 146--><a name="page146"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 146</span>REMARKABLE ADVENTURE.</h2>
<p>A young lady some years ago thus related an adventure she met
with in travelling.&nbsp; &ldquo;After I had taken my seat one
morning at Paddington, in an empty carriage, I was joined, just
as the train was moving off, by a strange-looking young man, with
remarkably long flowing hair.&nbsp; He was, of course, a little
hurried, but he seemed besides to be so disturbed and wild that I
was quite alarmed, for fear of his not being in his right mind,
nor did his subsequent conduct at all reassure me.&nbsp; Our
train was an express, and he inquired eagerly, at once, which was
the first station we were advertised to stop.&nbsp; I consulted
my Bradshaw and furnished him with the required
information.&nbsp; It was Reading.&nbsp; The young man looked at
his watch.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Madam,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;I have but
half-an-hour between me and, it may be, ruin.&nbsp; Excuse,
therefore, my abruptness.&nbsp; You have, I perceive, a pair of
scissors in your workbag.&nbsp; Oblige me, if you please, by
cutting off all my hair.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Sir,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;it is
impossible.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Madam,&rsquo; he urged, and a look of severe
determination crossed his features; &lsquo;I am a desperate
man.&nbsp; Beware how you refuse me what I ask.&nbsp; Cut my hair
off&mdash;short, close to the roots&mdash;immediately; and here
is a newspaper to hold the ambrosial curls.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I thought he was mad, of course; and believing that it
would be dangerous to thwart him, I cut off all his hair to the
last lock.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Now, madam,&rsquo; said he, unlocking a small
portmanteau, &lsquo;you will further oblige me by looking out of
the window, as I am about to change my clothes.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Of course I looked out of the window for a very
considerable time, and when he observed, &lsquo;Madam, I need no
longer put you to any inconvenience,&rsquo; I did not recognise
the young man in the least.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Instead of his former rather gay costume, he was
attired in black, and wore a grey wig and silver spectacles; he
looked like a respectable divine of the Church of England, of
about sixty-four years of age; to complete that character, he
held a volume of sermons in his hand, which&mdash;they appeared
so to absorb him&mdash;might have been his own.</p>
<p><!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
147</span>&ldquo;&lsquo;I do not wish to threaten you, young
lady,&rsquo; he resumed, &lsquo;and I think, besides, that I can
trust your kind face.&nbsp; Will you promise me not to reveal
this metamorphosis until your journey&rsquo;s end?&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I will,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;most
certainly.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;At Reading, the guard and a person in plain clothes
looked into our carriage.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You have the ticket, my love,&rsquo; said the
young man, blandly, and looking to me as though he were my
father.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Never mind, sir; we don&rsquo;t want
them,&rsquo; said the official, as he withdrew his companion.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I shall now leave you, madam,&rsquo; observed my
fellow-traveller, as soon as the coast was clear; &lsquo;by your
kind and courageous conduct you have saved my life and, perhaps,
even your own.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;In another minute he was gone, and the train was in
motion.&nbsp; Not till the next morning did I learn from the
<i>Times</i> newspaper that the gentleman on whom I had operated
as hair cutter had committed a forgery to an enormous amount, in
London, a few hours before I met him, and that he had been
tracked into the express train from Paddington; but
that&mdash;although the telegraph had been put in motion and
described him accurately&mdash;at Reading, when the train was
searched, he was nowhere to be found.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SAFETY ON THE FLOOR.</h2>
<p>Many concussions give no warning of their approach, while
others do, the usual premonitory symptoms being a kind of
bouncing or leaping of the train.&nbsp; It is well to know that
the bottom of the carriage is the safest place, and, therefore,
when a person has reason to anticipate a concussion, he should,
without hesitation, throw himself on the floor of the
carriage.&nbsp; It was by this means that Lord Guillamore saved
his life and that of his fellow passengers some years since, when
a concussion took place on one of the Irish railways.&nbsp; His
Lordship feeling a shock, which he knew to be the forerunner of a
concussion, without more ado sprang upon the two persons sitting
opposite to him, and dragged them with him to the bottom of the
carriage; the astonished persons at first imagined that they had
been set <!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 148</span>upon by a maniac, and commenced
struggling for their liberty, but in a few seconds they but too
well understood the nature of the case; the concussion came, and
the upper part of the carriage in which Lord Guillamore and the
other two persons were was shattered to pieces, while the floor
was untouched, and thus left them lying in safety; while the
other carriages of the train presented nothing but a ghastly
spectacle of dead and wounded.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Railway
Traveller&rsquo;s Handy Book</i>.</p>
<h2>LIFE UPON THE RAILWAY, BY A CONDUCTOR.</h2>
<p>The Western Division of our road runs through a very
mountainous part of Virginia, and the stations are few and far
between.&nbsp; About three miles from one of these stations, the
road runs through a deep gorge of the Blue Ridge, and near the
centre is a small valley, and there, hemmed in by the everlasting
hills, stood a small one-and-a-half-story log cabin.&nbsp; The
few acres that surrounded it were well cultivated as a garden,
and upon the fruits thereof lived a widow and her three children,
by the name of Graff.&nbsp; They were, indeed, untutored in the
cold charities of an outside world&mdash;I doubt much if they
ever saw the sun shine beyond their own native hills.&nbsp; In
the summer time the children brought berries to the nearest
station to sell, and with the money they bought a few of the
necessities of the outside refinement.</p>
<p>The oldest of these children I should judge to be about twelve
years, and the youngest about seven.&nbsp; They were all girls,
and looked nice and clean, and their healthful appearance and
natural delicacy gave them a ready welcome.&nbsp; They appeared
as if they had been brought up to fear God and love their humble
home and mother.&nbsp; I had often stopped my train and let them
get off at their home, having found them at the station some
three miles from home, after disposing of their berries.</p>
<p>I had children at home, and I knew their little feet would be
tired in walking three miles, and therefore felt that it would be
the same with these fatherless little ones.&nbsp; They seemed so
pleased to ride, and thanked me with such hearty thanks, after
letting them off near home.&nbsp; They frequently <!-- page
149--><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
149</span>offered me nice, tempting baskets of fruit for my
kindness; yet I never accepted any without paying their full
value.</p>
<p>Now, if you remember, the winter of &rsquo;54 was very cold in
that part of the State, and the snow was nearly three feet deep
on the mountains.</p>
<p>On the night of the 26th of December, of that year, it turned
around warm, and the rain fell in torrents.&nbsp; A terrible
storm swept the mountain tops, and almost filled the valleys with
water.&nbsp; Upon that night my train was winding its way, at its
usual speed, around the hills and through the valleys, and as the
road-bed was all solid rock, I had no fear of the banks giving
out.&nbsp; The night was intensely dark, and the winds moaned
piteously through the deep gorges of the mountains.&nbsp; Some of
my passengers were trying to sleep, others were talking in a low
voice, to relieve the monotony of the scene.&nbsp; Mothers had
their children upon their knees, as if to shield them from some
unknown danger without.</p>
<p>It was near midnight, when a sharp whistle from the engine
brought me to my feet.&nbsp; I knew there was danger by that
whistle, and sprang to the brakes at once, but the brakesmen were
all at their posts, and soon brought the train to a stop.&nbsp; I
seized my lantern and found my way forward as soon as possible,
when what a sight met my gaze!&nbsp; A bright fire of pine logs
illuminated the track for some distance, and not over forty rods
ahead of our train a horrible gulf had opened its maw to receive
us!</p>
<p>The snow, together with the rain, had torn the whole side of
the mountain out, and eternity itself seemed spread out before
us.&nbsp; The widow Graff and her children had found it out, and
had brought light brush from their home below, and built a large
fire to warn us of our danger.&nbsp; They had been there more
than two hours watching beside that beacon of safety.&nbsp; As I
went up where that old lady stood drenched through by the rain
and sleet, she grasped my arm and cried:</p>
<p>&ldquo;Thank God! Mr. Sherbourn, we stopped you in time.&nbsp;
I would have lost my life before one hair of your head should
have been hurt.&nbsp; Oh, I prayed to heaven that we might stop
the train, and, my God, I thank thee!&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 150--><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
150</span>The children were crying for joy.&nbsp; I confess I
don&rsquo;t very often pray, but I did then and there.&nbsp; I
kneeled down by the side of that good old woman, and offered up
thanks to an All Wise Being for our safe deliverance from a most
terrible death, and called down blessings without number upon
that good old woman and her children.&nbsp; Near by stood the
engineer, fireman, and brakesmen, the tears streaming down their
bronzed cheeks.</p>
<p>I immediately prevailed upon Mrs. Graff and the children to go
back into the cars out of the storm and cold.&nbsp; After
reaching the cars I related our hair-breadth escape, and to whom
we were indebted for our lives, and begged the men passengers to
go forward and see for themselves.&nbsp; They needed no further
urging, and a great many of the ladies went also, regardless of
the storm.&nbsp; They soon returned, and their pale faces gave
full evidence of the frightful death we had escaped.&nbsp; The
ladies and gentlemen vied with each other in their thanks and
heartfelt gratitude towards Mrs. Graff and her children, and
assured her that they would never, never forget her, and before
the widow left the train she was presented with a purse of four
hundred and sixty dollars, the voluntary offering of a whole
train of grateful passengers.&nbsp; She refused the proffered
gift for some time, and said she had only done her duty, and the
knowledge of having done so was all the reward she asked.&nbsp;
However, she finally accepted the money, and said it should go to
educate her children.</p>
<p>The railway company built her a new house, gave her and her
children a life pass over the road, and ordered all trains to
stop and let her get off at home when she wished, but the
employ&eacute;s needed no such orders, they can appreciate all
such kindness&mdash;more so than the directors themselves.</p>
<p>The old lady frequently visits my home at H&mdash; and she is
at all times a welcome visitor at my fireside.&nbsp; Two of the
children are attending school at the same place.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Appleton&rsquo;s American
Railway Anecdote Book</i>.</p>
<h2>A COUNTY COURT JUDGE&rsquo;S FEELING AGAINST RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>In a County Court case at Carlisle, reported in the
<i>Carlisle Journal</i>, of October 31st, 1851, the judge (J. K.
Knowles, Esq.) is represented to have said:&mdash;&ldquo;You may
depend upon it, if <!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 151</span>I could do anything for you, I
would, for I detest all railways.&nbsp; If they get a verdict in
this case it will be the first, and I hope it will be the
last.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RAILWAY TICKETS.</h2>
<p>A writer in that valuable miscellany <i>Household Words</i>,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;About thirteen years ago, a Quaker was
walking in a field in Northumberland, when a thought struck
him.&nbsp; The man who was walking was named Thomas
Edmonson.&nbsp; He had been, though a Friend, not a very
successful man in life.&nbsp; He was a man of integrity and
honour, as he afterwards abundantly proved, but he had been a
bankrupt, and was maintaining himself as a clerk at a small
station on the Newcastle and Carlisle line.&nbsp; In the course
of his duties in this situation, he found it irksome to have to
write on every railway ticket that he delivered.&nbsp; He saw the
clumsiness of the method of tearing the bit of paper off the
printed sheet as it was wanted, and filling it up with pen and
ink.&nbsp; He perceived how much time, trouble, and error might
be saved by the process being done in a mechanical way; and it
was when he set his foot down on a particular spot on the before
mentioned field that the idea struck him how all that he wished
might be done by a machine&mdash;how tickets might be printed
with the names of stations, the class of carriage, the dates of
the month, and all of them from end to end of the kingdom, on one
uniform system.&nbsp; Most inventors accomplish their great deeds
by degrees&mdash;one thought suggesting another from time to
time; but, when Thomas Edmonson showed his family the spot in the
field where his invention occurred to him, he used to say that it
came to his mind complete, in its whole scope and all its
details.&nbsp; Out of it has grown the mighty institution of the
Railway Clearing House; and with it the grand organization by
which the Railways of the United Kingdom act, in regard to the
convenience of individuals, as a unity.&nbsp; We may see at a
glance the difference to every one of us of the present organized
system&mdash;by which we can take our tickets from almost any
place to another, and get into a carriage on almost any of our
great lines, to be conveyed without further care to the opposite
end of the kingdom&mdash;<!-- page 152--><a
name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>and the
unorganized condition of affairs from which Mr. Edmonson rescued
us, whereby we should have been compelled to shift ourselves and
our luggage from time to time, buying new tickets, waiting while
they were filled up, waiting at almost every point of the
journey, and having to do it with divers companies who had
nothing to do with each other but to find fault and be
jealous.</p>
<p>&ldquo;On Mr. Edmonson&rsquo;s machines may be seen the name
of Blaycock; Blaycock was a watchmaker, and an acquaintance of
Edmonson&rsquo;s, and a man whom he knew to be capable of working
out his idea.&nbsp; He told him what he wanted; and Blaycock
understood him, and realized his thought.&nbsp; The third machine
that they made was nearly as good as those now in use.&nbsp; The
one we saw had scarcely wanted five shillings worth of repairs in
five years; and, when it needs more, it will be from sheer
wearing away of the brass-work, by constant hard friction.&nbsp;
The Manchester and Leeds Railway Company were the first to avail
themselves of Mr. Edmonson&rsquo;s invention; and they secured
his services at their station at Oldham Road, for a time.&nbsp;
He took out a patent; and his invention became so widely known
and appreciated, that he soon withdrew himself from all other
engagements, to perfect its details and provide tickets to meet
the daily growing demand.&nbsp; He let out his patent on
profitable terms&mdash;ten shillings per mile per annum; that is,
a railway of thirty miles long paid him fifteen pounds a year for
a license to print its own tickets by his apparatus; and a
railway of sixty miles long paid him thirty pounds, and so
on.&nbsp; As his profits began to come in, he began to spend
them; and it is not the least interesting part of his history to
see how.&nbsp; It has been told that he was a bankrupt early in
life.&nbsp; The very first use he made of his money was to pay
every shilling that he ever owed.&nbsp; Ho was forty-six when he
took that walk in the field in Northumberland.&nbsp; He was
fifty-eight when he died, on the twenty-second of June last
year.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>TAKEN ABACK.</h2>
<p>Four young cavalry officers, travelling by rail, from Boulogne
to Paris, were joined at Amiens by a quiet, elderly gentleman,
who shortly requested that a little of <!-- page 153--><a
name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>one window
might be opened&mdash;a not unreasonable demand, as both were
shut, and all four gentlemen were smoking.&nbsp; But it was
refused, and again refused on being preferred a second time, very
civilly; whereupon the elderly gentleman put his umbrella through
the glass.&nbsp; &ldquo;Shall we stand the impertinence of this
bourgeois?&rdquo; said the officers to one another.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they thrust four cards into his
hand, which he received methodically, and looked carefully at all
four; producing his own, one of which he tendered to each officer
with a bow.&nbsp; Imagine their feelings when they read on
each&mdash;&ldquo;Marshal Randon, Ministre de Guerre.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.</h2>
<p>The engineer of a train near Montreal saw a large dog on the
track.&nbsp; He was barking furiously.&nbsp; The engineer blew
the whistle at him, but he did not stir, and crouching low, he
was struck by the locomotive and killed.&nbsp; There was a bit of
white muslin on the locomotive, and it attracted the attention of
the engineer, who stopped the train and went back.&nbsp; There
lay the dead dog, and a dead child, which had wandered upon the
track and gone to sleep.&nbsp; The dog had given his signal to
stop the train, and had died at his post.</p>
<h2>NARROW ESCAPES FROM BEING LYNCHED.</h2>
<p>A writer in <i>All the Year Round</i>,
observes:&mdash;&ldquo;A dreadful accident down in
&lsquo;Illonoy,&rsquo; had particularly struck me as a warning;
for there, while the shattered bodies were still being drawn from
under the piles of shivered carriages, the driver on being
expostulated with, had replied:</p>
<p>&lsquo;I suppose this ain&rsquo;t the first railway accident
by long chalks!&rsquo;</p>
<p>Upon which the indignant passengers were with difficulty
prevented from lynching the wretch; but he fled into the woods,
and there for a time escaped pursuit.</p>
<p>But, two other railway journeys pressed more peculiarly on my
mind; one was that of eight or ten weeks ago, from Canandaigua to
Antrim.&nbsp; It was there a gentleman from Baltimore, fresh from
Chicago, told me of a railway accident he had himself been
witness to, only two days before I met <!-- page 154--><a
name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>him.&nbsp;
The 2.40 (night) train from Toledo to Chicago, in which he rode,
was upset near Pocahontas by two logs that had evidently been
wilfully laid across the rails.&nbsp; On inquiry at the next
station, it was discovered that a farmer who had had, a week
before, two stray calves killed near the same place, had been
heard at a liquor store to say he would &lsquo;pay them out for
his calves.&rsquo;&nbsp; This was enough for the excited
passengers, vexed at the detention, and enraged at the malice
that had exposed them to danger and death.&nbsp; A posse of them
instantly sallied out, beleaguered the farmer&rsquo;s house,
seized him after some resistance, put a rope round his neck,
dragged him to the nearest tree, and would have then and there
lynched him, had not two or three of the passengers rescued him,
revolver in hand, and given him up to the nearest
magistrate.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>CURIOUS NOTICE.</h2>
<p>The following notice, for the benefit of English travellers,
was exhibited some years ago in the carriage of a Dutch
railway:&mdash;&ldquo;You are requested not to put no heads nor
arms out of te windows.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>OBTAINING INFORMATION.</h2>
<p>But one of the most difficult things in the world is the
levity with which people talk about &ldquo;obtaining
information.&rdquo;&nbsp; As if information were as easy to pick
up as stones!&nbsp; &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t so hard to nuss the
sick,&rdquo; said a hired nurse, &ldquo;as some people might
think; the most of &rsquo;em doesn&rsquo;t want nothing, and them
as does doesn&rsquo;t get it.&rdquo;&nbsp; Parodying this, one
might say, it is much harder to &ldquo;obtain information&rdquo;
than some people think; the most don&rsquo;t know anything, and
those who do don&rsquo;t say what they know.&nbsp; Here is a real
episode from the history of an inquiry, which took place four or
five years ago, into the desirability of making a new line of
railway on the Border.&nbsp; A witness was giving what is called
&ldquo;traffic evidence,&rdquo; in justification of the alleged
need of the railway, and this is what occurred:&mdash;</p>
<p><!-- page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
155</span><i>Mr. Brown</i> (the cross-examining counsel for the
opponents of the new line)&mdash;Do you mean to tell the
committee that you ever saw an inhabited house in that
valley?</p>
<p><i>Witness</i>&mdash;Yes I do.</p>
<p><i>Mr. Brown</i>&mdash;Did you ever see a vehicle there in
your life?</p>
<p><i>Witness</i>&mdash;Yes, I did.</p>
<p><i>Mr. Brown</i>&mdash;Very good.</p>
<p>Some other questions were put, which led to nothing
particular: but, just as the witness&mdash;a Scotchman&mdash;was
leaving the box, the learned gentleman put one more
question:&mdash;</p>
<p><i>Q</i>.&mdash;I am instructed to ask you, if the vehicle you
saw was not the hearse of the last inhabitant?</p>
<p><i>Answer</i>&mdash;It was.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Cornhill Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>THE GOAT AND THE RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>In Prussian Poland the goods and cattle trains are prohibited
from carrying passengers under any conditions, and, however
urgent their necessities, the only exception allowed being the
herd-keepers in charge of cattle.&nbsp; So strictly is this
regulation enforced that even medical men are not allowed to go
by them when called for on an emergency, and where life and death
may be the result of their quick transit.&nbsp; This is generally
considered a great hardship, the more so as there are only two
passenger trains daily on the above railroads.&nbsp; But the
inventive genius of a small German innkeeper at Lissa has hit
upon a clever plan of circumventing the government regulations in
a perfectly legitimate manner.&nbsp; He keeps a goat, which he
hires out to persons wanting to proceed in a hurry by a cattle
train, at the rate of 6d. per station, the passenger then
applying for a ticket as the person in charge of the goat, which
he obtains without any difficulty.&nbsp; In this manner a
well-known nobleman, residing at Lissa, is frequently seen
travelling by the cattle train to Posen, in the passenger&rsquo;s
carriage, and the goat is so tame that a very slender silk ribbon
suffices to keep it from straying.</p>
<h2><!-- page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 156</span>THE FIRST RAILWAY IN THE
CRIMEA.</h2>
<p>During the Russian War, in 1854, when the whole country was
horror-struck with the report of the sufferings endured by our
brave soldiers in the Crimea, Mr. Peto, in the most noble and
disinterested manner, and at the cost of his seat in the House of
Commons for Norwich&mdash;which city he had represented for
several years&mdash;constructed for the Government a line of
railway from Balaclava to the English camp before Sebastopol,
which at the end of the war, with its various branches, was 37
English miles in length and had 10 locomotives on it.&nbsp; In
recognition of this patriotic service the honour of a baronetcy
was, in the following year, conferred upon him by Her
Majesty.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Old Jonathan</i>.</p>
<h2>THE BALACLAVA RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>The following interesting extract from a communication to the
<i>Times</i>, by Sir Morton Peto, Bart., respecting the
construction of the railway from Balaclava to the British camp is
worthy of preservation.&nbsp; Sir Morton remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;It
was in the midst of the dreary winter of 1854, when the British
army was suffering unparalleled hardships before Sebastopol, that
it was resolved to construct a railway from Balaclava to the
British camp.&nbsp; Let honour be given where honour is
due.&mdash;The idea emanated from the Duke of Newcastle.&nbsp;
His Grace applied to our firm to assist in carrying out the
design.&nbsp; The sympathies of all England were excited at the
time by the sufferings of our troops.&nbsp; Every one was emulous
to contribute all that could be contributed to their succour and
support.&nbsp; The firm of which I am a partner was anxious to
take its share in the good work, and, on the Duke of
Newcastle&rsquo;s application, we cheerfully undertook to make
all the arrangements for carrying his Grace&rsquo;s views into
execution, on the understanding that the work should be
considered National; and that we should be permitted to execute
it without any charge for profit.</p>
<p>We accordingly placed at the disposal of Her Majesty&rsquo;s
Government the whole of our resources.&nbsp; We fitted out
transports with the stores necessary for the construction of the
railway; employed and equipped hundreds of men to <!-- page
157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
157</span>execute the works; provided a commissariat exclusively
for their use; engaged medical officers to attend to their
health, and placed the whole service under the direction of the
most experienced agents on our staff.&nbsp; These important
preliminaries were arranged so effectually, and with so much
despatch, that the Emperor of the French sent an agent to this
country to instruct himself as to the mode in which we equipped
the expedition.</p>
<p>Every item shipped by us for the works was valued before
shipment at its selling price; and for all these items of
valuation, as well as for the payments which we made for labour,
we received the certificate of the most eminent engineer of the
day (the late lamented Mr. Robert Stephenson).&nbsp; We undertook
the execution of the Balaclava Railway as a
&lsquo;National&rsquo; work, agreeing to execute it without
profit.&nbsp; We performed our contract to the letter.&nbsp; We
never profited by it to the extent of a single shilling.</p>
<p>The works (nearly seven miles of railway) were executed in
less than a month; an incredibly short space of time, considering
the season of the year, the severity of the climate, and the
difficulties to which, considering the distance from home, we
were all of us exposed.&nbsp; It is a matter of history that they
eventuated in the taking of the great fortress of
Sebastopol.&nbsp; Before the railway was made, all the shot, all
the shell, and all the ammunition necessary for the siege, had to
be carried from Balaclava to the camp, a distance of five miles
up hill, through mud and sludge, upon the backs of the
soldiers.&nbsp; An immense proportion of our troops was told off
for this most laborious service; of whom no less than 25 per cent
per month perished in its execution.&nbsp; On the day the railway
was opened, it carried to the camp of the British army, in 24
hours, more shot and shell than had been brought from Balaclava
for six weeks previously.</p>
<p>To our principal agent in the Crimea, the late Mr. Beattie,
the greatest credit was due for the way in which the arrangements
were made, and the work executed on that side.&nbsp; Mr.
Beattie&rsquo;s labours were so arduous, and his efforts so
untiring, that he died of fatigue within six weeks after the
completion of the work&mdash;a victim, absolutely, to his
unparalleled exertions.&nbsp; The only favour in connection <!--
page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
158</span>with these works which the Duke of Newcastle ever
granted at our request, he granted to the family of this lamented
gentleman.&nbsp; Mr. Beattie left a widow and four children to
deplore his loss, and through the favour of the Duke of
Newcastle, the widow, who now resides with her father, an
estimable clergyman in the North of Ireland, enjoys a pension as
the widow of a colonel falling in the field.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>PASSENGERS AND OTHER CATTLE.</h2>
<p>At the Eastern Counties meeting (1854) the solicitor cut short
a clause about passengers, animals, and cattle, by reading it
&ldquo;passengers and other cattle.&rdquo;&nbsp; We do not
recollect passengers having been classed with cattle
before.&nbsp; Perhaps the learned gentleman&rsquo;s eyesight was
defective, or the print was not very clear.</p>
<h2>EXPANSION OF RAILS.</h2>
<p>Robert Routledge, in his article upon railways,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;It may easily be seen on looking at a line
of rails that they are not laid with the ends quite touching each
other, or, at least, they are not usually in contact.&nbsp; The
reason of this is that space must be allowed for the expansion
which takes place when a rise in the temperature occurs.&nbsp;
The neglect of this precaution has sometimes led to damage and
accidents.&nbsp; A certain railway was opened in June, and, after
an excursion train had in the morning passed over it, the midday
heat so expanded the iron that the rails became, in some places,
elevated to two feet above the level, and the sleepers were torn
up; so that in order to admit the return of the train, the rails
had to be fully relaid in a kind of zigzag.&nbsp; In June, 1856,
a train was thrown off the metals of the North-Eastern Railway,
in consequence of the rails rising up through
expansion.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A SMART REJOINDER.</h2>
<p>An American railway employ&eacute; asked for a pass down to
visit his family.&nbsp; &ldquo;You are in the employ of the
railway?&rdquo; asked the gentleman applied to.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;You receive your pay
regularly?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,
now, suppose you were working for a farmer, instead of a railway,
would you <!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 159</span>expect your employer to hitch up his
team every Saturday night and carry you home?&rdquo;&nbsp; This
seemed a poser, but it wasn&rsquo;t.&nbsp; &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said
the man promptly, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t expect that; but if the
farmer had his team hitched up and was going my way, I should
call him a contemptible fellow if he would not let me
ride.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Employ&eacute; came out three minutes
afterwards with a pass good for three months.</p>
<h2>COURTING ON A RAILWAY THIRTY MILES AN HOUR.</h2>
<p>An incident occurred on the Little Miami Railway which
outstrips, in point of speed and enterprise, although in a
somewhat different field, the lightning express,
&ldquo;fifty-cents-a-mile&rdquo; special train achievement which
attended the delivery of the recent famous &ldquo;defalcation
report&rdquo; in this city.&nbsp; The facts are about thus: A
lady, somewhat past that period of life which <i>the world</i>
would term &ldquo;young&rdquo;&mdash;although she might differ
from them&mdash;was on her way to this city, for purposes
connected with active industry.&nbsp; At a point on the road a
traveller took the train, who happened to enter the car in which
the young lady occupied a seat.&nbsp; After walking up and down
between the seats, the gentleman found no unoccupied seat, except
the one-half of that upon which the lady had deposited her
precious self and crinoline&mdash;the latter very modestly
expansive.&nbsp; Making a virtue of necessity&mdash;a
&ldquo;stand-ee&rdquo; berth or a little self-assurance&mdash;he
modestly inquired if the lady had a fellow-traveller, and took a
seat.</p>
<p>As the train flew along with express speed, the strangers
entered into a cosy conversation, and mutual explanations.&nbsp;
The gentleman was pleased, and the lady certainly did not
pout.&nbsp; After other subjects had been discussed, and worn
thread-bare, the lady made inquiries as to the price of a sewing
machine, and where such an article could be purchased in this
city.&nbsp; The gentleman ventured the opinion that she had
&ldquo;better secure a husband first.&rdquo;&nbsp; This opened
the way for another branch of conversation, and the broken field
was industriously cultivated.</p>
<p>By the time the train arrived at the depot in this city, the
gentleman had proposed and been accepted (although the lady
afterwards declared she regarded it all as a good joke).&nbsp;
The party separated; the gentleman, all in good <!-- page
160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
160</span>earnest, started for a license, and the lady made her
way to a boarding-house on Broadway, above Third, for
dinner.&nbsp; At two o&rsquo;clock the gentleman returned with a
license and a Justice, to the great astonishment of the fair one,
and after a few tears and half-remonstrative expressions, she
submitted with becoming modesty, and the Squire performed the
little ceremony in a twinkling.&nbsp; If this is not a fast
country, a search-warrant would hardly succeed in finding
one.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Cincinnati
Commercial</i>.</p>
<h2>THE MERCHANT AND HIS CLERK.</h2>
<p>A London merchant resided a few miles from the City, in an
elegant mansion, to and from which he journeyed daily, and
invariably by third class.&nbsp; It happened that one of the
clerks in his employ lived in a cottage accessible by the same
line of railway, but he always travelled first class; the same
train thus presenting the anomaly of the master being in that
place which one would naturally assign to the man, and the man
appearing to usurp the position of the master.&nbsp; One day
these two alighted at the terminus in full view of each
other.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. B&mdash;, in that tone
of banter which a superior so frequently thinks it becoming to
adopt, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know how you manage to ride
first-class, when in these hard times I find third-class fare as
much as I can afford.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; replied the
clerk, &ldquo;you, who are known to be a person of wealth and
position, may adopt the most economical mode of travelling at no
more risk than being thought eccentric, and even with the
applause of some for your manifest absence of pride.&nbsp; But,
as for myself, I cannot afford to indulge in such
irregularities.&nbsp; Among the persons I travel with I am
reported to be a well-paid <i>employ&eacute;</i>, and am
respected accordingly; to maintain this reputation I am compelled
to travel in the same manner as they do, and were I to adopt an
inferior mode, it would be attributed to some serious falling off
of income; a circumstance which would occasion me not only loss
of consideration among my <i>quondam</i> fellow-travellers, but
one which, upon coming to the ears of my butcher, baker, and
grocer, might seriously injure my credit with those highly <!--
page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
161</span>respectable, but certainly worldly minded
tradesmen.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. B&mdash; was not slow in recognizing
the full force of the argument, more particularly as the question
of his own liberality was involved, nor did he hesitate to give
it a practical application by immediately increasing the salary
of his clerk; not only to the amount of a first-class season
ticket, but something over.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Railway
Traveller&rsquo;s Handy Book</i>.</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE WILL.</h2>
<p>Some years ago an old gentleman of very eccentric habits, Mr.
John Younghusband, of Abbey Holme, Cumberland, died, and his will
has proved to be of the most eccentric character.&nbsp; The
Silloth Railway runs through part of his property, an arrangement
to which he was most passionately averse; and though years have
elapsed since then, his bitterness was in no way assuaged.&nbsp;
In his will he leaves near &pound;1000 to a solicitor who opposed
the making of the railway; the rest of his money he bequeaths to
a comparative stranger upon these conditions&mdash;that the
legatee never speaks to one of the directors of the railway, that
he never travels upon it, that he never sends cattle or other
traffic by it; and should he violate any of these conditions, the
estate reverts to the ordinary succession.&nbsp; To Mr. John
Irving and the other directors of the Silloth line Mr.
Younghusband has sarcastically bequeathed a <i>farthing</i>.</p>
<h2>IMMENSE FRAUD ON THE GREAT-NORTHERN RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>In the <i>Annual Register</i> for 1856, November 14th, we
read, &ldquo;Another fraud connected with the transfer of shares
and stock, but on a far grander scale, and by a much more
pretentious criminal, has been discovered.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Of late some strange discrepancies had been observed in
the accounts of the Great-Northern Railway Company, and in
particular that the amount paid for dividends considerably
exceeded the rateable proportion to the capital stock.&nbsp; An
investigation was directed.&nbsp; The registrar of shares, Mr.
Leopold Redpath, expressed a decided opinion that the
investigation into his department would be useless, and, on its
being pressed, absconded.&nbsp; The investigation developed a
long-continued system of frauds of vast amount, to the amount, it
was said, of nearly &pound;250,000.</p>
<p><!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
162</span>&ldquo;Mr. Leopold Redpath passed in society as a
gentleman of ample means, great taste, and possessed of the
Christian virtue of charity in no common degree.&nbsp; He had a
house in Chester Terrace, handsomely furnished, and a
&ldquo;place&rdquo; at Weybridge complete with every luxury that
wealth could procure; gave good dinners with excellent wines;
kept good horses and neat carriages.&nbsp; He was a governor of
Christ&rsquo;s Hospital, the St. Ann&rsquo;s Schools, and
subscribed freely to the most useful charities of London.&nbsp;
His appointment on the Great-Northern was worth &pound;300 per
annum; but it was supposed that this was only of consequence to
Mr. Redpath as affording him a regular occupation and an
opportunity of operating in the share-market, in which he was
known to have extensive dealings.&nbsp; The directors of the
railway appear to have been perfectly aware that their servant
was living far beyond his salary, but they considered him to be a
very successful speculator.&nbsp; Upon this splendid bubble being
blown up, Redpath fled to Paris; but, finding that the French
authorities were not inclined to protect him, he returned to
London and surrendered himself.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The mode in which this gigantic swindler had committed
his frauds is simple enough.&nbsp; Having charge of the books in
which the stock of the company is registered, he altered the sum
standing in the name of some <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> stockholder
to a much larger sum, generally by placing a figure before it, by
which simple means &pound;500 became &pound;1,500, or
&pound;2,500, or any larger number of thousands.&nbsp; The
surplus stock thus <i>created</i> Redpath sold in the
stock-market, forging the name of the supposed transferer,
transferring the sum to the account of the supposed transferee in
the register, and either attesting it himself, or causing it to
be attested by a young man, his proteg&eacute; and tool, but who
appears to have been free from guilty cognizance.&nbsp; In some
instances the fraud was but the more direct course of making a
fictitious entry of stock, and then selling it.&nbsp; By these
processes the number of shareholders and the amount of stock on
the company&rsquo;s register became greatly magnified, while, as
the <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> holders of stock remained credited
with their proper investments, there was no occasion for
suspicion on their part.&nbsp; How Redpath dealt with subsequent
transfers of the fictitious stock does not appear.&nbsp; The
prisoner was subjected <!-- page 163--><a
name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>to repeated
examination before the police magistrates, when this prodigious
falsification was thoroughly sifted, and the prisoner was finally
committed for trial at the Central Criminal Court in the
following year.&nbsp; It is said that the value of the leases,
furniture, and articles of taste in Redpath&rsquo;s house in
Chester Terrace is estimated at &pound;30,000, and at Weybridge
at a still larger sum.&nbsp; It is also said that Redpath and
Robson, whose forged transfer of Crystal Palace shares has been
recorded in this chronicle, were formerly fellow clerks.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Lionel Redpath was tried, January 16th, 1857, at the
Central Criminal Court, and, being found guilty, was sentenced to
transportation for life.&nbsp; At the same time a junior clerk in
his office, Charles Kent, was also charged as his partner in the
crime.&nbsp; It appeared that Kent had acted on many occasions as
attesting witness to the forged transfers which Redpath had
employed to carry out his ends; but, as no guilty knowledge on
the part of the former was shown, he was acquitted.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The railway company at first attempted to repudiate the
forged stock which Redpath had put into circulation, but pressing
remonstrances, not unaccompanied by threats, having been made by
the Committee of the Stock Exchange, they consented to
acknowledge it.&nbsp; Then came the question by whom the loss was
to be borne; a question which was not solved until after
considerable litigation.&nbsp; The directors asserted that it
ought to be paid out of the current income of the year, and so it
was ultimately decided.&nbsp; This led to a further question
between the guaranteed shareholders and the rest of the
company.&nbsp; For the diminution of the year&rsquo;s earnings
caused by taking up the fictitious stock being so great as to
render it impossible to satisfy the guaranteed dividends out of
the residue, it was contended on the part of the holders of those
shares that, by the provisions of the deed of settlement, the
deficiency ought to be made up out of the next year&rsquo;s
profits, so that the guarantee that they should receive their
specified dividends was not clogged with the condition in case a
sufficient amount of earnings in each year was made to pay
them.&nbsp; This dispute led to a Chancery suit, the decree in
which was in favour of the holders of the guaranteed
shares.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 164--><a name="page164"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 164</span>A LOST TICKET.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Now, then, make haste there, will you, an&rsquo; give
up your ticket,&rdquo; exclaimed a railway guard to a bandsman in
the Volunteers returning from a review.&nbsp; &ldquo;Didna I tell
ye I&rsquo;ve lost it?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Nonsense, man; feel in
your pockets, you cannot hae lost it.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Can I
no?&rdquo; was the drunken reply; &ldquo;man, that&rsquo;s
naething, I&rsquo;ve lost the big drum!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT.&mdash;SINGULAR ACTION.</h2>
<p>The <i>Annual Register</i> contains the following interesting
case.&nbsp; July 25, 1857.&mdash;At the Maidstone Assizes an
action arising out of a singular and melancholy accident was
tried.&nbsp; The action, Shilling <i>v.</i> The Accidental
Insurance Company, was brought by Charlotte Shilling, widow and
administratrix of Thomas Shilling, to recover from the defendants
the sum of &pound;2000, upon a policy effected by the deceased on
the life of her father-in-law, James Shilling.&nbsp; The husband
of the plaintiff, Thomas Shilling, carried on the business of a
builder at Malling, a short distance from Maidstone.&nbsp; His
father, James Shilling, lived with him; he was nearly 80 years
old, and very infirm, and his son used to drive him about
occasionally in his pony chaise.&nbsp; In the month of March,
last year, an application was made to the defendants to effect
two policies for &pound;2000 each upon the lives of Thomas
Shilling and James Shilling, and to secure that sum in the event
of either of them dying from an accident, and the policies were
completed and delivered in the following month of June.&nbsp; On
the evening of the 11th of July, 1856, about half-past 7
o&rsquo;clock, the father and son went from Malling with a pony
and chaise, for the purpose of proceeding to a stone quarry at
Aylesford, where Thomas Shilling had business to transact, and
they never returned home again alive.&nbsp; There where two roads
by which they could have got to the quarry from Malling, one of
which was rather a dangerous one to be taken with a vehicle and
horse, on account of a steep bank leading to the river Medway
being on one side and the railway passing close to the other; but
this route, it appears, was much shorter than the other, which
was nearly two miles round, and it was consequently constantly
used both by pedestrians and <!-- page 165--><a
name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
165</span>carriages.&nbsp; About 8 o&rsquo;clock the pony and
chaise and the father and son were seen on this road, and upon
arriving at the gate leading to the quarry, Thomas Shilling got
out, leaving the pony and chaise in charge of his father.&nbsp;
Mr. Garnham, the owner of the quarry, was not at home, and while
one of the labourers was conversing with Thomas Shilling, the
sound of an approaching train was heard, and the men advised him
to go back to his pony, for fear it should take fright at the
train, and he said he would do so, as it had been frightened by a
train on a previous occasion.&nbsp; He accordingly went towards
the gate where he had left the pony and chaise, and from that
time there was no evidence to show what took place.&nbsp; The
family sat up the whole night awaiting the return of their
relatives in the utmost possible alarm at their absence; but
nothing was heard of them until the following morning, when a
bargeman found the drowned pony and the chaise and the dead
bodies of the father and son floating in the Medway, near the
spot where the chaise had been last seen on the previous
evening.&nbsp; They were taken home, and a coroner&rsquo;s
inquest was held, and the only conclusion that could be arrived
at was that the pony had taken fright at the noise of the train,
which appeared to have passed about the time, and that he had
jumped into the river, which at this spot was from 12 to 14 feet
deep.</p>
<p>The policy on the life of the father had been assigned to the
son, whose widow claimed the two sums insured from the
defendants.&nbsp; That payable on the death of the son they paid:
but they refused to pay that due on the father&rsquo;s policy,
and pleaded to the action several pleas, alleging certain
violations of the conditions; and singularly enough, considering
that they had not disputed the son&rsquo;s policy on the same
ground, they now pleaded that the death was not the result of
accident, but arose from wanton and voluntary exposure to
unnecessary danger.</p>
<p>The jury found a verdict for the plaintiff.</p>
<h2>A CATASTROPHE.</h2>
<p>An old lady was going from Brookfield to Stamford, and took a
seat in the train for the first and last time in her life.&nbsp;
During the ride the train was thrown down an <!-- page 166--><a
name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
166</span>embankment.&nbsp; Crawling from beneath the
<i>d&eacute;bris</i> unhurt, she spied a man sitting down, but
with his legs laid down by some heavy timber.&nbsp; &ldquo;Is
this Stamford?&rdquo; she anxiously inquired.&nbsp; &ldquo;No,
madam,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;this is a
catastrophe.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried,
&ldquo;then I hadn&rsquo;t oughter got off here.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>WEDDING AT A RAILWAY STATION.</h2>
<p>Baltimore has had what it calls a romantic wedding at Camden
Station.&nbsp; A few moments before the departure of the outbound
Washington train, a gentleman accompanied by a lady and another
gentleman, whose clerical appearance indicated his profession,
alighted from a carriage and entered the depot.&nbsp; Upon the
locks of the leader of the party the snows of fifty winters had
evidently fallen, while the lady had apparently reached that age
when she is supposed to have lain aside her matrimonial
cap.&nbsp; Quietly approaching the officer on duty within the
station, they asked for a room where a marriage ceremony might be
privately performed.&nbsp; The request was readily granted, and
under the leadership of the obliging officer, the party was
conducted to the despatch room, a small lobby in the eastern part
of the building, where in a few minutes the twain were made man
and wife.&nbsp; With pleasant smiles, and a
would-be-congratulated look upon their countenances, they mingled
with the crowd in waiting; and when the gates were thrown open,
arm in arm they boarded the train, their fellow-passengers all
the while ignorant of the interesting ceremony.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Illustrated World</i>.</p>
<h2>ENGINE FASCINATION.</h2>
<p>The fascination which engines and their human satellites
exercise over some minds is very great; and while speaking on the
subject, I am reminded of a young man who haunted for years one
of our chief termini: he was the son of a leading west end
confectioner, so that his early training had in no way disposed
him to an engineering life; but he was the most remarkable
accumulation of statistics in connection therewith I ever
knew.&nbsp; The line employed several <!-- page 167--><a
name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>hundreds of
engines, and he not only knew the names of all of them, but when
they were made, and who had made them; when each one had last
been supplied with a new set of tubes at the factory&mdash;this
last, of course only referred to the engines employed on the main
line, which he had an opportunity of seeing, and would miss when
they were laid up for repair&mdash;and how this had had the
pressure on its safety-valve increased, and this had been
diminished.&nbsp; He had such a retentive memory for these and
kindred facts, that I have seen the foreman of the works appeal
to him for information, which was never lacking.&nbsp; His
penchant was so well known that he had special permission for
access to the works.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Chambers&rsquo;s
Journal</i>.</p>
<h2>COMPETITION FOR PASSENGERS.</h2>
<p>Mr. Galt remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;In the summer of 1857 the
London and North-Western and Great Northern railways contended
with each other for the passenger traffic from London to
Manchester.&nbsp; First-class and second-class passengers were
conveyed at fares, there and back, of seven and sixpence and five
shillings respectively, the distance being 400 miles, and four
clear days were allowed in Manchester.&nbsp; As might have been
expected, trains were well filled, and, but for the fact that the
other traffic was much interfered with, the fares would, it is
said, have been remunerative.&nbsp; As it was, it is said the
shareholders lost 1 per cent. dividend.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Another memorable contest was carried on about the year
1853 between the Caledonian and the Edinburgh and Glasgow
Companies.&nbsp; The latter suddenly reduced the fares between
Edinburgh and Glasgow for the three classes from eight shillings,
six shillings, and four shillings, to one shilling, ninepence,
and sixpence.&nbsp; The contest was continued for
a-year-and-a-half, and cost the Edinburgh and Glasgow Company
nearly 1 per cent. in their dividends.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ACCIDENT HOAX.</h2>
<p>The following impudent hoax, contained in a letter which
appeared in the <i>Times</i> in 1860, was most annoying to the
officials of the Great Northern Company.&nbsp; It is
headed:&mdash;</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 168--><a
name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
168</span>&ldquo;Accident on the Great Northern Railway.<br />
&ldquo;To the Editor of the <i>Times</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&mdash;I beg to inform you of a serious accident,
attended by severe injury, if not loss of life, which occured
to-day to the 8 o&rsquo;clock a.m. train from Wakefield, on the
Great Northern railway, near Doncaster, by which I was a
passenger.&nbsp; As the train approached Doncaster, about 9
o&rsquo;clock, the passengers were suddenly alarmed by the
vehement oscillation of the carriages.&nbsp; In a few seconds the
engine had run off the line, dragging the greater part of the
train with it across the opposite line of rails.&nbsp; By this
time the concussion had become so vehement that the grappling
chains connecting the engine, tender, and first carriage with the
rest of the train providentially snapped.&nbsp; This circumstance
saved the lives of many.&nbsp; But the engine, tender, and first
carriage were hurled over the embankment, all three being
together overturned, and the latter (a second-class one) nearly
crushed.&nbsp; The stoker was severely injured on the head, and
his recovery is more than doubtful; the engine driver contrived
to leap off in time to save himself with a few bruises.&nbsp; The
shrieks of the passengers in the overturned carriage (three women
and five men) were fearful; and for some time their extrication
was impossible.&nbsp; One middle-aged woman had her thigh broken,
another her arm fractured.&nbsp; One old man had one, if not two
of his ribs broken.&nbsp; The passengers in the other carriages,
in one of which I was travelling, were less seriously injured,
though sufficiently so to talk about compensation, instead of
assisting in earnest those with broken limbs.&nbsp; The line of
rails was torn up for a considerable distance.&nbsp; Owing to the
telegraph being out of gear, some delay in communicating with
Doncaster was experienced.&nbsp; A surgeon and various hands at
length arrived with a special train for the injured passengers,
who, after long delay, were removed to Doncaster.&nbsp; I, of
course, as a medical man, rendered what assistance I could.&nbsp;
Those worst injured were conveyed to the Railway Arms, the
recovery of more than one being doubted by myself.&nbsp; At
length a fresh train started from Doncaster, and we reached
London nearly two hours after due.</p>
<p><!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
169</span>The carelessness of the Company will, I hope, be the
subject of your severest animadversion.&nbsp; The accident was
caused by the tire of one of the right wheels of the engine
having flown off; and it is clear that the engine was not in a
condition to ply between the stations of the Great Northern
railway.</p>
<p>I have no objection to your use of my name if you think fit to
publish it.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">Your obedient servant,<br />
Thomas Waddington, M.D., of Wakefield.<br />
Morley&rsquo;s Hotel, Charing Cross, March 26.</p>
<p>To the above letter the following reply was sent to the
<i>Times</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">&ldquo;Alleged Accident on the
Great Northern.<br />
&ldquo;To the Editor of the <i>Times</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&mdash;The Directors of the Great Northern railway
will feel much obliged by the insertion of the following
statement in the <i>Times</i> to-morrow relative to a letter
which appeared therein to-day, signed &lsquo;Thomas Waddington,
M.D., of Wakefield,&rsquo; and headed, &lsquo;Accident on the
Great Northern railway.&rsquo;</p>
<p>There was no accident whatever yesterday on the Great Northern
railway.</p>
<p>The trains all reached King&rsquo;s Cross with punctuality,
the most irregular in the whole day being only five minutes
late.&nbsp; No such person as Thomas Waddington is known at
Morley&rsquo;s Hotel, whence the letter in question is dated.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">I am, Sir, yours faithfully,<br />
Seymour Clark, General Manager,<br />
King&rsquo;s Cross, March 27.</p>
<p>In the <i>Times</i> on the day following appeared a letter
from the real Dr. Waddington, of Wakefield, (Edward not
&ldquo;Thomas&rdquo;) confirmatory of the impudence of the
hoax.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">&ldquo;The alleged Accident on the
Great Northern railway.<br />
&ldquo;To the Editor of the <i>Times</i>.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&mdash;My attention has been called to a letter in
the <i>Times</i> of yesterday (signed &lsquo;Thomas Waddington,
M.D., of Wakefield&rsquo;) the signature of which is as gross and
impudent a fabrication as the circumstances which the writer
professes to detail.&nbsp; I need only say there is no
&lsquo;M.D.&rsquo; here <!-- page 170--><a
name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>named
Waddington but myself, and that I was not on the Great Northern
or any other Railway on the 26th inst, when the accident is
alleged to have occured.</p>
<p>Having obtained possession of the original letter, I have
handed it to my solicitors, in the hope that they may be enabled
to discover and bring to justice the perpetrator of this very
stupid hoax.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">I am, Sir, your obedient servant,<br
/>
Edward Waddington, M.D.</p>
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Wakefield, March 28.</p>
<h2>A&rsquo;PENNY A MILE.</h2>
<p>Two costers were looking at a railway time-table.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Say, Jem,&rdquo; said one of them, &ldquo;vot&rsquo;s
P.M. mean?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vy, penny a mile, to be sure.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vell, vot&rsquo;s A.M.?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;A&rsquo;penny a mile, to be sure.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SINGULAR FREAK.</h2>
<p>In October, 1857, Mr. Tindal Atkinson applied to Mr. Hammill,
at Worship Street Police Court, to obtain a summons under the
following strange circumstances:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Mr. Atkinson stated that he was instructed on behalf of
the Directors of the Eastern Counties Railway Company to apply to
the magistrate under the terms of their Act of Incorporation, for
a summons against Mr. Henry Hunt, of Waltham-Cross, Essex, for
having unlawfully used and worked a certain locomotive upon a
portion of their line, without having previously obtained the
permission or approval of the engineers or agents of the company,
whereby he had rendered himself liable to a penalty of
&pound;20.&nbsp; He should confine himself to that by stating
that in the dark, on the night of Thursday, the 1st instant, a
locomotive engine belonging to Mr. Hunt was suddenly discovered
by some of the company&rsquo;s servants to be running along the
rails in close proximity to one of the regular passenger trains
on the North Woolwich line.&nbsp; So great was the danger of a
collision, that they were obliged to instantly stop the train
till the stranger engine could get out of the way, to the great
terror of the passengers by the train, and <!-- page 171--><a
name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 171</span>as he was
instructed it was almost the result of a merciful interposition
of Providence that a collision had not occurred between them, in
which event it would probably have terminated fatally, to a
greater or lesser extent.&nbsp; He now desired that summonses
might be granted not only against the owner of the engine so
used, but also against the driver and stoker of it, both of whom,
it was obvious, must have been well aware of their committing an
unlawful act, and of the perilous nature of the service in which
they were engaged when they were running an engine at such a time
and place.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Mr. Hammill said it certainly was a most extraordinary
proceeding for anyone to adopt, and after the learned
gentleman&rsquo;s statement he had no hesitation whatever in
granting summonses against the whole of the persons engaged in
it.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A.B.C. AND D.E.F.</h2>
<p>A gentleman travelling in a railway carriage was endeavouring,
with considerable earnestness, to impress some argument upon a
fellow-traveller who was seated opposite to him, and who appeared
rather dull of apprehension.&nbsp; At length, being slightly
irritated, he exclaimed in a louder tone, &ldquo;Why, sir,
it&rsquo;s as plain as A.B.C.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;That may
be,&rdquo; quietly replied the other, &ldquo;but I am
D.E.F.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>NATIONAL CONTRAST.</h2>
<p>The contrast which exists between the character of the French
and English navvy may be briefly exemplified by the following
trifling anecdote:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;In excavating a portion of the first tunnel east of
Rouen towards Paris, a French miner dressed in his blouse, and an
English &ldquo;navvy&rdquo; in his white smock jacket, were
suddenly buried alive together by the falling in of the earth
behind them.&nbsp; Notwithstanding the violent commotion which
the intelligence of the accident excited above ground, Mr. Meek,
the English engineer who was constructing the work, after having
quietly measured the distance from the shaft to the sunken
ground, satisfied himself that if the men, at the moment of the
accident, were at the head of &ldquo;the drift&rdquo; at which
they were working, they would be safe.</p>
<p><!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
172</span>Accordingly, getting together as many French and
English labourers as he could collect, he instantly commenced
sinking a shaft, which was accomplished to the depth of 50 feet
in the extraordinary short space of eleven hours, and the men
were thus brought up to the surface alive.</p>
<p>The Frenchman, on reaching the top, suddenly rushing forward,
hugged and saluted on both cheeks his friends and acquaintances,
many of whom had assembled, and then, almost instantly
overpowered by conflicting feelings&mdash;by the recollection of
the endless time he had been imprisoned and by the joy of his
release&mdash;he sat down on a log of timber, and, putting both
his hands before his face, he began to cry aloud most
bitterly.</p>
<p>The English &ldquo;navvy&rdquo; sat himself down on the very
same piece of timber&mdash;took his pit-cap off his
head&mdash;slowly wiped with it the perspiration from his hair
and face&mdash;and then, looking for some seconds into the hole
or shaft close beside him through which he had been lifted, as if
he were calculating the number of cubic yards that had been
excavated, he quite coolly, in broad Lancashire dialect, said to
the crowd of French and English who were staring at him, as
children and nursery-maids in our London Zoological Gardens stand
gazing half-terrified at the white bear, &ldquo;<span
class="smcap">Yaw&rsquo;ve bean a darmnation short toime abaaowt
it</span>!&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">Sir F. Head&rsquo;s <i>Stokers and
Pokers</i>.</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>The most remarkable railway accident on record happened some
years ago on the North-Western road between London and
Liverpool.&nbsp; A gentleman and his wife were travelling in a
compartment alone, when&mdash;the train going at the rate of
forty miles an hour&mdash;an iron rail projecting from a car on a
side-track cut into the carriage and took the head of the lady
clear off, and rolled it into the husband&rsquo;s lap.&nbsp; He
subsequently sued the company for damages, and created great
surprise in court by giving his age at thirty-six years, although
his hair was snow white.&nbsp; It had been turned from jet black
by the horror of that event.</p>
<h2>ENGINEERING LOAN, OR STAKING OUT A RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Beau&rdquo; Caldwell was a sporting genius of an
extremely versatile character.&nbsp; Like all his fraternity, he
was possessed <!-- page 173--><a name="page173"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 173</span>of a pliancy of adaptation to
circumstances that enabled him to succumb with true philosophy to
misfortunes, and also to grace the more exalted sphere of
prosperity with that natural ease attributed to gentlemen with
bloated bank accounts.</p>
<p>Fertile in ingenuity and resources, Beau was rarely at his
wit&rsquo;s end for that nest egg of the gambler, a stake.&nbsp;
His providence, when in luck, was such as to keep him continually
on the <i>qui vive</i> for a nucleus to build upon.</p>
<p>Beau, having exhausted the pockets and liberality of his
contemporaries in Charleston, S.C., was constrained to
&ldquo;pitch his tent&rdquo; in fresh pastures.&nbsp; He
therefore selected Abbeville, whither he was immediately
expedited by the agency of a &ldquo;free pass.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Snugly ensconced in his hotel, Beau ruminated over the means
to raise the &ldquo;plate.&rdquo;&nbsp; The bar-keeper was
assailed, but he was discovered to have scruples (anomalous
barkeeper!)&nbsp; The landlord was a &ldquo;grum wretch,&rdquo;
with no soul for speculation.&nbsp; The cornered
&ldquo;sport&rdquo; was finally reduced to the alternative of
&ldquo;confidence of operation.&rdquo;&nbsp; Having arranged his
scheme, he rented him a precious negro boy, and borrowed an old
theodolite.&nbsp; Thus equipped, Beau betook himself to the abode
of a neighbouring planter, notorious for his wealth, obstinacy,
and ignorance.&nbsp; Operations were commenced by sending the
nigger into the planter&rsquo;s barn-yard with a flagpole.&nbsp;
Beau got himself up into a charming tableau, directly in front of
the house.&nbsp; He now roared at the top of his voice,
&ldquo;72,000,000&mdash;51&mdash;8&mdash;11.&rdquo;</p>
<p>After which he went to driving small stakes, in a very
promiscuous manner, about the premises.</p>
<p>The planter hearing the shouting, and curious to ascertain the
cause, put his head out of the window.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Beau, again assuming his civil
engineering <i>pose</i>, &ldquo;go to the right a little
further&mdash;there, that&rsquo;ll do.&nbsp;
47,000&mdash;92&mdash;5.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What the d---l are you doing in my barn-yard?&rdquo;
roared the planter.</p>
<p>Beau would not consent to answer this interrogation, but
pursuing his business, hallooed out to his
&ldquo;nigger&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now go to the house, place your pole against the
kitchen door, higher&mdash;stop at that.&nbsp;
86&mdash;45&mdash;6.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 174--><a name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
174</span>&ldquo;I say there,&rdquo; again vociferated the
planter, &ldquo;get out of my yard.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid we will have to go right through the
house,&rdquo; soliloquized Beau.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m d--d if you do,&rdquo; exclaimed the
planter.</p>
<p>Beau now looked up for the first time, accosting the planter
with a courteous&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good day, sir.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good d---l, sir; you are committing a
trespass.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;My dear friend,&rdquo; replied Beau, &ldquo;public
duty, imperative&mdash;no trespass&mdash;surveying
railroad&mdash;State job&mdash;your house in the way.&nbsp; Must
take off one corner, sir,&mdash;the kitchen part&mdash;least
value&mdash;leave the parlour&mdash;delightful room to see the
cars rush by twelve times a day&mdash;make you accessible to
market.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Beau, turning to the nigger, cried out&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Put the pole against the kitchen door again&mdash;so,
85.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I say, stranger,&rdquo; interrupted the planter,
&ldquo;I guess you ain&rsquo;t dined.&nbsp; As dinner&rsquo;s up,
suppose you come in, and we&rsquo;ll talk the matter
over.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Beau, delighted with the proposition, immediately acceded, not
having tasted cooked provisions that day.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said the planter, while Beau was paying
marked attention to a young turkey, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s mighty
inconvenient to have one&rsquo;s homestead smashed up, without so
much as asking the liberty.&nbsp; And more than that, if
there&rsquo;s law to be had, it shan&rsquo;t be did
either.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Pooh! nonsense, my dear friend,&rdquo; replied Beau,
&ldquo;it&rsquo;s the law that says the railroad must be laid
through kitchens.&nbsp; Why, we have gone through seventeen
kitchens and eight parlours in the last eight miles&mdash;people
don&rsquo;t like it, but then it&rsquo;s law, and there&rsquo;s
no alternative, except the party persuades the surveyor to move a
little to the left, and as curves costs money most folks let it
go through the kitchen.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Cost something, eh?&rdquo; said the planter, eagerly
catching at the bait thrown out for him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Would not
mind a trifle.&nbsp; You see I don&rsquo;t oppose the road, but
if you&rsquo;ll turn to the left and it won&rsquo;t be much
expense, why I&rsquo;ll stand it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Beau, counting his fingers,
&ldquo;forty and forty is eighty, and one hundred.&nbsp; Yes, two
hundred <!-- page 175--><a name="page175"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 175</span>dollars will do it.&rdquo;&nbsp;
Unrolling a large map, intersected with lines running in every
direction, he continued&mdash;&ldquo;There is your house, and
here&rsquo;s the road.&nbsp; Air line.&nbsp; You see to move to
the left we must excavate this hill.&nbsp; As we are desirous of
retaining the goodwill of parties residing on the route,
I&rsquo;ll agree on the part of the company to secure the
alteration, and prevent your house from being
molested.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The planter revolved the matter in his mind for a moment and
exclaimed:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll guarantee the alteration?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Give a written document.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Then it&rsquo;s a bargain.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The planter without more delay gave Beau an order on his city
factor for the stipulated sum, and received in exchange a written
document, guaranteeing the freedom of the kitchen from any
encroachment by the C. L. R. R. Co.</p>
<p>Before leaving, Beau took the planter on one side and
requested him not to disclose their bargain until after the
railroad was built.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You see, it mightn&rsquo;t exactly suit the views of
some people&mdash;partiality, you know.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The last remark, accompanied by a suggestive wink, was
returned by the planter in a similar demonstration of
<i>owlishness</i>.</p>
<p>Beau resumed his theodolite, drove a few stakes on the hill
opposite, and proceeded onward in the fulfilment of his
duties.&nbsp; As his light figure receded into obscurity and the
distance, the planter caught a sound vastly like
40&mdash;40&mdash;120&mdash;200.&mdash;And that was the last he
ever heard of the railroad.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Appleton&rsquo;s American Railway
Anecdote Book</i>.</p>
<h2>MR. FRANK BUCKLAND&rsquo;S FIRST RAILWAY JOURNEY.</h2>
<p>Mr. Spencer Walpole remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;Of Mr.
Buckland&rsquo;s Christ Church days many good stories are
told.&nbsp; Almost every one has heard of the bear which he kept
at his rooms, of its misdemeanours, and its rustication.&nbsp;
Less familiar, perhaps, is the story of his first journey by the
Great Western.&nbsp; The dons, alarmed at the possible
consequences of a railway to London, would not allow Brunel to
bring the line nearer than to Didcot.&nbsp; Dean Buckland in vain
<!-- page 176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
176</span>protested against the folly of this decision, and the
line was kept out of harm&rsquo;s way at Didcot.&nbsp; But, the
very day on which it was opened, Mr. Frank Buckland, with one or
two other undergraduates, drove over to Didcot, travelled up to
London, and returned in time to fulfil all the regulations of the
university.&nbsp; The Dean, who was probably not altogether
displeased at the joke, told the story to his friends who had
prided themselves in keeping the line from Oxford.&nbsp;
&lsquo;Here,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;you have deprived us of the
advantage of a railway, and my son has been up to
London.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SCENE BEFORE A SUB-COMMITTEE ON STANDING ORDERS.<br />
<span class="smcap">petitioning against a railway bill</span>,
1846.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Well, Snooks,&rdquo; began the Agent for the Promoters,
in cross-examination, &ldquo;you signed the petition against the
Bill&mdash;aye?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yees, zur.&nbsp; I zined summit, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;But that petition&mdash;did you sign that
petition?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I do&rsquo;ant nar, zur; I zined zummit,
zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you know the contents of the
petition?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The what, zur?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The contents; what&rsquo;s in it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oa!&nbsp; Noa, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what&rsquo;s in the
petition!&mdash;Why, ain&rsquo;t you the petitioner
himself?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Noa, zur, I doan&rsquo;t nar that I be, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>[&ldquo;Snooks!&nbsp; Snooks!&nbsp; Snooks!&rdquo; issued a
voice from a stout and benevolent-looking elderly gentleman from
behind, &ldquo;how can you say so, Snooks?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s your
petition.&rdquo;&nbsp; The prompting, however, seemed to produce
but little impression upon him for whom it was intended, whatever
effect it may have had upon the minds of those whose ears it
reached, but for whose service it was not intended].</p>
<p>&ldquo;Really, Mr. Chairman,&rdquo; observed the Agent for the
Bill, who appeared to have no idea of <i>Burking</i> the inquiry,
&ldquo;this is growing interesting.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The interest is all on your side,&rdquo; remarked the
Agent for the petition (against the Bill).</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now, Snooks,&rdquo; continued the Agent for the Bill,
&ldquo;apply your mind to the questions I shall put to you, and
let me <!-- page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 177</span>caution you to reply to them truly
and honestly.&nbsp; Now, tell me&mdash;who got you to sign this
petition?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I object to the question,&rdquo; interposed the Agent
for the petition.&nbsp; &ldquo;The matter altogether is
descending into mean, trivial, and unnecessary details, which I
am surprised my friend opposite should attempt to trouble the
Committee with.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I can readily understand, sir,&rdquo; replied the
other, &ldquo;why my friend is so anxious to get rid of this
inquiry&mdash;simple and short as it will be; but I trust, sir,
that you will consider it of sufficient importance to allow it to
proceed.&nbsp; I purpose to put only a few questions more on this
extraordinary petition against the Bill (the bare meaning of the
name of which the petitioner does not seem to understand) for the
purpose of eliciting some further information respecting
it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The Committee being thus appealed to by both parties, inclined
their heads for a few moments in order to facilitate a
communication in whispers, and then decided that the inquiry
might proceed.&nbsp; It was evident that the matter had excited
an interest in the minds and breasts of the honourable members of
the Committee; created as much perhaps by the extreme mean and
poverty-stricken appearance of the witness&mdash;a miserable,
dirty, and decrepit old man&mdash;as by the disclosures he had
already made.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, Snooks, I was about to ask you (when my friend
interrupted me) who got you to sign the petition, or that zummit
as you call it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Some genelmen, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Who were they&mdash;do you know their names?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Noa, zur, co&rsquo;ant say I do nar &rsquo;em a&rsquo;,
zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;But do you know any of them, was that gentleman behind
you one?&rdquo;</p>
<p>[The gentleman referred to was the fine benevolent-looking
individual who had previously kindly endeavoured to assist the
witness in his answers, and who stood the present scrutiny with
marked composure and complaisance].</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yees, zur, he war one on &rsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Do you know his name?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Noa, zur, I doant; but he be one of the railway
genelmen.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
178</span>&ldquo;What did he say to you, when he requested you to
sign the petition?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;He said I ware to zine (pointing to the petition) that
zummit.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;When and where, pray, did you sign it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;A lot o&rsquo; railway genelmen kum to me on Sunday
night last; and they wo&rsquo; make me do it, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;On Sunday night last, aye!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What, on Sunday night!&rdquo; exclaimed one honourable
member on the extreme right of the Chairman, with horror depicted
on his countenance; &ldquo;are you sure, witness, that it was
done in the evening of a Sabbath?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The honourable member asks you, whether you are certain
that you were called upon by the railway gentlemen to sign the
petition on a Sunday evening?&nbsp; I think you told me last
Sunday evening.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oa, yees, zur; they kum just as we war a garing to
chapel.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Disgraceful, and wrong in the extreme!&rdquo;
ejaculated the honourable member.</p>
<p>&ldquo;And did not that gentleman&rdquo; (continued the Agent
for the Bill), &ldquo;nor any of the railway gentlemen, as you
call them, when they requested you to sign, explain the nature
and contents of the petition?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Noa, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Then you don&rsquo;t know at this moment what
it&rsquo;s for?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Noa, zur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Of course, therefore, it&rsquo;s not your petition as
set forth?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I doant nar, zur.&nbsp; I zined zummit.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now, answer me, do you object to this line of
railway?&nbsp; Have you any dislike to it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;O, noa, zur.&nbsp; I shud loak to zee it
kum.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Exactly, you should like to see it made.&nbsp; So you
have been led to petition against it, though you are favourable
to it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>The petitioner against the Bill did not appear to comprehend
the precise drift of the remark, and his only reply to the wordy
fix into which the learned agent had drawn him was made in the
dumb-show of scratching with his one disengaged hand (the other
being employed in holding his hat) his uncombed head&mdash;an
operation that created much <!-- page 179--><a
name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 179</span>laughter,
which was not damped by the Agent&rsquo;s putting, with a serious
face, a concluding question or remark to him to the effect that
he presumed he (the witness) had not paid, or engaged to pay, so
many guineas a day to his friend on the other side for the
prosecution of the opposition against the Bill&mdash;had he; yes,
or no?&nbsp; The witness&rsquo;s appearance was the only and best
answer.</p>
<p>The petition, of course, upon this <i>expos&eacute;</i>, was
withdrawn.</p>
<p>This, the substance of what actually took place before one of
the Sub-Committees on Standing orders will give some idea of the
nature of many of the petitions against Railway Bills, especially
on technical points.&nbsp; It will serve to show in some measure
what heartless mockeries these petitions mostly are; the moral
evils they give birth to&mdash;and that, even while complaining
of errors, they are themselves made up of falsehood.</p>
<h2>AN IDEA ON RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>A happy comment on the annihilation of time and space by
locomotive agency, is as follows:&mdash;A little child who rode
fifty miles in a railway train, and then took a coach to her
uncle&rsquo;s house, some five miles further, was asked on her
arrival if she came by the cars.&nbsp; &ldquo;We came a little
way in the cars, and all the rest of the way in a
carriage.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>BURNING THE ROAD CLEAR.</h2>
<p>It is related of Colonel Thomas A. Scott, that on one
occasion, when making one of his swift trips over the American
lines under his control, his train was stopped by the wreck of a
goods train.&nbsp; There was a dozen heavily loaded covered
trucks piled up on the road, and it would take a long time to get
help from the nearest accessible point, and probably hours more
to get the track cleared by mere force of labour.&nbsp; He
surveyed the difficulty, made a rough calculation of the cost of
a total destruction of the freight, and promptly made up his mind
to burn the road clear.&nbsp; By the time the relief train came
the flames had done their work and nothing remained but to patch
up a few injuries done to the track so as to enable him to pursue
his way.</p>
<h2><!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 180</span>HARSH TREATMENT OF A MAN OF
COLOUR.</h2>
<p>My treatment in the use of public conveyances about these
times was extremely rough, especially on &ldquo;The Eastern
Railroad,&rdquo; from Boston to Portland.&nbsp; On the road, as
on many others, there was a mean, dirty, and uncomfortable car
set apart for coloured travellers, called the &ldquo;Jim
Crow&rdquo; car.&nbsp; Regarding this as the fruit of
slaveholding prejudice, and being determined to fight the spirit
of slavery wherever I might find it, I resolved to avoid this
car, though it sometimes required some courage to do so.&nbsp;
The coloured people generally accepted the situation, and
complained of me as making matters worse rather than better, by
refusing to submit to this proscription.&nbsp; I, however,
persisted, and sometimes was soundly beaten by the conductor and
brakeman.&nbsp; On one occasion, six of these &ldquo;fellows of
the baser sort,&rdquo; under the direction of the conductor, set
out to eject me from my seat.&nbsp; As usual, I had purchased a
first-class ticket, and paid the required sum for it, and on the
requirement of the conductor to leave, refused to do so, when he
called on these men &ldquo;to snake me out.&rdquo;&nbsp; They
attempted to obey with an air which plainly told me they relished
the job.&nbsp; They, however, found me <i>much attached</i> to my
seat, and in removing me tore away two or three of the
surrounding ones, on which I held with a firm grasp, and did the
car no service in some respects.&nbsp; I was strong and muscular,
and the seats were not then so firmly attached or of as solid
make as now.&nbsp; The result was that Stephen A. Chase,
superintendent of the road, ordered all passenger trains to pass
through Lynn, where I then lived, without stopping.&nbsp; This
was a great inconvenience to the people, large numbers of whom
did business in Boston, and at other points of the road.&nbsp;
Led on, however, by James N. Buffum, Jonathon Buffum, Christopher
Robinson, William Bassett, and others, the people of Lynn stood
bravely by me, and denounced the railway management in emphatic
terms.&nbsp; Mr. Chase made reply that a railroad corporation was
neither a religious nor a reformatory body; and that the road was
run for the accommodation of the public; and that it required the
exclusion of the coloured people from its cars.&nbsp; With an air
of triumph he told us that we ought not to expect a railroad <!--
page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
181</span>company to be better than the Evangelical Church, and
that until the churches abolished the &ldquo;negro pew,&rdquo; we
ought not to expect the railroad company to abolish the negro
car.&nbsp; This argument was certainly good enough as against the
Church, but good for nothing as against the demands of justice
and equity.&nbsp; My old and dear friend, J. N. Buffum, made a
point against the company that they &ldquo;often allowed dogs and
monkeys to ride in first-class cars, and yet excluded a man like
Frederick Douglass!&rdquo;&nbsp; In a very few years this
barbarous practice was put away, and I think there have been no
instances of such exclusion during the past thirty years; and
coloured people now, everywhere in New England, ride upon equal
terms with other passengers.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Life and Times of
Frederick Douglass</i>.</p>
<h2>QUITE TOO CLEVER</h2>
<p>The elder Dumas was at the railway station, just starting to
join his yacht at Marseilles.&nbsp; Several friends had
accompanied him, to say good-bye.&nbsp; Suddenly he was informed
that he had a hundred and fifty kilogrammes excess of
luggage.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ho, ho!&rdquo; cried Dumas.&nbsp;
&ldquo;How many kilogrammes are allowed?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Thirty for each person,&rdquo; was the reply.&nbsp;
Silently he made a mental calculation, and then in a tone of
triumph bade his secretary take places for five.&nbsp; &ldquo;In
that way,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;we shall have no
excess.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A DIFFICULTY SOLVED.</h2>
<p>Among the improvements that have been carried out at Windsor
during the autumn, has been an entire alteration in the draining
of the Home Park about Frogmore.&nbsp; New drains have been laid,
and the waste earth has been used to level the ground.&nbsp; This
portion of the Royal domain was almost wild at the beginning of
the present reign.&nbsp; It consisted of fields, with low hedges
and deep ditches, and was intersected by a road, on which stood
several cottages and a public-house.&nbsp; It was quite an
eyesore, and Prince Albert was at his wit&rsquo;s end to know how
to convert it into a park and exclude the public, as before this
could be done, it was <!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 182</span>necessary to make a new road in
place of the one it was desired to abolish, and altogether a
large outlay was inevitable; and even in those days, it was out
of the question to apply to Parliament for the amount required,
which, I believe, was about &pound;80,000.</p>
<p>The difficulty, however, was solved in rather a strange
way.&nbsp; In the early days of railroads they were looked upon
as nuisances, and the authorities at Windsor Castle were firmly
resolved that no line should approach the Royal borough, in which
resolution they were warmly supported by the equally stupid and
short-sighted managers of Eton College.&nbsp; Although the
inhabitants sighed for a railway, none was brought nearer than
Slough.&nbsp; At this moment, when the park question was being
agitated, the South Western Directors brought forward a
proposition that they should make a line into Windsor, running
along one side of the Home Park, and right under the
Castle.&nbsp; This audacious idea was regarded with indignation
at the Castle, until a hint was received that possibly, if Royal
interest were forthcoming to support the plan, the Company might
be able to facilitate the proposed alterations; and it then came
out, strangely enough, they had fixed the precise sum needed
(&pound;80,000) as compensation for the disturbance of the Royal
property.&nbsp; No more was heard of the objections to the
scheme, which had been so vehemently denounced a few days before,
but, no sooner did it transpire that the South-Western plan was
not opposed by the Castle interest than down came the
Great-Western authorities in a fever of indignation, for it
appeared they had received an explicit promise that, if Windsor
was ever desecrated by a railway, they should have the
preference.&nbsp; So resolute was their attitude, that so far as
I remember, the sitting of Parliament was actually protracted in
order that their Bill might be passed; not that they got it
without paying, for they gave &pound;20,000 for an old stable and
yard which were required for their station, and which happened to
stand on Crown property.&nbsp; Things were sometimes managed
strangely enough in those days.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Truth</i>, Dec. 29,
1881.</p>
<h2><!-- page 183--><a name="page183"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 183</span>AN EXACTING LADY.</h2>
<p>A lady of fashion with a pugdog and a husband entered the
train at Paddington the other day.&nbsp; There were in the
carriage but two persons, a well-known Professor and his wife;
yet the lady of fashion coveted, not indeed his chair, but his
seat.&nbsp; &ldquo;I wish to sit by the window, sir,&rdquo; she
said, imperiously, and he had to move accordingly.&nbsp;
&ldquo;No, sir, that won&rsquo;t do,&rdquo; she said, as he
meekly took the next place.&nbsp; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t have a
stranger sitting close to me.&nbsp; My husband must sit where you
are.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Gentleman&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>AMERICAN PATIENCE AND IMPERTURBABILITY.</h2>
<p>About an hour after midnight, on our journey from Boston to
Albany, we came to a sudden pause where no station was visible;
and immediately, very much to my surprise, the engine-driver,
conductor, and several passengers were seen sallying forth with
lanterns, and hastening down the embankment on our right.&nbsp;
&ldquo;What are they going to do now?&rdquo; said I to a
gentleman, who, like myself, kept his seat.&nbsp; &ldquo;Only to
take a look at some cars that were smashed this morning,&rdquo;
was the reply.&nbsp; On opening the window to observe the state
of affairs, as well as the darkness would allow, there, to be
sure, at the bottom and along the side of the high bank, lay an
unhappy train, just as it had been upset.&nbsp; The locomotive on
its side was partly buried in the earth; and the cars which had
followed it in its descent lay in a confused heap behind.&nbsp;
On the top of the bank, near to us, the last car of all stood
obliquely on end, with its hind wheels in the air in a somewhat
grotesque and threatening attitude.&nbsp; All was now still and
silent.&nbsp; The killed and wounded, if there were any, had been
removed.&nbsp; No living thing was visible but the errant
engineer and others from our train clambering with lanterns in
their hands over a prostrate wreck, and with heedless levity
passing critical remarks on the catastrophe.&nbsp; Curiosity
being satisfied all resumed their places, and the train moved on
without a murmur of complaint as to the unnecessary, and,
considering the hour, very undesirable delay.&nbsp; I allude to
the circumstance, as one of a variety of facts that fell <!--
page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
184</span>within my observation, illustrative of the singular
degree of patience and imperturbability with which railway
travellers in America submit uncomplainingly to all sorts of
detentions on their journey.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Things as they are in
America</i>, by W. Chambers, 1853.</p>
<h2>A WIDE-AWAKE CONDUCTOR.</h2>
<p>Dana Krum, one of the conductors on the Erie Railway, was
approached before train time by an unknown man, who spoke to him
as if he had known him for years.&nbsp; &ldquo;I say,
Dana,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I have forgotten my pass, and I want
to go to Susquehanna; I am a fireman on the road, you
know.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the conductor told him he ought to have a
pass with him.&nbsp; It was the safest way.&nbsp; Pretty soon,
Dana came along to collect tickets.&nbsp; Seeing his man, he
spoke when he reached him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Say, my friend, have you
got the time with you?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he,
as he pulled out a watch, &ldquo;it is twenty minutes past
nine.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, it is, is it?&nbsp; Now, if you
don&rsquo;t show me your pass or fare, I will stop the
train.&nbsp; There is no railway man that I ever saw who would
say &lsquo;Twenty minutes past nine.&rsquo;&nbsp; He would say,
&lsquo;Nine-twenty.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; He settled.</p>
<h2>A KID-GLOVED SAMSON.</h2>
<p>A correspondent of the <i>Chicago Journal</i> relates the
following feat of strength, to which he was witness:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;On Sunday, about nine o&rsquo;clock A.M., as the train
westward was within three or four miles of Chicago, on the Fort
Wayne road, a horse was discovered on the stilt-work between the
rails.&nbsp; The train was stopped, and workmen were sent to
clear the track.&nbsp; It was then discovered that the body of
the horse was resting on the sleepers.&nbsp; His legs having
passed through the open spaces, were too short to reach the
ground.&nbsp; Boards and rails were brought, and the open space
in front of the horse filled up, making a plank road for him in
case he should be got up, and by means of ropes one of his fore
feet was raised, and there matters came to a halt.&nbsp; It
seemed that no strength or stratagem could avail to release the
animal.&nbsp; Levers of boards were splintered, and the men
tugged at the ropes in vain, when a passenger, <!-- page 185--><a
name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>who was
looking quietly on, stepped forward, leisurely slipped off a pair
of tinted kids, seized the horse by the tail, and with tremendous
force hurled him forward on the plank road.&nbsp; No one
assisted, and, indeed, the whole thing was done so quickly that
assistance was impossible.&nbsp; The horse walked away looking
foolish, and casting suspicious side-glances towards his caudal
extremity.&nbsp; The lookers-on laughed and shouted, while the
stranger resumed his kids, muttering something about the
inconvenience of railway delays, lit a cigar, and walked slowly
into the smoking car.&nbsp; He was finely formed, of muscular
appearance, was very fashionably dressed, wore a moustache and
whiskers of an auburn or reddish colour, and to all questions as
to who he was, only answered that he was a Pennsylvanian
travelling westward for his health.&nbsp; The horse would
certainly weigh at least twelve hundred.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A RAILWAY TRAIN TURNED INTO A MAN-TRAP.</h2>
<p>A branch of the Bombay presidency runs through a wild region,
the inhabitants of which are unsophisticated savages, addicted to
thievery.&nbsp; The first day the line was opened a number of
these Arcadians conspired to intercept the train, and have a
glorious loot.&nbsp; To accomplish their object they placed some
trunks of trees across the rails; but the engine driver, keeping
a very sharp look out, as it happened to be his first trip on the
line in question, descried the trunks while yet they were at a
considerable distance from him.&nbsp; The breaks were then put
on, and when the locomotive had approached within a couple of
feet of the trunks it was brought to a standstill.&nbsp; Then,
instantaneously, like Roderick Dhu&rsquo;s clansmen starting from
the heather, natives, previously invisible, swarmed up on all
sides, and, crowding into the carriages, began to pillage and
plunder everything they could lay their hands upon.&nbsp; While
they were thus engaged, the guard gave the signal to the driver,
who at once reversed his engine and put it to the top of its
speed.&nbsp; The reader may judge of the consternation of the
robbers when they found themselves whirled backwards at a pace
that rendered escape impossible.&nbsp; Some poor fellows that
attempted it were killed on the spot.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Central India Times</i>,
June 22, 1867.</p>
<h2><!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 186</span>THE RULING OCCUPATION STRONG ON
SUNDAY.</h2>
<p>In an Episcopal church in the north, not one hundred miles
from Keith, a porter employed during the week at the railway
station, does duty on Sunday by blowing the bellows of the
organ.&nbsp; The other Sunday, wearied by the long hours of
railway attendance, combined, it may be, with the soporific
effects of a dull sermon, he fell sound asleep during the
service, and so remained when the pealing of the organ was
required.&nbsp; He was suddenly and rather rudely awakened by
another official when apparently dreaming of an approaching
train, as he started to his feet and roared out, with all the
force and shrillness of stentorian lungs and habit, &ldquo;Change
here for Elgin, Lossiemouth, and Burghead.&rdquo;&nbsp; The
effect upon the congregation, sitting in expectation of a concord
of sweet sounds, may be imagined&mdash;it is unnecessary to
describe it.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Dumfries Courier</i>,
1866.</p>
<h2>THE GOOD THINGS OF RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.</h2>
<p>We have always thought that, except to lawyers and railway
carriage and locomotive builders, railway accidents were great
misfortunes, but it is evident we were wrong and we hasten to
acknowledge our error.&nbsp; Speaking on Thursday with a
respectable broker about the heavy damages (&pound;2,000) given
the day before on account of the Tottenham accident against the
Eastern Counties Company in the Court of Exchequer, he observed,
&ldquo;It is rather good when these things happen as it moves the
stock.&nbsp; I have had an order for some days to buy Eastern
Counties at 56 and could not do it, but this verdict has sent
them down one per cent., and enabled me now to buy
it.&rdquo;&nbsp; With all our railway experience we never dreamt
of such a benefit as this accruing from railway accidents, but it
is evidently among the possibilities.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Herepath&rsquo;s Railway
Journal</i>, June 7th, 1860.</p>
<h2>BENEFICIAL EFFECT OF A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>A gentleman who was in a railway collision in 1869, wrote to
the <i>Times</i> in November of that year.&nbsp; After stating
that he had been threatened with a violent attack of rheumatic
<!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
187</span>fever; in fact, he observed, &ldquo;my condition so
alarmed me, and my dread of a sojourn in a Manchester hotel bed
for two or three months was so great, that I resolved to make a
bold sortie and, well wrapped up, start for London by the 3.30
p.m. Midland fast train.&nbsp; From the time of leaving that
station to the time of the collision, my heart was going at
express speed; my weak body was in a profuse perspiration;
flashes of pain announced that the muscular fibres were under the
tyrannical control of rheumatism, and I was almost beside myself
with toothache.&nbsp; From the moment of the collision to the
present hour no ache, pain, sweat, or tremor has troubled me in
the slightest degree, and instead of being, as I expected, and
indeed intended, in bed drinking <i>tinct. aurantii</i>, or
absorbing through my pores oil of horse-chestnut, I am
conscientiously bound to be at my office bodily sound.&nbsp;
Don&rsquo;t print my name and address, or the Midland Company may
come down upon me for compensation.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN EARLY MORNING RIDE TO THE RAILWAY STATION.</h2>
<p>In the course of his peregrinations, the railway traveller may
find himself in some out-of-the-way place, where no regular
vehicle can be obtained to convey him to the station, and this
<i>contretemps</i> is aggravated when the time of departure
happens to be early in the morning.&nbsp; Captain B&mdash;, a man
of restless energy and adventurous spirit, emerged early one
morning from a hovel in a distant village, where from stress of
weather he had been compelled to pass the night.&nbsp; It was
just dawn of day, and within an hour of the train he wished to go
by would start from the station, about six miles distant.&nbsp;
He had with him a portmanteau, which it would be impossible for
him to carry within the prescribed time, but which he could not
very well leave behind.&nbsp; Pondering on what he should do, his
eye lighted on a likely looking horse grazing in a field hard by,
while in the next field there was a line extended between two
posts, for the purpose of drying clothes upon.&nbsp; The sight of
these objects soon suggested the plan for him to adopt.&nbsp; In
an instant he detached the line, and then taking a piece of bread
from his pocket, coaxed the animal to approach him.&nbsp; Captain
<!-- page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
188</span>B&mdash; was an adept in the management of horses, and
as a rough rider, perhaps, had no equal.&nbsp; In a few seconds
he had, by the aid of a portion of the line, arranged his
portmanteau pannier-wise across the horse&rsquo;s back, and
forming a bridle with the remaining portion of the line, he led
his steed into the lane, and sprang upon his back.&nbsp; The
horse rather relished the trip than otherwise, and what with the
unaccustomed burden, and the consciousness that he was being
steered by a knowing hand, he sped onwards at a terrific
pace.&nbsp; While in mid career, one of the mounted police espied
the captain coming along the road at a distance; recognizing the
horse, but not knowing the rider, and noticing also the
portmanteau, and the uncouth equipment, this rural guardian of
the peace came to the conclusion that this was a case of robbery
and horse stealing; and as the captain neared him, he endeavoured
to stop him, and stretched forth his hand to seize the improvised
bridle, but the gallant equestrian laughed to scorn the impotent
attempt, and shook him off, and shot by him.&nbsp; Thus foiled,
the policeman had nothing to do than to give chase; so turning
his horse&rsquo;s head he followed in full cry.&nbsp; The clatter
and shouts of pursuer and pursued brought forth the inhabitants
of the cottages as they passed, and many of these joined in the
chase.&nbsp; Never since Turpin&rsquo;s ride to York, or Johnny
Gilpin&rsquo;s ride to Edmonton, had there been such a commotion
caused by an equestrian performance.&nbsp; To make a long story
short, the captain reached the station in ample time; an
explanation ensued; a handsome apology was tendered to the
patrol, and a present equally handsome was forwarded, together
with the abstracted property, to the joint owner of the horse and
the clothes-line.</p>
<h2>CHEAP FARES.</h2>
<p>In the year 1868, Mr. Raphael Brandon brought out a book
called <i>Railways and the Public</i>.&nbsp; In it he proposes
that the railways should be purchased and worked by the
government; and that passengers, like letters, should travel any
distance at a fixed charge.&nbsp; He calculates that a threepenny
stamp for third-class, a sixpenny stamp for second-class, and a
shilling stamp for first-class, should take a passenger any
distance whether long or short.&nbsp; With the <!-- page 189--><a
name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 189</span>adoption of
the scheme, he believes, such an impetus would be given to
passenger traffic that the returns would amount to more than
double what they are at present.&nbsp; There may be flaws in Mr.
Brandon&rsquo;s theory, yet it may be within the bounds of
possibility that some great innovator may rise up and do for the
travelling public by way of organization what Sir Rowland Hill
has done for the postage of the country by the penny stamp.</p>
<h2>WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?</h2>
<p>The above question was asked by a man of his friend who had
been injured in a railway accident, &ldquo;I am first going in
for repairs, and then for <i>damages</i>,&rdquo; was the
answer.</p>
<h2>REPROOF FOR SWEARING.</h2>
<p>The manager of one of the great Indian railways, in addressing
a European subordinate given to indulge in needless strong
language, wrote as follows:&mdash;&ldquo;Dear sir, it is with
extreme regret that I have to bring to your notice that I
observed very unprofessional conduct on your part this morning
when making a trial trip.&nbsp; I allude to the abusive language
you used to the drivers and others.&nbsp; This I consider an
unwarrantable assumption of my duties and functions, and, I may
say, rights and privileges.&nbsp; Should you wish to abuse any of
our employ&eacute;s, I think it will be best in future to do so
in regular form, and I beg to point out what I consider this to
be.&nbsp; You will please to submit to me, in writing, the form
of oath you wish to use, when, if it meets my approval, I shall
at once sanction it; but if not, I shall refer the same to the
directors; and, in the course of a few weeks, their decision will
be known.&nbsp; Perhaps, to save time, it might be as well for
you to submit a list of the expletives generally in use by you,
and I can then at once refer those to which I object to the
directors for their decision.&nbsp; But, pending that, you will
please to understand that all cursing and swearing at drivers and
others engaged on the traffic arrangements in which you may wish
to indulge must be done in writing, and through me.&nbsp; By
adopting this course you will perceive how much responsibility
you will save yourself, and how very much the business of the
company will be expedited, and its interests promoted.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 190--><a name="page190"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 190</span>THE BULLY RIGHTLY SERVED.</h2>
<p>In the <i>Railway Traveller&rsquo;s Handy Book</i>, there is
an account of an occurrence which took place on the Eastern
Counties line:&mdash;&ldquo;A big hulking fellow, with bully
written on his face, took his seat in a second-class carriage,
and forthwith commenced insulting everybody by his words and
gestures.&nbsp; He was asked to desist, but only responded with
language more abusive.&nbsp; The guard was then appealed to, who
told him to mind what he was about, shut the door, and cried
&lsquo;all right.&rsquo;&nbsp; Thus encouraged the miscreant
continued his disgraceful conduct, and became every moment more
outrageous.&nbsp; In one part of the carriage were four farmers
sitting who all came from the same neighbourhood, and to whom
every part along the line was well known.&nbsp; One of these
wrote on a slip of paper these words, &lsquo;Let us souse him in
Chuckley Slough.&rsquo;&nbsp; This paper was handed from one to
the other, and each nodded assent.&nbsp; Now, Chuckley Slough was
a pond near one of the railway stations, not very deep, but the
waters of which were black, muddy, and somewhat repellent to the
olfactory nerves.&nbsp; The station was neared and arrived at; in
the meantime the bully&rsquo;s conduct became worse and
worse.&nbsp; As they emerged from the station, one of the
farmers, aforesaid, said to the fellow, &lsquo;Now, will you he
quiet?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;No, I won&rsquo;t,&rsquo; was the
answer.&nbsp; &lsquo;You won&rsquo;t, won&rsquo;t you?&rsquo;
asked a second farmer.&nbsp; &lsquo;You&rsquo;re determined you
won&rsquo;t?&rsquo; inquired a third.&nbsp; &lsquo;You&rsquo;re
certain you won&rsquo;t?&rsquo; asked the fourth.&nbsp; To all of
which queries the response was in negatives, with certain
inelegant expletives added thereto.&nbsp; &lsquo;Then,&rsquo;
said the four farmers speaking as one man, and rising in a body,
&lsquo;out you go.&rsquo;&nbsp; So saying, they seized the giant
form of the wretch, who struggled hard to escape but to no
purpose; they forced him to the window, and while the train was
still travelling at a slow pace, and Chuckley Slough appeared to
view, they without more ado thrust the huge carcass through the
window, and propelling it forward with some force, landed it
exactly in the centre of the black, filthy slough.&nbsp; The
mingled cries and oaths of the man were something fearful to
hear; his attempts at extrication and incessant slipping still
deeper in the mire, something ludicrous to witness; all the
passengers watched him with feelings of gratified revenge, and
<!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
191</span>the last that was seen of him was a huge black mass,
having no traces of humanity about it, crawling up the bank in a
state of utter prostration.&nbsp; In this instance the remedy was
rather a violent one; but less active measures had been found to
fail, and there can be little doubt that this man took care ever
afterwards not to run the risk of a similar punishment by
indulging in conduct of a like nature.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>LIABILITY OF COMPANIES FOR DELAY OF TRAINS.</h2>
<p>There have been cases where claims have been made and
recovered in courts of law for loss arising from delay in the
arrival of trains, but the law does not render the
company&rsquo;s liability unlimited.&nbsp; A remarkable case
occurred not long since.&nbsp; A Mr. Le Blanche sued the London
and North-Western Company for the cost of a special train to
Scarborough, which he had ordered in consequence of his being
brought from Liverpool to Leeds, too late for the ordinary train
from Leeds to Scarborough.&nbsp; A judgment in the county court
was given in favour of the applicant.</p>
<p>The railway company appealed to the superior court, and the
points raised were argued by able counsel, when the decision of
the county court judge was confirmed.&nbsp; The company was
determined to put the case to the utmost possible test, and on
appealing to the Supreme Court of Judicature the judgment was
reversed, the decision being to the effect that, whilst there was
some evidence of wilful delay, the measure of damage was
wrong.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Our Railways</i>, by
Joseph Parsloe.</p>
<h2>THE DYING ENGINE DRIVER.</h2>
<p>Doubts have been expressed whether our iron ships will ever be
regarded in the same affectionate way as &ldquo;liners&rdquo;
used to be regarded by our &ldquo;old salts.&rdquo;&nbsp; It has
been supposed that the latest creations of science will not
nourish sentiment.&nbsp; The following anecdote shows, however,
as romantic an attachment to iron as was ever manifested towards
wood.&nbsp; On the Great Western Railway, the broad gauge and the
narrow gauge are mixed; the former still existing to the delight
of travellers by the &ldquo;Flying <!-- page 192--><a
name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
192</span>Dutchman,&rdquo; whatever economical shareholders may
have to say to the contrary.&nbsp; The officials who have been
longest on the staff also cling to the broad gauge, like faithful
royalists to a fast disappearing dynasty.&nbsp; The other day an
ancient guard on this line was knocked down and run over by an
engine; and though good enough medical attendance was at hand,
had skill been of any use, the dying man wished to see &ldquo;the
company&rsquo;s&rdquo; doctor.&nbsp; The gentleman, a man much
esteemed by all the employ&eacute;s, was accordingly sent
for.&nbsp; &ldquo;I am glad you came to see me start, doctor, (as
I hope) by the up-train,&rdquo; said the poor man.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
am only sorry I can do nothing for you, my good fellow,&rdquo;
answered the other.&nbsp; &ldquo;I know that; it is all over with
me.&nbsp; But there!&mdash;I&rsquo;m glad it was <i>not one of
them narrow-gauge engines that did it</i>!&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Gentleman&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>&ldquo;DOWN BRAKES,&rdquo; OR FORCE OF HABIT.</h2>
<p>An Illinois captain, lately a railroad conductor, was drilling
a squad, and while marching them by flank, turned to speak to a
friend for a moment.&nbsp; On looking again toward his squad, he
saw they were in the act of &ldquo;butting up&rdquo; against a
fence.&nbsp; In his hurry to halt them, he cried, &ldquo;Down
brakes!&nbsp; Down brakes!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>TRENT STATION.</h2>
<p>This station on the Midland system is often a source of no
little perplexity to strangers.&nbsp; Sir Edward Beckett thus
humorously describes it:&mdash;&ldquo;You arrive at Trent.&nbsp;
Where that is I cannot tell.&nbsp; I suppose it is somewhere near
the river Trent, but then the Trent is a very long river.&nbsp;
You get out of your train to obtain refreshment, and having taken
it, you endeavour to find your train and your carriage.&nbsp; But
whether it is on this side or that, and whether it is going north
or south, this way or that way, you cannot tell.&nbsp;
Bewildered, you frantically rush into your carriage; the train
moves off round a curve, and then you are horrified to see some
lights glaring in front of you, and you are in immediate
expectation of a collision, when your fellow-passenger calms your
fears by telling you that they are only the tail lamps of your
own train.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 193</span>STEEL RAILS.</h2>
<p>The first steel rail was made in 1857, by Mushet, at the
Ebbw-Vale Iron Co.&rsquo;s works in South Wales.&nbsp; It was
rolled from cast blooms of Bessemer steel and laid down at Derby,
England, and remained sixteen years, during which time 250 trains
and at least 250 detached engines and tenders passed over it
daily.&nbsp; Taking 312 working days in each year, we have the
total of 1,252,000 trains and 1,252,000 detached engines and
tenders which passed over it from the time it was first laid
before it was removed to be worked over.</p>
<p>The substitution of steel for iron, to an extent rendered
possible by the Bessemer process, has worked a great and abiding
change in the condition of our ways, giving greater endurance
both in respect of wear and in resistance to breaking strains and
jars.</p>
<p>Two steel rails of twenty-one feet in length were laid on the
2nd of May, 1862, at the Chalk Farm Bridge, side by side with two
ordinary rails.&nbsp; After having outlasted sixteen faces of the
ordinary rails, the steel ones were taken up and examined, and it
was found that at the expiration of three years and three months,
the surface was evenly worn to the extent of only a little more
than a quarter of an inch, and to all appearance they were
capable of enduring a great deal more work.&nbsp; The result of
this trial was to induce the London and North Western to enter
very extensively into the employment of steel rails.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Knight&rsquo;s Dictionary of
Mechanics</i>.</p>
<h2>CURIOUS CASUALTY.</h2>
<p>Out of three truck loads of cattle on the Great Western
Railway two of the animals were struck dead by the lightning on
Monday afternoon, July 5, 1852, not very far from Swindon.&nbsp;
What renders it remarkable is, that one animal only in each of
the two trucks was struck, and five or six animals in each
escaped uninjured.&nbsp; The animal killed in one of the trucks
was a bull, the cows escaping injury, and in the other truck it
was a bull or an ox that was killed.</p>
<h2><!-- page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 194</span>GEORGE STEPHENSON&rsquo;S WEDDING
PRESENT.</h2>
<p>A correspondent, writing to the <i>Derbyshire Courier</i> the
week following the Stephenson Centenary celebration at
Chesterfield, remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;The other day I met a kindly
and venerable gentleman who possesses quite a fund of anecdotes
relating to the Stephensons, father and son.&nbsp; It appears we
have, or had, relations of old George residing in Derby.&nbsp;
Years ago, says my friend, an old gentleman, who by his
appearance and carriage was stamped as a man distinguished among
his fellow-men, was inquiring on Derby platform for a certain
engine-driver in the North Midland or the Birmingham and Derby
service, whose name he gave.&nbsp; On the driver being pointed
out, the gentleman, with the rough but pleasing north-country
burr in his voice, said, after asking his name, &ldquo;Did you
marry &mdash;?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Then she&rsquo;s my niece, and I hope you&rsquo;ll make
her a good husband.&nbsp; I have not had the chance of giving you
a wedding present until now.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then slipping into his
hand a bank note for &pound;50, he talked of other matters.&nbsp;
The joy of the engine-driver at receiving so welcome a present
was not greater than being recognised and kindly received by his
wife&rsquo;s illustrious uncle, George Stephenson.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE POLITE IRISHMAN.</h2>
<p>It&rsquo;s a small matter, but a gentleman always feels angry
at himself after he has given up his seat, in a railway car, to a
female who lacks the good manners to acknowledge the
favour.&nbsp; The following &ldquo;hint&rdquo; to the ladies will
show that a trifle of politeness properly spread on, often has a
happy effect.</p>
<p>The seats were all full, one of which was occupied by a
rough-looking Irishman; and at one of the stations a couple of
evidently well-bred and intelligent young ladies came in to
procure seats, but seeing no vacant ones, were about to go into a
back car, when Patrick rose hastily, and offered them his seat,
with evident pleasure.&nbsp; &ldquo;But you will have no seat
yourself?&rdquo; responded one of the young ladies with a smile,
hesitating, with true politeness, as to accepting it.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Never ye mind <i>that</i>!&rdquo; said the Hibernian,
&ldquo;ye&rsquo;r welcome to &rsquo;t!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d ride upon
the cow-catcher till New York, any time, for a smile from such
<i>jintlemanly</i> ladies;&rdquo; and retreated hastily to the
next car, amid the cheers of those who had witnessed the
affair.</p>
<h2><!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 195</span>AN ENTERTAINING COMPANION.</h2>
<p>Once, during a tour in the Western States, writes Mr.
Florence, the actor, an incident occurred in which I rather think
I played the victim.&nbsp; We were <i>en route</i> from Cleveland
to Cincinnati, an eight or ten-hour journey.&nbsp; After seeing
my wife comfortably seated, I walked forward to the smoking car,
and, taking the only unoccupied place, pulled out my cigar case,
and offered a cigar to my next neighbour.&nbsp; He was about
sixty years of age, gentlemanly in appearance, and of a somewhat
reserved and bashful mien.&nbsp; He gracefully accepted the
cigar, and in a few minutes we were engaged in conversation.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Are you going far west?&rdquo; I inquired.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Merely so far as Columbus.&rdquo;&nbsp; (Columbus, I
may explain is the capital of Ohio.)&nbsp; &ldquo;And you,
sir?&rdquo; he added, interrogatively.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am journeying toward Cincinnati.&nbsp; I am a
theatrical man, and play there to-morrow night.&rdquo;&nbsp; I
was a young man then, and fond of avowing my profession.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, indeed!&nbsp; Your face seemed familiar to me as
you entered the car.&nbsp; I am confident we have met
before.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I have acted in almost every State in the Union,&rdquo;
said I.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mrs. Florence and I are pretty generally
known throughout the north-west.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Bless me?&rdquo; said the stranger in surprise,
&ldquo;I have seen you act many times, sir, and the recollection
of Mrs. Florence&rsquo;s &lsquo;Yankee Girl,&rsquo; with her
quaint songs, is still fresh in my memory.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Do you propose remaining long in Columbus?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, for seven years,&rdquo; replied my companion.</p>
<p>Thus we chatted for an hour or two.&nbsp; At length my
attention was attracted to a little, red-faced man, with small
sharp eyes, who sat immediately opposite us and amused himself by
sucking the knob of a large walking stick which he carried
caressingly in his hand.&nbsp; He had more than once glanced at
me in a knowing manner, and now and then gave a sly wink and
shake of the head at me, as much as to say, &ldquo;Ah, old
fellow, I know you, too.&rdquo;</p>
<p>These attentions were so marked that I finally asked my
companion if he had noticed them.</p>
<p>&ldquo;That poor man acts like a lunatic,&rdquo; said I,
<i>sotto voce</i>.</p>
<p><!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
196</span>&ldquo;A poor half-witted fellow, possibly,&rdquo;
replied my fellow-traveller.&nbsp; &ldquo;In your travels through
the country, however, Mr. Florence, you must have often met such
strange characters.&rdquo;</p>
<p>We had now reached Crestline, the dinner station, and, after
thanking the stranger for the agreeable way in which he had
enabled me to pass the journey up to this point, I asked him if
he would join Mrs. Florence and myself at dinner.&nbsp; This
produced an extraordinary series of grimaces and winks from the
red-faced party aforesaid.&nbsp; The invitation to dinner was
politely declined.</p>
<p>The repast over, our train sped on toward Cincinnati.&nbsp; I
told my wife that in the smoking car I had met a most
entertaining gentleman, who was well posted in theatricals, and
was on his way to Columbus.&nbsp; She suggested that I should
bring him into our car, and present him to her.&nbsp; I returned
to the smoking car and proposed that the gentleman should
accompany me to see Mrs. Florence.&nbsp; The proposal made the
red-faced man undergo a species of spasmodic convulsions which
set the occupants of the car into roars of laughter.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, I thank you,&rdquo; said my friend, &ldquo;I feel
obliged to you for the courtesy, but I prefer the smoking
car.&nbsp; Have you another cigar?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said I, producing another Partaga.</p>
<p>I again sat by his side, and once more our conversation began,
and we were quite fraternal.&nbsp; We talked about theatres and
theatricals, and then adverted to political economy, the state of
the country, finance and commerce in turn, our intimacy evidently
affording intense amusement to the foxy-faced party near us.</p>
<p>Finally the shrill sound of the whistle and the entrance of
the conductor indicated that we had arrived at Columbus, and the
train soon arrived at the station.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the red-faced individual, now rising
from his seat and tapping my companion on the shoulder,
&ldquo;This is your station, old man.&rdquo;</p>
<p>My friend rose with some difficulty, dragging his hitherto
concealed feet from under the seat, when, for the first time, I
discovered that he was shackled, and was a prisoner in charge of
the Sheriff, going for seven years to the state prison at
Columbus.</p>
<h2><!-- page 197--><a name="page197"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 197</span>NOVEL ATTACK.</h2>
<p>Auxerre, November 15th, 1851.&mdash;Last week, at the moment
when a railway tender was passing along the line from Saint
Florentin to Tonnerre, a wolf boldly leaped upon it and attacked
the stoker.&nbsp; The man immediately seized his shovel and
repulsed the aggressor, who fell upon the rail and was instantly
crushed to pieces.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>National</i>.</p>
<h2>WOLVES ON A RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>In 1867, &ldquo;A cattle train on the Luxemburg Railway was
stopped,&rdquo; says the <i>Nord</i>, &ldquo;two nights back,
between Libramont and Poix by the snow.&nbsp; The brakesman was
sent forward for aid to clear the line, and while the guard,
fireman, engine-driver, and a customs officer were engaged in
getting the snow from under the engine they were alarmed by
wolves, of which there were five, and which were attracted, no
doubt, by the scent of the oxen and sheep cooped up in railed-in
carriages.&nbsp; The men had no weapons save the fire utensils
belonging to the engine.&nbsp; The wolves remained in a
semicircle a few yards distant, looking keenly on.&nbsp; The
engine-driver let off the steam and blew the whistle, and
lanterns were waved to and fro, but the savage brutes did not
move.&nbsp; The men then made their way, followed by the wolves,
to the guard&rsquo;s carriage.&nbsp; Three got in safe; whilst
the fourth was on the step one of the animals sprang on him, but
succeeded only in tearing his coat.&nbsp; They all then made an
attack, but were beaten off, one being killed by a blow on the
head.&nbsp; Two hours elapsed before assistance arrived, and
during that time the wolves made several attacks upon the sheep
trucks, but failed to get in.&nbsp; None of the cattle were
injured.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ARTEMUS WARD&rsquo;S SUGGESTION.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;I was once,&rdquo; he remarks, &ldquo;on a slow
California train, and I went to the conductor and suggested that
the cowketcher was on the wrong end of the train; for I said,
&lsquo;You will never overtake a cow, you know; but if
you&rsquo;d put it on the other end it might be useful, for now
there&rsquo;s nothin&rsquo; on earth to hinder a cow from
walkin&rsquo; right in and bitin&rsquo; the folks!&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 198--><a name="page198"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 198</span>COACH VERSUS RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.</h2>
<p>A coachman once remarked, &ldquo;Why you see, sir, if a coach
goes over and spills you in the road there you are; but if you
are blown up by an engine, where are you?&rdquo;</p>
<h2>BAVARIAN GUARDS AND BAVARIAN BEER.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;In England,&rdquo; says Mr. Wilberforce, &ldquo;the
guard is content to be the servant of the train; in Germany he is
in command of the passengers.&nbsp; &lsquo;When is the train
going on?&rsquo; asked an Englishman once of a foreign
guard.&nbsp; &lsquo;Whenever I choose,&rsquo; was the
answer.&nbsp; To judge from the delays the trains make at some of
the stations, one would suppose that the guard had uncontrolled
power of causing stoppages.&nbsp; You see him chatting with the
station-master for several minutes after all the carriages have
been shut up, and at last, when the topics of conversation are
exhausted, he gives a condescending whistle to the
engine-driver.&nbsp; Time seems never to be considered by either
guards or passengers.&nbsp; Bavarians always go to the station
half-an-hour before the train is due, and their indifference to
delay is so well known that the directors can put on their time
book &lsquo;As the time of departure from small stations cannot
be guaranteed, the travellers must be there twenty-five minutes
beforehand.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Wilberforce should not have
omitted to mention the main cause of these delays, which appears
at the same time to constitute the final cause of a
Bavarian&rsquo;s existence&mdash;Beer.&nbsp; Guards and
passengers alike require alcoholic refreshment at least at every
other station.&nbsp; At Culmbach, the fountain of the choicest
variety of Bavarian beer, the practice had risen to such a head
that, as we found last summer, government had been forced to
interfere.&nbsp; To prevent trains from dallying if there was
beer to drink at Culmbach was obviously impossible.&nbsp; The
temptation itself was removed; and no beer was any longer allowed
to be sold at that fated railway station, by reason of its being
so superlatively excellent.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Saturday Review</i>,
1864.</p>
<h2><!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 199</span>THE RAILWAY SWITCH-TENDER AND HIS
CHILD.</h2>
<p>On one of the railroads in Prussia, a few years ago, a
switch-tender was just taking his place, in order to turn a
coming train approaching in a contrary direction.&nbsp; Just at
this moment, on turning his head, he discerned his little son
playing on the track of the advancing engine.&nbsp; What could he
do?&nbsp; Thought was quick at such a moment of peril!&nbsp; He
might spring to his child and rescue him, but he could not do
this and turn the switch in time, and for want of that hundreds
of lives might be lost.&nbsp; Although in sore trouble, he could
not neglect his greater duty, but exclaiming with a loud voice to
his son, &ldquo;Lie down,&rdquo; he laid hold of the switch, and
saw the train safely turned on to its proper track.&nbsp; His
boy, accustomed to obedience, did as his father commanded him,
and the fearful heavy train thundered over him.&nbsp; Little did
the passengers dream, as they found themselves quietly resting on
that turnout, what terrible anguish their approach had that day
caused to one noble heart.&nbsp; The father rushed to where his
boy lay, fearful lest he should find only a mangled corpse, but
to his great joy and thankful gratitude he found him alive and
unharmed.&nbsp; Prompt obedience had saved him.&nbsp; Had he
paused to argue, to reason whether it were best&mdash;death, and
fearful mutilation of body, would have resulted.&nbsp; The
circumstances connected with this event were made known to the
King of Prussia, who the next day sent for the man and presented
him with a medal of honour for his heroism.</p>
<h2>VERY COOL.</h2>
<p>Some years ago at a railway station a gentleman actually
followed a person with a portmanteau, which he thought to be his,
but the fellow, unabashed, maintaining it to be his own property,
the gentleman returned to inquire after his, and found, when too
late, that his first suspicions were correct.</p>
<h2>THE BLACK REDSTART.</h2>
<p>A railway carriage had been left for some weeks out of use in
the station at Giessen, Hesse Darmstadt, in the month of May,
1852, and when the superintendent came to <!-- page 200--><a
name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 200</span>examine the
carriage he found that a black redstart had built her nest upon
the collision spring; he very humanely retained the carriage in
its shed until its use was imperatively demanded, and at last
attached it to the train which ran to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, a
distance of nearly forty miles.&nbsp; It remained at Frankfort
for thirty-six hours, and was then brought back to Giessen, and
after one or two short journeys came back again to rest at
Giessen, after a period of four days.&nbsp; The young birds were
by this time partly fledged, and finding that the parent bird had
not deserted her offspring, the superintendent carefully removed
the nest to a place of safety, whither the parent soon
followed.&nbsp; The young were, in process of time, full fledged
and left the nest to shift for themselves.&nbsp; It is evident
that one at least of the parent birds must have accompanied the
nest in all its journeys, for, putting aside the difficulty which
must have been experienced by the parents in watching for every
carriage that arrived at Giessen, the nestlings would have
perished from hunger during their stay at Frankfort, for everyone
who has reared young birds is perfectly aware that they need food
every two hours.&nbsp; Moreover, the guard of the train
repeatedly saw a red-tailed bird flying about that part of the
carriage on which the nest was placed.</p>
<h2>STOPPING A RUNAWAY COUPLE.</h2>
<p>Captain Galton who some years ago was the government railway
inspector, in one of his reports relates the following singular
circumstance.&nbsp; &ldquo;A girl who was in love with the
engine-driver of a train, had engaged to run away from her
father&rsquo;s house in order to be married.&nbsp; She arranged
to leave by a train this man was driving.&nbsp; Her father and
brother got intelligence of her intended escape; and having
missed catching her as she got into the train, they contrived,
whether with or without the assistance of a porter is not very
clear, to turn the train through facing points, as it left the
station, into a bog.&rdquo;&nbsp; The captain does not pursue the
subject further in his report, so that we are left in ignorance
as to the success of the plan for stopping a contemplated runaway
marriage.</p>
<h2><!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 201</span>A MADMAN IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.</h2>
<p>We subjoin from the <i>Annual Register</i> for 1864 an account
of an alarming occurrence which took place July 4th of that
year:&mdash;&ldquo;In one of the third-class compartments of the
express train leaving King&rsquo;s Cross Station at 9.15 p.m., a
tall and strongly-built man, dressed as a sailor, and having a
wild and haggard look, took his seat about three minutes before
the train started.&nbsp; He was accompanied to the carriage by a
woman, whom he afterwards referred to as his wife, and by a man,
apparently a cab-driver, of both of whom he took leave when the
train was about to start.&nbsp; It had scarcely done so, when, on
putting his hand to his pocket, he called out that he had been
robbed of his purse, containing &pound;17, and at once began to
shout and gesticulate in a manner which greatly alarmed his
fellow-travellers, four in number, in the same compartment.&nbsp;
He continued to roar and swear with increasing violence for some
time, and then made an attempt to throw himself out of the
window.&nbsp; He threw his arms and part of his body out of the
window, and had just succeeded in placing one of his legs out,
when the other occupants of the carriage, who had been
endeavouring to keep him back, succeeded in dragging him from the
window.&nbsp; Being foiled in this attempt, he turned round upon
those who had been instrumental in keeping him back.&nbsp; After
a long and severe struggle, which&mdash;notwithstanding the speed
the train was running at&mdash;was heard in the adjoining
compartments, the sailor was overcome by the united exertions of
the party, and was held down in a prostrate position by two of
their number.&nbsp; Though thus secured, he still continued to
struggle and shout vehemently, and it was not till some time
afterwards, when they managed to bind his hands and strap him to
the seat, that the passengers in the compartment felt themselves
secure.&nbsp; This train, it may be explained, makes the journey
from London to Peterborough, a distance little short of eighty
miles, without a single stoppage; and as the scene we have been
describing began immediately after the train left London, the
expectation of having to pass the time usually occupied between
the two stations (one hour and fifty minutes) with such a
companion must have been far from agreeable.&nbsp; While the
struggle was going on, and <!-- page 202--><a
name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 202</span>even for
some time afterwards, almost frantic attempts were made to get
the train stopped.&nbsp; The attention of those in the adjoining
compartment was readily gained by waving handkerchiefs out of the
window, and by-and-by a full explanation of the circumstances was
communicated through the aperture in which the lamp that lights
both compartments is placed.&nbsp; A request to communicate with
the guard was made from one carriage to another for a short
distance, but it was found impossible to continue it, and so the
occupants of the compartments beyond the one nearest the scene of
the disturbance could learn nothing as to its nature, a vague
feeling of alarm seized them, and all the way along to
Peterborough a succession of shouts of &lsquo;Stop the
train,&rsquo; mixed with the frantic screams of female
passengers, was kept up.&nbsp; On the arrival of the train at
Peterborough the man was released by his captors and placed on
the platform.&nbsp; No sooner was he there, however, than he
rushed with a renewed outburst of fury on those who had taken the
chief part in restraining his violence, and as he kept
vociferating that they had robbed him of his money, it was some
time before the railway officials could be got to
interfere&mdash;indeed, it seemed likely for some time that he
would be allowed to go on in the train.&nbsp; As remonstrances
were made from all quarters to the station-master to take the
fellow into custody, he at length agreed, after being furnished
with the names and addresses of the other occupants of the
carriage, to hand him over to the police.&nbsp; The general
impression on those who witnessed the sailor&rsquo;s fury seemed
to be that he was labouring under a violent attack of delirium
tremens, and he had every appearance of having been drinking hard
for some days.&nbsp; Had there been only one or even two
occupants of the compartment besides himself, there seems every
reason to believe that a much more deadly struggle would have
ensued, as he displayed immense strength.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>INSURED.</h2>
<p>The engine of an ordinary railway train broke down midway
between two stations.&nbsp; As an express train was momentarily
expected to arrive at the spot, the passengers were urgently
called upon to get out of the carriages.&nbsp; A countryman in
leather breeches and top-boots, who sat in a <!-- page 203--><a
name="page203"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 203</span>corner of
one of the carriages, comfortably swathed in a travelling
blanket, obstinately refused to budge.&nbsp; In vain the porter
begged him to come out, saying the express would reach the spot
in a minute, and the train would in all probability be dashed to
pieces.&nbsp; The traveller pulled an insurance ticket out of his
breeches pocket, exclaiming, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see
I&rsquo;ve insured my life?&rdquo; and with that he set up a
horse laugh, and sunk back into his corner.&nbsp; They had to
force him out of the train, and an instant afterwards the express
ran into it.</p>
<h2>A NEW TRICK.</h2>
<p>A novel illustration of the ingenuity of thieves has been
afforded by an incident reported from the continent.&nbsp; For
some time past a North German railway company had been suffering
from the repeated loss of goods which were sent by luggage train,
and which, notwithstanding all research and precautions,
continued to disappear in a very mysterious manner.&nbsp; The
secret which the inquiries set on foot had failed to discover was
at length revealed by a rather amusing accident.&nbsp; A long
box, on one side of which were words equivalent to &ldquo;This
side up,&rdquo; had, in disregard of this caution, been set up on
end in the goods shed.&nbsp; Some time afterwards the
employ&eacute;s were not a little startled to hear a voice,
apparently proceeding from the box in question, begging the
hearers to let the speaker out.&nbsp; On opening the lid, the
railway officials were surprised and amused to find a man inside
standing on his head.&nbsp; In the explanation which followed,
the fellow wanted to account for his appearance under such
unusual circumstances as due to the result of a wager, but he was
given into custody, and it was soon found that the thieves had
adopted this method of conveying themselves on to the railway
premises, and that during the absence of the employ&eacute;s they
had let themselves out of the box which they at once filled with
any articles they could lay their hands on, refastened the lid,
and then decamped.&nbsp; But for the unfortunate inability of
human nature to endure an inverted position for an indefinite
period, the ingenious authors of the scheme might have flourished
a long time without detection.</p>
<h2><!-- page 204--><a name="page204"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 204</span>A TRAIN STOPPED BY
CATERPILLARS.</h2>
<p><i>Colonies and India</i> quotes from a New Zealand paper the
following story:&mdash;In the neighbourhood of Turakina an army
of caterpillars, hundreds of thousands strong, was marching
across the railway line, bound for a new field of oats, when the
train came along.&nbsp; Thousands of the creeping vermin were
crushed by the wheels of the engine, and suddenly the train came
to a dead stop.&nbsp; On examination it was found that the wheels
of the engine had become so greasy that they kept on revolving
without advancing&mdash;they could not grip the rails.&nbsp; The
guard and the engine driver procured sand and strewed it on the
rails, and the train made a fresh start, but it was found that
during the stoppage caterpillars in thousands had crawled all
over the engine, and all over the carriages inside and out.</p>
<h2>TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA.</h2>
<p>Of course, travelling in Russia is no longer what it
was.&nbsp; During the last quarter of a century a vast network of
railways has been constructed and one can now travel in a
comfortable first-class carriage from Berlin to St. Petersburg or
Moscow, and thence to Odessa, Sebastopol, the Lower Volga, or
even the foot of the Caucasus; and, on the whole, it must be
admitted that the railways are tolerably comfortable.&nbsp; The
carriages are decidedly better than in England, and in winter
they are kept warm by small iron stoves, such as we sometimes see
in steamers, assisted by double windows and double doors&mdash;a
very necessary precaution in a land where the thermometer often
descends to 30 degrees below zero.&nbsp; The trains never attain,
it is true, a high rate of speed&mdash;so at least English and
Americans think&mdash;but then we must remember that Russians are
rarely in a hurry, and like to have frequent opportunities of
eating and drinking.&nbsp; In Russia time is not money; if it
were, nearly all the subjects of the Tsar would always have a
large stock of ready money on hand, and would often have great
difficulty in spending it.&nbsp; In reality, be it
parenthetically remarked, a Russian with a superabundance of
ready money is a phenomenon rarely met with in real life.</p>
<p><!-- page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
205</span>In conveying passengers at the rate of from fifteen to
thirty miles an hour, the railway companies do at least all that
they promise, but in one very important respect they do not
always strictly fulfil their engagements.&nbsp; The traveller
takes a ticket for a certain town, and on arriving at what he
imagines to be his destination, he may merely find a railway
station surrounded by fields.&nbsp; On making inquiries he finds
to his disappointment, that the station is by no means identical
with the town bearing the same name, and that the railway has
fallen several miles short of fulfilling the bargain, as he
understood the terms of the contract.&nbsp; Indeed, it might
almost be said as a general rule railways in Russia, like camel
drivers in certain Eastern countries, studiously avoid the
towns.&nbsp; This seems at first a strange fact.&nbsp; It is
possible to conceive that the Bedouin is so enamoured of tent
life and nomadic habits, that he shuns a town as he would a
man-trap; but surely civil engineers and railway contractors have
no such dread of brick and mortar.&nbsp; The true reason, I
suspect, is that land within or immediately without the municipal
barrier is relatively dear, and that the railways, being
completely beyond the invigorating influence of healthy
competition, can afford to look upon the comfort and convenience
of passengers as a secondary consideration.</p>
<p>It is but fair to state that in one celebrated instance
neither engineers nor railway contractors were to blame.&nbsp;
From St. Petersburg to Moscow the locomotive runs for a distance
of 400 miles, almost as &ldquo;the crow&rdquo; is supposed to
fly, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left.&nbsp; For
fifteen weary hours the passenger in the express train looks out
on forest and morass and rarely catches sight of human
habitation.&nbsp; Only once he perceives in the distance what may
be called a town; it is Tver which has been thus favoured, not
because it is a place of importance, but simply because it
happened to be near the straight line.&nbsp; And why was the
railway constructed in this extraordinary fashion?&nbsp; For the
best of all reasons&mdash;because the Tsar so ordered it.&nbsp;
When the preliminary survey was being made, Nicholas learned that
the officers intrusted with the task&mdash;and the Minister of
Ways and Roads in the number&mdash;were being influenced more by
personal than by technical considerations, <!-- page 206--><a
name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>and he
determined to cut the Gordian knot in true Imperial style.&nbsp;
When the Minister laid before him the map with the intention of
explaining the proposed route, he took a ruler, drew a straight
line from the one terminus to the other, and remarked in a tone
that precluded all discussion, &ldquo;You will construct the line
so!&rdquo;&nbsp; And the line was so constructed&mdash;remaining
to all future ages, like St. Petersburg and the Pyramids, a
magnificent monument of autocratic power.</p>
<p>Formerly this well-known incident was often cited in whispered
philippics to illustrate the evils of the autocratic form of
government.&nbsp; Imperial whims, it was said, override grave
economic considerations.&nbsp; In recent years, however, a change
seems to have taken place in public opinion, and some people now
venture to assert that this so-called Imperial whim was an act of
far-seeing policy.&nbsp; As by far the greater part of the goods
and passengers are carried the whole length of the line, it is
well that the line should be as short as possible, and that
branch lines should be constructed to the towns lying to the
right and left.&nbsp; Apart from political considerations, it
must be admitted that a great deal may be said in support of this
view.</p>
<p>In the development of the railway system there has been
another disturbing cause, which is not likely to occur to the
English mind.&nbsp; In England, individuals and companies
habitually act according to their private interests, and the
State interferes as little as possible; private initiative acts
as it pleases, unless the authorities can prove that important
bad consequences will necessarily result.&nbsp; In Russia, the
<i>onus probandi</i> lies on the other side; private initiative
is allowed to do nothing until it gives guarantees against all
possible bad consequences.&nbsp; When any great enterprise is
projected, the first question is&mdash;&ldquo;How will this new
scheme affect the interests of the State?&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus, when
the course of a new railway has to be determined, the military
authorities are always consulted, and their opinion has a great
influence on the ultimate decision.&nbsp; The consequence of this
is that the railway map of Russia presents to the eye of the
tactician much that is quite unintelligible to the ordinary
observer&mdash;a fact that will become apparent to the
uninitiated as soon as a war breaks out in Eastern Europe.&nbsp;
<!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
207</span>Russia is no longer what she was in the days of the
Crimean war, when troops and stores had to be conveyed hundreds
of miles by the most primitive means of transport.&nbsp; At that
time she had only about 750 miles of railway; now she has more
than 11,000 miles, and every year new lines are constructed.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Russia</i>, by D. M. Wallace,
M.A.</p>
<h2>AN ARMY WITH BANNERS.</h2>
<p>As giving an idea of the old way of signalling and precautions
employed to ensure safety on the Hudson River Railroad nearly
forty years ago, we append the following from the <i>Albany
Journal</i>.&nbsp; It should be premised that this road extends
from New York to East Albany, a distance of only 144
miles:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">an army with
banners</span>.&mdash;As you are whirled along over the Hudson
River Railroad at the rate of 40 miles an hour, you catch a
glimpse, every minute or two, of a man waving something like a
white pocket handkerchief on the end of a stick, with a
satisfactory sort of expression of countenance.&nbsp; If you take
the trouble to count, you will find that it happens some two
hundred times between East Albany and Thirty-first street.&nbsp;
It looks like rather a useless ceremony, at first glance, but is
a pretty important one, nevertheless.</p>
<p>&ldquo;There are 225 of these &lsquo;flagmen&rsquo; stationed
at intervals along the whole length of the line.&nbsp; Just
before a train is to pass, each one walks over his
&ldquo;beat,&rdquo; and looks to see that every track and tie,
every tunnel, switch, rail, clamp, and rivet, is in good order
and free from obstruction.&nbsp; If so, he takes his stand with a
white flag and waves it to the approaching train as a signal to
&lsquo;come on&rsquo;&mdash;and come on it does, at full
speed.&nbsp; If there is anything wrong, he waves a red flag, or
at night a red lamp, and the engineer, on seeing it, promptly
shuts off the steam, and sounds the whistle to &lsquo;put down
the brakes.&rsquo;&nbsp; Every inch of the road is carefully
examined after the passage of each train.&nbsp; Austrian
espionage is hardly more strict.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 208--><a name="page208"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 208</span>SEIZURE OF A RAILWAY TRAIN FOR
DEBT.</h2>
<p>The financial difficulties under which some railway companies
have recently laboured were brought to a crisis lately in the
case of the Potteries, Shrewsbury, and North Wales Railway, a
line running from Llanymynech to Shrewsbury, with a projected
continuation to the Potteries.&nbsp; A debenture holder having
obtained a judgment against the company, a writ was forthwith
issued, and a few days back the sheriff&rsquo;s officers
unexpectedly presented themselves at the company&rsquo;s
principal station in Shrewsbury, and formally entered upon
possession.&nbsp; The down train immediately after entered the
station, and the bailiffs, without having given any previous
intimation to the manager, whose office adjoins the station,
seized the engines and carriages, and refused to permit the
outgoing train to start, although many passengers had taken
tickets.&nbsp; Ultimately the manager obtained the requisite
permission, and it was arranged that the train should make the
journey, one of the bailiffs meanwhile remaining in charge.&nbsp;
The acting-sheriff refused a similar concession with regard to
the further running of the trains, and it being fair day at
Shrewsbury, and a large number of persons from various stations
along the line having taken return tickets, much inconvenience to
the public was likely to ensue.&nbsp; The North Wales section of
this line was completed in August last at a cost of a little over
&pound;1,100,000, and was opened for passenger and goods traffic
on the 13th of that month.&nbsp; As has already been stated, the
ordinary traffic of the line was, after the enforcement of the
writ, permitted to be continued, with the proviso that a bailiff
should accompany each train.&nbsp; This condition was naturally
very galling to the officials of the railway company, but they
nevertheless treated the representative of the civil law with a
marked politeness.&nbsp; On the night of his first becoming a
constant passenger by the line he rode in a first-class carriage
to Llanymynech, and on the return journey the attentive guard
conducted him to a similar compartment which was devoted to his
sole occupation.&nbsp; On arriving at Kennerly the bailiff became
conscious of the progress of an elaborate process of shunting,
followed by an entire stoppage of the train.&nbsp; After sitting
patiently for some minutes it occurred to him to put his head out
of <!-- page 209--><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
209</span>the window and inquire the reason for the delay, and in
carrying out the idea he discovered that the train of which his
carriage had lately formed a part was vanishing from sight round
a distant curve in the line.&nbsp; He lost no time in getting out
and making his way into the station, which he found locked up,
according to custom, after the passage through of the last down
train.&nbsp; Kennerly is a small roadside station about 12 miles
from Shrewsbury, and offers no accommodation for chance guests;
and, had it been otherwise, it was of course the first duty of
the bailiff to look after the train, of which he at that moment
was supposed to be in &ldquo;possession.&rdquo;&nbsp; There being
no alternative, he started on foot for Shrewsbury, where he
arrived shortly after midnight, having accomplished a perilous
passage along the line.&nbsp; It appeared, on inquiry, that in
the course of the shunting the coupling-chain which connected the
tail coach with the body of the train had by some means become
unlinked; hence the accident.&nbsp; The bailiff accepted the
explanation, but on subsequent journeys he carefully avoided the
tail-coach.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Railway News</i>, 1866.</p>
<h2>A KANGAROO ATTACKING A TRAIN.</h2>
<p>The latest marsupial freak is thus given by a thoroughly
reliable correspondent of the <i>Courier</i> (an Australian
paper):&mdash;A rather exciting race took place between the train
and a large kangaroo on Wednesday night last.&nbsp; When about
nine miles from Dalby a special surprised the kangaroo, who was
inside the fences.&nbsp; The animal ran for some distance in
front, but getting exhausted he suddenly turned to face his
opponent, and jumped savagely at the stoker on the engine, who,
not being able to run, gamely faced the &ldquo;old man&rdquo;
with a handful of coal.&nbsp; The kangaroo, however, only reached
the side of the tender, when, the step striking him, he was
&ldquo;knocked clean out of it&rdquo; in the one round.&nbsp; No
harm happened beyond a bit of a scare to the stoker, as the
kangaroo picked himself up quickly and cleared the fence.</p>
<h2><!-- page 210--><a name="page210"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 210</span>SHE TAKES FITS.</h2>
<p>Some time ago, an old lady and gentleman were coming from
Devenport when the train was crowded.&nbsp; A young man got up
and gave the old lady a seat, while his companion, another young
gent, remained stedfast and let the old gent stand.&nbsp; This
did not suit the old gentleman, so he concluded to get a seat in
some way, and quickly turning to the young man on the seat beside
his wife, he said:&mdash;&ldquo;Will you be so kind as to watch
that woman while I get a seat in another carriage?&nbsp; She
takes fits!&rdquo;&nbsp; This startled the young gent.&nbsp; He
could not bear the idea of taking charge of a fitty woman, so the
old gentleman got a seat, and his wife was never known to take a
fit afterwards.</p>
<h2>SNAGS&rsquo; CORNERS.</h2>
<p>The officials of a Michigan railroad that was being extended
were waited upon the other day by a person from the pine woods
and sand hills who announced himself as Mr. Snags, and who wanted
to know if it could be possible that the proposed line was not to
come any nearer than three miles to the hamlet named in his
honour.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is Snags&rsquo; Corners a place of much
importance?&rdquo; asked the President.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is it?&nbsp; Well, I should say it was!&nbsp; We made
over a ton of maple sugar there last spring!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Does business flourish there?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Flourish!&nbsp; Why, business is on the gallop there
every minute in the whole twenty-four hours.&nbsp; We had three
false alarms of fire there in one week.&nbsp; How&rsquo;s that
for a town which is to be left three miles off your
railroad?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Being asked to give the names of the business houses, he
scratched his head for awhile, and then replied&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s me, to start on.&nbsp; I run a big
store, own eight yokes of oxen, and shall soon have a dam and a
sawmill.&nbsp; Then there&rsquo;s a blacksmith shop, a
post-office, a doctor, and last week over a dozen patent-right
men passed through there.&nbsp; In one brief year we&rsquo;ve
increased from a squatter and two dogs to our present standing,
and we&rsquo;ll have a lawyer there before long.&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 211--><a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
211</span>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid we won&rsquo;t be able to come
any nearer the Corners than the present survey,&rdquo; finally
remarked the President.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t!&nbsp; It can&rsquo;t be possible that
you mean to skip a growing place like Snags&rsquo;
Corners!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ll have to.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t come if I&rsquo;d clear you out a place
in the store for a ticket office?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see how we could.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;May be I&rsquo;d subscribe 25 dols.,&rdquo; continued
the delegate.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, we cannot change.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t do it nohow?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Mr. Snags as he put on his
hat.&nbsp; &ldquo;If this &rsquo;ere railroad thinks it can stunt
or cripple Snags&rsquo; Corners by leaving it out in the cold it
has made a big mistake.&nbsp; Before I leave town to-day
I&rsquo;m going to buy a windmill and a melodeon, and your old
locomotives may toot and be hanged, sir&mdash;toot and be
hanged!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A NEWSPAPER WONDER.</h2>
<p>The <i>Railway Journal</i>, an American newspaper, containing
the latest intelligence with respect to home and foreign
politics, the money market, Congress debates, and theatrical
events, is now printed and published daily in the trains running
between New York and San Francisco.&nbsp; All the news with which
its columns are filled is telegraphed from different parts of the
States to certain stations on the line, there collected by the
editorial staff travelling in the train, and set up, printed, and
circulated among the subscribing passengers while the iron horse
is persistently traversing plains and valleys, crossing rivers,
and ascending mountain ranges.&nbsp; Every morning the traveller
may have his newspaper served up with his coffee, and thus keep
himself informed of all that is going on in the wide world during
a seven days&rsquo; journey covering over three thousand miles of
ground.&nbsp; He who pays his subscription at New York, which he
can do at the railway ticket-office, receives the last copy of
his paper on the summit of the Sierra Nevada.&nbsp; The
production of a news-sheet from a flying printing office <!--
page 212--><a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
212</span>at an elevation of some ten thousand feet above the
level of the sea is most assuredly a performance worthy of
conspicuous record in journalistic annals, and highly creditable
to American enterprise.</p>
<h2>MONETARY DIFFICULTIES IN SPAIN.</h2>
<p>Sir Arthur Helps, in his life of Mr. Brassey,
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;There were few, if any, of the great
undertakings in which Mr. Brassey embarked that gave him so much
trouble in respect of the financial arrangements as the Spanish
railway from Bilbao to Tudela.&nbsp; The secretary, Mr. Tapp,
thus recounts the difficulties which they had to
encounter:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;The great difficulty in Spain was in getting
money to pay the men for doing the work&mdash;a very great
difficulty.&nbsp; The bank was not in the habit of having large
cheques drawn upon it to pay money; for nearly all the merchants
kept their cash in safes in their offices, and it was a very
debased kind of money, coins composed of half copper and half
silver, and very much defaced.&nbsp; You had to take a good many
of them on faith.&nbsp; I had to send down fifteen days before
the pay day came round, to commence getting the money from the
bank, obtaining perhaps &pound;2,000 or &pound;3,000 a day.&nbsp;
It was brought to the office, recounted, and put into my
safe.&nbsp; In that way I accumulated a ton-and-a-half of money
every month during our busy season.&nbsp; When pay week came, I
used to send a carriage or a large coach, drawn by four or six
mules, with a couple of civil guards, one on each side, together
with one of the clerks from the office, a man to drive, and
another&mdash;a sort of stableman&mdash;who went to help them out
of their difficulty in case the mules gave any trouble up the
hilly country.&nbsp; I was at the office at six o&rsquo;clock,
and I was always in a state of anxiety until I knew that the
money had arrived safely at the end of the journey.&nbsp; More
than once the conveyance broke down in the mountains.&nbsp; On
one occasion the axle of our carriage broke in half from the
weight of the money, and I had to send off two omnibuses to
relieve them.&nbsp; I had the load divided, and sent one to one
section of the line and one to the other.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Q.&mdash;Was any attempt made to rob the
carriage?</p>
<p><!-- page 213--><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
213</span>&ldquo;&lsquo;A.&mdash;Never; we always sent a clerk
armed with a revolver as the principal guard.&nbsp; We heard once
of a conspiracy to rob us; but, to avoid that, we went by another
road.&nbsp; We were told that some men had been seen loitering
about the mountain the night before.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A CARLIST CHIEF AS A SUB-CONTRACTOR.</h2>
<p>The natural financial difficulties of constructing a railway
in Spain were added to by the strange kind of people Mr.
Brassey&rsquo;s agents were obliged to employ.&nbsp; One of the
sub-contractors was a certain Carlist chief whom the government
dared not arrest on account of his great influence.&nbsp; Mr.
Tapp thus relates the Carlist chief&rsquo;s mode of settling a
financial dispute:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;When he got into difficulties, Mr. Small, the district
agent, offered him the amount which was due to him according to
his measured work.&nbsp; He had over 100 men to pay, and Mr.
Small offered him the money that was coming to him, according to
the measurement, but he would not have it, nor would he let the
agent pay the men.&nbsp; He said he would have the money he
demanded; and he brought all his men into the town of Orduna, and
the men regularly bivouacked round Mr. Small&rsquo;s
office.&nbsp; They slept in the streets and stayed there all
night, and would not let Mr. Small come out of the office till he
had paid them the money.&nbsp; He attempted to get on his horse
to go out&mdash;his horses were kept in the house (that is the
practice in the houses of Spain); but when he rode out they
pulled him off his horse and pushed him back, and said that he
should not go until he had paid them the money.&nbsp; He passed
the night in terror, with loaded pistols and guns, expecting that
he and his family would be massacred every minute, but he
contrived eventually to send his staff-holder to Bilbao on
horseback.&nbsp; The man galloped all the way to Bilbao, a
distance of twenty-five miles, and went to Mr. Bartlett in the
middle of the night, and told him what had happened.&nbsp; Mr.
Bartlett immediately sent a detachment up to the place to
disperse the men.&nbsp; This Carlist threatened that if Mr. Small
did not pay the money he would kill every person in the
house.&nbsp; When he was asked, &lsquo;Would you kill a man <!--
page 214--><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
214</span>for that?&rsquo; he replied, &lsquo;Yes, like a
fly,&rsquo; and this coming from a man who, as I was told, had
already killed fourteen men with his own hand, was rather
alarming.&nbsp; Mr. Brassey and his partners suffer a great
amount of loss by their contracts for the Bilbao
railway.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>HOW TO BEAR LOSSES.</h2>
<p>During the construction of the Bilbao line, shortly before the
proposed opening, it set in to rain in such an exceptional manner
that some of the works were destroyed.&nbsp; The agent
telegraphed to Mr. Brassey to come immediately, as a certain
bridge had been washed down.&nbsp; About three hours afterwards
another telegram was sent, stating that a large bank was washed
away; and next morning, another, stating the rain continued, and
more damage had been done.&nbsp; Mr. Brassey, turning to a
friend, said, laughingly: &ldquo;I think I had better wait until
I hear that the rain has ceased, so that when I do go, I may see
what is left of the works, and estimate all the disasters at
once, and so save a second journey.&rdquo;</p>
<p>No doubt Mr. Brassey felt these great losses that occasionally
came upon him much as other men do; but he had an excellent way
of bearing them, and, like a great general, never, if possible,
gave way to despondency in the presence of his officers.</p>
<h2>RAILROAD INCIDENT.</h2>
<p>An Englishwoman who travelled some years ago in America
writes:&mdash;&ldquo;I had found it necessary to study
physiognomy since leaving England, and was horrified by the
appearance of my next neighbour.&nbsp; His forehead was low, his
deep-set and restless eyes significant of cunning, and I at once
set him down as a swindler or a pickpocket.&nbsp; My conviction
of the truth of my inference was so strong that I removed my
purse&mdash;in which, however, acting by advice, I never carried
more than five dollars&mdash;from my pocket, leaving in it only
my handkerchief and the checks for my baggage, knowing that I
could not possibly keep awake the whole morning.&nbsp; In spite
of my endeavours to <!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 215</span>the contrary, I soon sunk into an
oblivious state, from which I awoke to the consciousness that my
companion was withdrawing his hand from my pocket.&nbsp; My first
impulse was to make an exclamation; my second, which I carried
into execution, to ascertain my loss, which I found to be the
very alarming one of my baggage checks; my whole property being
thereby placed at this vagabond&rsquo;s disposal, for I knew
perfectly well that if I claimed my trunks without my checks the
acute baggage-master would have set me down as a bold
swindler.&nbsp; The keen-eyed conductor was not in the car, and,
had he been there, the necessity for habitual suspicion
incidental to his position would so far have removed his original
sentiments of generosity as to make him turn a deaf ear to my
request; and there was not one of my fellow-travellers whose
physiognomy would have warranted me in appealing to him.&nbsp;
So, recollecting that my checks were marked Chicago, and seeing
that the thief&rsquo;s ticket bore the same name, I resolved to
wait the chapter of accidents, or the reappearance of my
friends.&nbsp; With a whoop like an Indian war-whoop the cars ran
into a shed&mdash;they stopped&mdash;the pickpocket got
up&mdash;I got up too&mdash;the baggage-master came to the
door.&nbsp; &lsquo;This gentleman has the checks for my
baggage,&rsquo; said I, pointing to the thief.&nbsp; Bewildered,
he took them from his waistcoat pocket, gave them to the
baggage-master, and went hastily away.&nbsp; I had no inclination
to cry &lsquo;stop thief!&rsquo; and had barely time to
congratulate myself on the fortunate impulse which had led me to
say what I did, when my friends appeared from the next
carriage.&nbsp; They were too highly amused with my recital to
sympathize at all with my feelings of annoyance, and one of them,
a gentleman filling a high situation in the east, laughed
heartily, saying, in a thoroughly American tone, &lsquo;The
English ladies must be cute customers if they can outwit Yankee
pickpockets.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>NOVEL OBSTRUCTION.</h2>
<p>On a certain railroad in Louisiana the alligators have the bad
habit of crawling upon the track to sun themselves, and to such
an extent have they pushed this practice that the drivers of the
locomotives are frequently compelled to sound the engine whistle
in order to scare the interlopers away.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Railway News</i>,
1867.</p>
<h2><!-- page 216--><a name="page216"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 216</span>BABY LAW.</h2>
<p>The railways generously permit a baby to be carried without
charge; but not, it seems, without incurring
responsibility.&nbsp; It has been lately decided, in
&ldquo;Austin <i>v.</i> the Great Western Railway Company,&rdquo;
16 L. T. Rep., N. S., 320, that where a child in arms, not paid
for as a passenger, is injured by an accident caused by
negligence, the company is liable in damages under Lord
Campbell&rsquo;s Act.&nbsp; Three of the judges were clearly of
opinion that the company had, by permitting the mother to take
the child in her arms, contracted to carry safely both mother and
child; and Blackburn, J., went still further, and was of opinion
that, independently of any such contract, express or implied, the
law cast upon the company a duty to use proper and reasonable
care in carrying the child, though unpaid for.&nbsp; It may
appear somewhat hard upon railway companies to incur liabilities
through an act of liberality, but they have chosen to do
so.&nbsp; The law is against them, that is clear; but they have
the remedy in their own hands.&nbsp; There was some reason for
exempting a child in arms, for it occupies no place in the
carriage, and is but a trifling addition of weight.&nbsp; But now
it is established that the company is responsible for the
consequences of accident to that child, the company is clearly
entitled to make such a charge as will secure them against the
risk.&nbsp; The right course would be to have a tariff, say
one-fifth or one-fourth of the full fare, for a child in arms;
and if strict justice was done, this would be deducted from the
fares of the passengers who have the ill-luck to face and flank
the squaller.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Law Times</i>, 1867.</p>
<h2>RAILROAD TRACKLAYER.</h2>
<p>The railroad tracklayer is now working along regularly at the
rate of a mile a day.&nbsp; The machine is a car 60 feet long and
10 feet wide.&nbsp; It has a small engine on board for handling
the ties and rails.&nbsp; The ties are carried on a common
freight car behind, and conveyed by an endless chain over the top
of the machinery, laid down in their places on the track, and,
when enough are laid, a rail is put down on each side in proper
position and spiked down.&nbsp; <!-- page 217--><a
name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 217</span>The
tracklayer then advances, and keeps on its work until the load of
ties and rails is exhausted, when other car loads are
brought.&nbsp; The machine is driven ahead by a locomotive, and
the work is done so rapidly that 60 men are required to wait on
it, but they do more work than twice as many could do by the old
system, and the work is done quite as well.&nbsp; The chief
contractor of the road gives it as his opinion that when the
machine is improved by making a few changes in the method of
handling rails and ties it will be able to put down five or six
miles per day.&nbsp; This will render it possible to lay down
track twelve times as fast as the usual rate by hand, and it will
do the work at less expense.&nbsp; The invention will be of
immense importance to the country in connection with the Pacific
railroad, which it was calculated could be built as fast as the
track could be laid, and no faster; but hereafter the speed will
be determined by the grading, which cannot advance more than five
miles a day.&nbsp; Thirty millions of dollars have already been
invested on the Pacific railroad, and if the time of completion
is hastened one year by this tracklayer, as it will be if Central
and Union Companies have money enough to grade each five miles a
day, there will be a saving of three million dollars on interest
alone on that one road.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Alla California</i>,
1868.</p>
<h2>A GROWING LAD.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;This your boy, ma&rsquo;am?&rdquo; inquired a collector
of a country woman, &ldquo;he&rsquo;s too big for a &rsquo;alf
ticket.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, is he?&rdquo; replied the
mother.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, perhaps he is now, mister; but he
wasn&rsquo;t when he started.&nbsp; The train is ever so much
behind time&mdash;has been so long on the road&mdash;and
he&rsquo;s a growing lad!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>FORGED TICKETS.</h2>
<p>Attempts to defraud railway companies by means of forged
tickets are seldom made, and still more seldom successful.&nbsp;
In 1870, a man who lived in a toll-house near Dudley, and who
rented a large number of tolls on the different turnpikes, in
almost every part of the country, <!-- page 218--><a
name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 218</span>devised a
plan for travelling cheaply.&nbsp; He set up a complete fount of
type, composing stick, and every requisite for printing tickets,
and provided himself with coloured papers, colours, and paints to
paint them, and plain cards on which to paste them; and he
prepared tickets for journeys of great length, and available to
and from different stations on the London and North-Western,
Great Western, and Midland lines.&nbsp; On arriving one day at
the ticket platform at Derby, he presented a ticket from
Masbro&rsquo; to Smethwick.&nbsp; The collector, who had been
many years in the service of the company, thought there was
something unusual in the ticket.&nbsp; On examination he found it
to be a forgery, and when the train arrived at the platform gave
the passenger into custody.&nbsp; On searching his house, upwards
of a thousand railway tickets were discovered in a drawer in his
bedroom, and the apparatus with which the forgeries were
accomplished was also secured.&nbsp; On the prisoner himself was
the sum of &pound;199 10s., and it appeared that he came to be
present at the annual letting of the tolls on the different roads
leading out of Derby.&nbsp; The punishment he received was
sufficiently condign to serve as a warning to all who might be
inclined to emulate such attempts after cheap locomotion.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Williams&rsquo;s <i>Midland
Railway</i>.</p>
<h2>A YANKEE COMPENSATION CASE.</h2>
<p>A horny-handed old farmer entered the offices of one of the
railroad companies, and inquired for the man who settled for
hosses which was killed by locomotives.&nbsp; They referred him
to the company&rsquo;s counsel, whom, having found, he thus
addressed:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Mister, I was driving home one evening last
week&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Been drinking?&rdquo; sententiously questioned the
lawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m centre pole of the local Tent of
Rechabites,&rdquo; said the farmer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t answer my question,&rdquo; replied
the man of law; &ldquo;I saw a man who was drunk vote for the
prohibition ticket last year.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t tasted liquor since the big flood of
1846,&rdquo; said the old man.</p>
<p><!-- page 219--><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
219</span>&ldquo;Go ahead.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I will, &rsquo;Squire.&nbsp; And when I came to the
crossing of your line&mdash;it was pretty dark, and&mdash;zip!
along came your train, no bells rung, no whistles tooted,
contrary to the statutes in such cases made and provided,
and&mdash;whoop! away went my off-hoss over the telegraph
wires.&nbsp; When I had dug myself out&rsquo;n a swamp some
distance off and pacified the other critter, I found that thar
off-hoss was dead, nothing valuable about him but his shoes,
which mout have brought, say, a penny for old iron.&nbsp;
Well&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, you want pay for that &rsquo;ere off-hoss?&rdquo;
said the lawyer, with a scarcely repressed sneer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I should, you see,&rdquo; replied the farmer, frankly;
&ldquo;and I don&rsquo;t care about going to law about it, though
possibly I&rsquo;d get a verdict, for juries out in our town is
mostly made up of farmers, and they help each other as a matter
of principle in these cases of stock killed by
railroads.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;And this &rsquo;ere off-hoss,&rdquo; said the counsel,
mockingly, &ldquo;was well bred, wasn&rsquo;t he?&nbsp; He was
rising four years, as he had been several seasons past.&nbsp; And
you had been offered &pound;500 for him the day he was killed,
but wouldn&rsquo;t take it because you were going to win all the
prizes in the next race with him?&nbsp; Oh, I&rsquo;ve heard of
that off-horse before.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I guess there&rsquo;s a mistake somewhere,&rdquo; said
the old farmer, with an air of surprise; &ldquo;my hoss was got
by old man Butt&rsquo;s roan-pacing hoss, Pride of Lemont,
out&rsquo;n a wall-eyed no account mare of my own, and, now that
he&rsquo;s dead, I may say that he was twenty-nine next
grass.&nbsp; Trot?&nbsp; Why, Fred Erby&rsquo;s hoss that he was
fined for furious driving of was old Dexter alongside of
him!&nbsp; Five hundred pounds!&nbsp; Bless your soul, do you
think I&rsquo;m a fool, or anyone else?&nbsp; It is true I was
made an offer for him the last time I was in town, and, for the
man looked kinder simple, and you know how it is yourself with
hoss trading, I asked the cuss mor&rsquo;n the animal might have
been worth.&nbsp; I asked him forty pounds, but I&rsquo;d have
taken thirty.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Forty?&rdquo; gasped the lawyer;
&ldquo;forty?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the farmer, meekly and
apologetically; &ldquo;it kinder looks a big sum, I know, for an
old hoss; but that &rsquo;ere off-hoss could pull a mighty good
load, considering.&nbsp; Then I was kinder shook up, and the pole
of my waggon <!-- page 220--><a name="page220"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 220</span>was busted, and I had to get the
harness fixed, and there&rsquo;s my loss of time, and all that
counts.&nbsp; Say fifty pounds, and it&rsquo;s about
square.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The lawyer whispered softly to himself, &ldquo;Well,
I&rsquo;ll be hanged!&rdquo; and filled out a cheque for fifty
pounds.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said he, covering the old man&rsquo;s hand,
&ldquo;you are the first honest man I have met in the course of a
legal experience of twenty-three years; the first farmer whose
dead horse was worth less than a thousand pounds, and could trot
better without training.&nbsp; Here, also, is a free pass for
yourself and your male heirs in a direct line for three
generations; and if you have a young boy to spare we will teach
him telegraphing, and find him steady and lucrative
employment.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The honest old farmer took the cheque, and departed, smiting
his brawny leg with his horny hand in triumph as he did so, with
the remark&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I knew I&rsquo;d ketch him on the honest tack!&nbsp;
Last hoss I had killed I swore was a trotter, and all I got was
thirty pounds and interest.&nbsp; Honesty is the best
policy.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Once a Week</i>.</p>
<h2>ABERGELE ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>The Irish mail leaving London at shortly after seven A.M., it
was timed in 1868 to make the distance to Chester, one hundred
and sixty-six miles, in four hours and eighteen minutes; from
Chester to Holyhead is eighty-five miles, for running which the
space of one hundred and twenty-five minutes was allowed.&nbsp;
Abergele is a point on the seacoast in North Wales, nearly midway
between these two places.&nbsp; On the 20th of August, 1868, the
Irish mail left Chester as usual.&nbsp; It was made up of
thirteen carriages in all, which were occupied&mdash;as the
carriages of that train usually were&mdash;by a large number of
persons whose names, at least, were widely known.&nbsp; Among
these, on this particular occasion, were the Duchess of Abercorn,
wife of the then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, with five
children.&nbsp; Under the running arrangements of the London and
North-Western line a goods train left Chester half-an-hour before
the mail, and was placed upon the siding at Llanddulas, a station
about a mile-and-a-half beyond Abergele, to allow the mail <!--
page 221--><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
221</span>to pass.&nbsp; From Abergele to Llanddulas the track
ascended by a gradient of some sixty feet to the mile.&nbsp; On
the day of the accident it chanced that certain wagons between
the engine and the rear end of the goods train had to be taken
out to be left at Llanddulas, and, in doing this, it became
necessary to separate the train and to leave five or six of the
last wagons in it standing on the main line, while those which
were to be left were backed on to a siding.&nbsp; The
employ&eacute; whose duty it was to have done so, neglected to
set the brake on the wagons thus left standing, and consequently
when the engine and the rest of the train returned for them, the
moment they were touched, and before a coupling could be
effected, the jar set them in motion down the incline toward
Abergele.&nbsp; They started so slowly that a brakeman of the
train ran after them, fully expecting to catch and stop them, but
as they went down the grade they soon outstripped him, and it
became clear that there was nothing to check them until they
should meet the Irish mail, then almost due.&nbsp; It also
chanced that the wagons thus loosened were oil wagons.</p>
<p>The mail train was coming up the line at a speed of about
thirty miles an hour, when its engine-driver suddenly perceived
the loose wagons coming down upon it around the curve, and then
but a few yards off.&nbsp; Seeing that they were oil wagons, he
almost instinctively sprang from his engine, and was thrown down
by the impetus and rolled to the side of the road-bed.&nbsp;
Picking himself up, bruised but not seriously hurt, he saw that
the collision had already taken place, that the tender had ridden
directly over the engine, that the colliding wagons were
demolished, and that the front carriages of the train were
already on fire.&nbsp; Running quickly to the rear of the train,
he succeeded in uncoupling six carriages and a van, which were
drawn away from the rest before the flames extended to them by an
engine which most fortunately was following the train.&nbsp; All
the other carriages were utterly destroyed, and every person in
them perished.</p>
<p>The Abergele was probably a solitary instance, in the record
of railway accidents, in which but one single survivor sustained
any injury.&nbsp; There was no maiming.&nbsp; It was death or
entire escape.&nbsp; The collision was not a particularly <!--
page 222--><a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
222</span>severe one, and the engine driver of the mail train
especially stated that at the moment it occurred the loose wagons
were still moving so slowly that he would not have sprung from
his engine had he not seen that they were loaded with oil.&nbsp;
The very instant the collision took place, however, the fluid
seemed to ignite and to flash along the train like lightning, so
that it was impossible to approach a carriage when once it caught
fire.&nbsp; The fact was that the oil in vast quantities was
spilled upon the track and ignited by the fire of the locomotive,
and then the impetus of the mail train forced all of its leading
carriages into the dense mass of smoke and flame.&nbsp; All those
who were present concurred in positively stating that not a cry,
nor a moan, nor a sound of any description was heard from the
burning carriages, nor did any one in them apparently make an
effort to escape.</p>
<p>Though the collision took place before one o&rsquo;clock, in
spite of the efforts of a large gang of men who were kept
throwing water on the line, the perfect sea of flame which
covered the line for a distance of some forty or fifty yards
could not be extinguished until nearly eight o&rsquo;clock in the
evening, for the petroleum had flowed down into the ballasting of
the road, and the rails were red-hot.&nbsp; It was, therefore,
small occasion for surprise that when the fire was at last gotten
under, the remains of those who lost their lives were in some
cases wholly undistinguishable, and in others almost so.&nbsp;
Among the thirty-three victims of the disaster, the body of no
single one retained any traces of individuality; the faces of all
were wholly destroyed, and in no case were there found feet or
legs or anything approaching to a perfect head.&nbsp; Ten corpses
were finally identified as those of males, and thirteen as those
of females, while the sex of ten others could not be
determined.&nbsp; The body of one passenger, Lord Farnham, was
identified by the crest on his watch, and, indeed, no better
evidence of the wealth and social position of the victims of this
accident could have been asked for than the collection of
articles found on its site.&nbsp; It included diamonds of great
size and singular brilliancy; rubies, opals, emeralds; gold tops
of smelling bottles, twenty-four watches&mdash;of which but two
or three were not gold&mdash;chains, clasps of bags, and very
<!-- page 223--><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
223</span>many bundles of keys.&nbsp; Of these, the diamonds
alone had successfully resisted the intense heat of the flame;
the settings were nearly all destroyed.</p>
<h2>RAILWAY DESTROYERS IN THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR.</h2>
<p>One obvious means of hampering the military operations of the
Germans was the cutting of railroads, so as to interrupt and
overthrow on-coming trains.&nbsp; This method was resorted to by
bands of volunteers, calling themselves &ldquo;The Wild Boars of
Ardennes,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Railway Destroyers.&rdquo;&nbsp; Here
again the invaders incurred great odium by announcing that, on
the departure of a train in the disaffected districts, the mayor
and principal inhabitants should be made to take their places on
the engine, so that if the peasants chose to upset the
conveyance, their surest victims would be their own
compatriots.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Annual Register</i>,
1870.</p>
<h2>FRIGHTENED AT A RED LIGHT.</h2>
<p>A driver, not on duty, had been drinking, and was, in company
with his fireman, walking in the vicinity of the Edgware Road,
when he suddenly started violently, and seizing his mate&rsquo;s
arm, shouted&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hold hard, mate&mdash;hold hard!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; cried the fireman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Matter!&rdquo; roared the driver, &ldquo;why,
you&rsquo;re a-running by the red light;&rdquo; and he pointed to
the crimson glare which streamed through a glass bottle in a
chemist&rsquo;s window.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Come along; that&rsquo;s nothing,&rdquo; said the
fireman, trying to drag him on.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What, run by the red light, and go afore Dannel in the
morning?&rdquo; retorted the driver, and no persuasion could or
did get him to pass the shop.&nbsp; He was a Great Western man,
and the &ldquo;Dannel&rdquo; whom he held in such wholesome awe
was the celebrated engineer, now Sir Daniel Gooch, and chairman
of that line.&nbsp; He was then the locomotive chief, and
renowned above all other things for maintaining discipline among
his staff, while they cherished a feeling for him very much akin
to what we hear of the clannish enthusiasm of the ancient
Scotch.</p>
<h2><!-- page 224--><a name="page224"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 224</span>THE DECOY TRUNK.</h2>
<p>August 27, 1875.&nbsp; The Metropolitan magistrates have had
before them a case which seems likely to show how some, at least,
of the robberies at railway stations are accomplished.&nbsp; Some
ingenious persons, it appears, have devised a way by which a
trunk can be made to steal a trunk, and a portmanteau to annex a
portmanteau.&nbsp; The thieves lay a trunk artfully contrived on
a smaller trunk; the latter clings to the former, and the owner
of the larger carries both away.&nbsp; The decoy trunk is said to
be fitted with a false bottom, which goes up when it is laid on a
smaller trunk, and with mechanism inside which does for the
innocent trunk what Polonius recommended Laertes to do for his
friend, and grapples it to its heart with hooks of steel.&nbsp;
In fact, the decoy duck&mdash;we do not know how better to
describe it&mdash;is made to perform an office like that of
certain flowers, which suddenly close at the pressure of a fly or
other insect within their cup and imprison him there.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Annual Register</i>,
1875.</p>
<h2>DRIVING A LAST SPIKE.</h2>
<p>There are now two lines crossing the American continent.&nbsp;
The western section of the new route goes through on the
thirty-parallel&mdash;far enough south from the Rocky Mountains
for the current of the train&rsquo;s own motion to be acceptable
even in December, and to be a grateful relief in June.&nbsp;
Beginning at San Francisco, the additional line runs south
through California to Fort Yuma on the Colorado river; thence
along the southern border of the territories of Arizona and New
Mexico, and across the centre of Kansas, until it joins the lines
connecting the Southern States with New York.&nbsp; The
undertaking is a vast one, and has been one of some difficulty;
but its completion has been the occasion of very little
display.&nbsp; Never was a great project of any kind brought to a
successful result with so much of active work and so little of
actual talk.&nbsp; A cable message a line in length told the
story a month ago to European readers, and none of the American
papers appear to have dealt with the matter as anything out of
the ordinary run of daily events.</p>
<p><!-- page 225--><a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
225</span>Far otherwise was it with the finishing touch twelve
years ago to the other Transcontinental line.&nbsp; The whole
world heard of what was then done.&nbsp; All the bells in all the
great cities of the United States rang out jubilant peals as the
last stroke sent home the last spike on the last rail of the new
highway of travel.&nbsp; The news was flashed by telegraph
everywhere throughout the Union, and that there might be no delay
in its transmission and no hindrance to its simultaneous
reception, a certain pre-arranged signal was given and all the
wires were for the time being kept free of other business.&nbsp;
There were cases in which, to save time in ringing out the glad
news, the message was conveyed on special wires right up to the
bell towers; and everywhere there was a feeling that a great
victory had been won.&nbsp; Preceding the consummation, there had
been some wonderful feats in railroad construction.&nbsp; From
the Missouri river on the one side and from the Sacramento on the
other, the two companies&mdash;the Union Pacific and the Central
Pacific&mdash;advanced against each other in friendly
rivalry.&nbsp; The popular idea was that the length of the line
of each company would be measured to the point at which it joined
rails with the other.&nbsp; This was hardly the case; but an
arrangement was come to after the completion of the work which
has given this notion the strength of a tradition.&nbsp; The
greater part of the Union Pacific route was over comparatively
even ground, and it was not until the Salt Lake region was being
approached that any serious constructive difficulties presented
themselves.&nbsp; It was otherwise with the company advancing
eastward.&nbsp; The line had to be carried over the Sierra
Nevada, the ascent beginning almost from the starting point, and
rising seven thousand feet in a hundred miles.&nbsp; On the other
side of the mountain range, the descent was in turn
formidable.&nbsp; Over this part of the road it was impossible to
proceed rapidly.&nbsp; The work was surrounded with difficulties,
and there were competent engineers who had no confidence that it
could be carried out.&nbsp; Progress could only be made at the
outset at the rate of about twenty miles each year; but in this
slow work there was time to profit by experience, so that
eventually, when it became a question simply of many hands, the
platelayer went forward with the swing of an army on the
march.&nbsp; Then it was <!-- page 226--><a
name="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 226</span>that the
two companies went vigorously into the race of
construction.&nbsp; In one day, in 1868, the Union men were able
to inform the Central men by telegraph that they had laid as many
as six miles since morning.&nbsp; A few days afterwards the
response came from the Central men that they had just finished as
their day&rsquo;s work a stretch of seven miles.&nbsp; Spurred to
fresh activity by this display, the Union men next reported to
the other side a complete stretch for a day&rsquo;s work of seven
and a half miles!&nbsp; The answer came back in the extraordinary
announcement that the workers for the Central Company were
prepared to lay ten miles in one day!&nbsp; The Union people were
inclined to regard this as mere boasting, and the Vice-President
of the company implied as much when he made an offer to bet ten
thousand dollars that in one day such a stretch of railroad could
not be well and truly laid.&nbsp; It is not on record that the
bet was taken up.&nbsp; But the fact remains that it was made,
that the Central army of workers heard of it, and that they
determined to make good the pledge given in their name.&nbsp; So
a day was fixed for the attempt.&nbsp; From the Union side men
came to take note of the work and to measure it, and their
verdict at the close of the day&rsquo;s toil was that not only
had the promised ten miles been constructed, but that the
measurement showed two hundred feet over!&nbsp; And this, on the
words of an authority, is how it was done:&mdash;When the car
loaded with rails came to the end of the track, the two outer
rails on either side were seized with iron nippers, hauled
forward off the car, and laid on the ties by four men who
attended exclusively to this work.&nbsp; Over these rails the
cars were pushed forward and the process repeated.&nbsp; Then
came a gang of men who half-drove the spikes and screwed on the
fish-plates on the dropped rails.&nbsp; At a short interval
behind these came a gang of Chinamen, who drove home the spikes
already inserted and added the rest.&nbsp; A second squad of
Chinamen followed, two deep, on each side of the single track,
the inner men carrying shovels and the outer men wielding picks,
their duty being to ballast the track.&nbsp; Every movement was
thus carefully arranged, and there was no loss of time.&nbsp; The
average rate of speed at which the work was done was 1 min.
47&frac12; secs. to every 240 feet of perfected track.&nbsp;
There was, of course, an army of <!-- page 227--><a
name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>disciplined
helpers, whose duty it was to bring up the materials.&nbsp; In
this great feat of construction more than four thousand men found
employment in various capacities.&nbsp; When they had carried
their line four miles further east, the Central and the Union men
met each other, the point of connection being known as
Promontory.&nbsp; Afterwards the two companies made an
arrangement whereby the Union Pacific relinquished fifty-three
miles of road to the Central, thus fixing on Ogden as the western
terminus of the one line and the eastern terminus of the
other.&nbsp; The popular belief is that the fifty-three miles
were obtained by the Central Pacific directors as an
acknowledgement of the greater engineering difficulties they had
to overcome in laying their part of the track, and that they
served a handicapping purpose at the end of this wonderful
railroad competition.</p>
<p>The placing of the final tie on the Pacific lines, as has been
hinted, was a ceremonious undertaking.&nbsp; The event took place
on Monday, March 10th, 1869.&nbsp; Representatives were present
from almost every part of the Union, and the construction
parties, not yet wholly dispersed, made up a greater crowd than
had been seen at Promontory before or is likely ever to be seen
there again&mdash;for, with the fixing of the termini at another
point, the glory of the place has departed.&nbsp; The connecting
tie had been made of California laurel.&nbsp; It was beautifully
polished, and bore a series of inscribed silver plates.&nbsp; The
tie was carefully placed, and over it the rails were laid by
picked men on behalf of each company.&nbsp; The spikes were then
inserted&mdash;one of gold, silver, and iron, from Arizona;
another of silver, from Nevada; and a third of gold, from
California.&nbsp; President Stanford, of the Central Pacific,
armed with a hammer of solid silver, drove the last spike, the
blow falling precisely at noon, and the news of the completion of
the road being flashed abroad as it fell.&nbsp; Then the two
locomotives, one from the west and the other from the east, drew
up to each other on the single line, coming into gentle
collision, that they in their way, in the pleasing conceit of
their drivers, might symbolise the fraternisation that went
on.&nbsp; It does not spoil the story of the ceremony to state
that the laurel tie, with its inscriptions and its magnificent
mountings, <!-- page 228--><a name="page228"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 228</span>was only formally laid, and that it
became from that day a relic to be officially cherished; and it
should be added that the more serviceable tie which replaced it
was cut into fragments by men eager to have some memento of the
occasion.&nbsp; Other ties for a time shared the same fate, until
splinters of what was claimed to be &ldquo;the last tie
laid&rdquo; became as common as pieces of the Wellington boots
the great commander is said to have left behind him at
Waterloo.</p>
<p>With the junction of the two lines, it became possible to make
safely in one week an overland journey that not many years before
required months in its execution, and was attended by many
hardships and dangers.&nbsp; It was, however, a route better
known even in the days when the legend of the pilgrims over it
was &ldquo;Pike&rsquo;s Peak or bust!&rdquo; than is the region
crossed by the new southern line.&nbsp; This line opens up what
is practically an undiscovered and an unsettled country, but the
region traversed has been ascertained to be so rich in resources
as to fully justify the heavy expenditure involved in the
construction of the line.&nbsp; In another year the line will
become a powerful agent in the development of the Union, for it
will then be connected with the lines that run through Texas into
Louisiana, and New Orleans and San Francisco will be brought into
direct communication with each other.&nbsp; This, in fact, has
been a prominent object in the undertaking.&nbsp; The effect of
it will be to cheapen the tariff on goods from the Pacific Coast
to Europe, and will, it is believed, have the effect of
controlling a large share of the Asiatic trade.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Leeds Mercury</i>, April
23rd, 1881.</p>
<h2>MARRIAGE AND RAILWAY DIVIDENDS.</h2>
<p>Marriage would not seem to have any close connection with
railroad traffic, but we find an officer of an East Indian
railroad company explaining a falling off in the passenger
receipts of the year (1874) by the fact that it was a
&ldquo;twelfth year,&rdquo; which is regarded by the Hindoos as
so unfavourable to marriage that no one, or scarcely any one, is
married.&nbsp; And, as weddings are the great occasions in Hindoo
life when there is great pomp and a general gathering together of
friends, they cause a great deal of travelling.</p>
<h2><!-- page 229--><a name="page229"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 229</span>SECURITY FOR TRAVELLING.</h2>
<p>A civil engineer, of long experience in connection with
railways, gives some reassuring statements as to the precautions
taken in keeping the lines in order.&nbsp; The majority of
accidents occur, not from defects in the line, but from
imperfections in the living agents who have charge of the signals
and other arrangements of trains in transit.&nbsp; The engineer
says:&mdash;&ldquo;To begin at the bottom, we have the ganger of
the &lsquo;beat,&rsquo; a man selected from the waymen after
several years&rsquo; service for his aptitude and steadiness,
whose duty it is to patrol his length of two or three miles every
morning, and to make good fastenings, etc., afterwards
superintending his gang in packing, replacing rails, sleepers,
and other necessary repairs.&nbsp; Over the ganger is the
inspector of permanent way, responsible for the gangers doing
their duty, who generally goes over all his district once a day
on the engine, and walks one or more gangers&rsquo; beats.&nbsp;
The inspectors, again, are under the district superintendent or
engineer, who makes frequent inspections both by walking and on
the engine.&nbsp; The ganger, if in want of men or materials,
reports to his inspector, who, if they are required, sends a
requisition to the engineer, keeping a small stock at his
head-quarters to supply urgent demands.&nbsp; The engineer in his
turn keeps the whole in harmony, sanctioning the employment of
the necessary men, and ordering the materials, the only check
upon the number of men or quantity of materials being the total
half-yearly expenditure.&nbsp; Directors never within my
experience grudge an outlay necessary to keep the line in good
order; but, should they limit the expenditure from financial
motives, it would then clearly be the duty of the engineer to
recommend a reduction of speed to a safe point.&nbsp;
Occasionally, idle gangers are met with, who are always asking
for more men, and as naturally meeting with refusal.</p>
<h2>THE NUMBER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY.</h2>
<p>Lord Lymington, M.P., relates the following amusing tale of
his experience with an inquiring and hospitable gentleman in
Arkansas:&mdash;&ldquo;He introduced himself to me very kindly on
learning that I was a traveller and an Englishman, <!-- page
230--><a name="page230"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
230</span>and offered me the hospitalities of the town.&nbsp; It
was very obliging of him, but unfortunately I could not stay, so
we had a chat while I was waiting for the train.&nbsp; During
this chat his eye fell on a portmanteau of mine which I had
caused to be marked, for convenience sake and easy
identification, with the cabalistic figures 120.&nbsp; This he
scanned for some time with ill-concealed curiosity, and finally,
turning to me, said rather abruptly, &lsquo;If I am not mistaken,
you are a nobleman, are you not?&rsquo;&nbsp; I admitted that
such was my unhappy lot.&nbsp; &lsquo;Then,&rsquo; he said,
&lsquo;I presume that number there on your valise is what they
call in the nobility armorial bearings, is it not&mdash;in fact,
your crest?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Hardly that,&rsquo; I modestly
replied.&nbsp; &lsquo;A number is only borne as a crest, I
believe, by much more illustrious persons&mdash;for example, the
Beast in the Apocalypse.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Oh!&rsquo; he
replied, and then, after meditating a moment or two, asked,
&lsquo;Have your family been long in England?&rsquo;&nbsp;
&lsquo;Yes,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;they have been there for some
time.&nbsp; But why do you ask?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Perhaps the
number refers,&rsquo; he replied, &lsquo;to the number of
generations, just as they recite them in the Old Testament, you
know?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Yes,&rsquo; I unhesitatingly and with
prompt mendacity replied, &lsquo;that is exactly it, and I
don&rsquo;t see how you hit it so cleverly.&rsquo;&nbsp; He
smiled all over with delight as the train rushed up, and waved
kind farewells to me as long as we were in sight.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>ENGINE DRIVING.</h2>
<p>But the regulator once in his hand, the engine-driver has only
begun his experience.&nbsp; He goes through an apprenticeship
with different varieties of engines.&nbsp; He must pick up what
knowledge he can himself, and he must always be on the alert to
benefit from the experience of others.&nbsp; The locomotive in
its varying &ldquo;moods&rdquo; must be his constant study, and
he must work it so that he shall not infringe more than an
average share of a multiplicity of rules and regulations.&nbsp;
The best position in the service, apart from that of
superintendence, is in the driving of an express engine, and the
greatest honour that can be conferred on an engine-driver is to
select him to take charge of the locomotive on a Royal
train.&nbsp; Only the best men are picked out to drive the Queen,
and the best engine on the road is <!-- page 231--><a
name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 231</span>detailed
for the Royal service; and although on those occasions railway
officials, who are the superiors of the driver, get on the
foot-boards, the latter is for the time being master of the
situation.&nbsp; Should the locomotive superintendent dictate to
him, it would be to confess that the driver was unworthy of his
high trust, and so the superintendent is content to look on; but
it is the contentment born of the conviction that he has chosen
for the task a driver whose experience is great, and whose
watchfulness and care and knowledge of enginery have given him a
claim to the chief service his company has for him.&nbsp; Not
that there is any more risk in running the Queen&rsquo;s train
than in running an ordinary passenger express.&nbsp; In fact, the
risk is reduced to a minimum.&nbsp; A pilot engine has gone
before to keep the way clear.&nbsp; The pilot engine is fifteen
minutes in advance of the Royal carriages at every station, and
the space travelled over in that fifteen minutes is kept free and
unobstructed.&nbsp; The speed of the train is carefully
regulated, and amongst other provisions for security the siding
points are for the moment spiked.&nbsp; Every crossing gate is
guarded from the time of the passage of the advance engine until
the train follows in its wake.&nbsp; Everything is done to make
the Royal journey over a railroad a safe one.&nbsp; Such
arrangements, however, if they add to the responsibility,
heighten also the pride a man feels in being the Queen&rsquo;s
driver.</p>
<p>So far as the companies are concerned, it may be said that
there is a fair field and no favour all the way from the fire-box
in the cleaning-shed up to the footboard on the locomotive that
takes Her Majesty from Windsor to Ballater.&nbsp; Promotion comes
practically as a result of competitive examination.&nbsp; The
mistake of a weak appointment is soon rectified, and the
precautions taken to test a man&rsquo;s capacity in one grade
before raising him to another are an absolute barrier to
incompetence.&nbsp; But there are circumstances under which a
man&rsquo;s chances are weakened.&nbsp; His responsibilities make
him liable for the faults of others, and mistakes of this kind go
to his discredit.&nbsp; Then if he is not companionable, or is
over-confident, tricks may be played which will prevent his going
forward as rapidly as he otherwise would.&nbsp; Mr. Reynolds
tells the story of a <!-- page 232--><a name="page232"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 232</span>driver who had come to a dead stop
on a journey because he was short of steam.&nbsp; The cause was a
mystery.&nbsp; There appeared to be nothing wrong with the engine
or the fire, and apparently the boiler was also in trim.&nbsp; It
was eventually found that some one had put soft soap in the
tender, and the water there being hot, the soap was gradually
dissolved and introduced into the boiler, with the result that
the grease covered the tubes, and together with the suds
prevented the transmission of heat to the water.&nbsp; An enemy
had done this, but under the rules the driver was responsible for
his engine, and he was suspended; only, however, to be reinstated
when once the mischief was traced to the perpetrator.&nbsp; Even
an act which to the ordinary spectator is a marvellous example of
presence of mind may, interpreted by the company&rsquo;s rules,
be an offence on the part of the engine-driver.&nbsp; An engine
attached to a train broke from the tender in the course of its
journey, and became separated.&nbsp; Noticing the mishap, the
driver slackened speed, allowed the tender and carriages to come
up, and while the train was still in motion he and the fireman
adroitly secured the runaway, and no harm was done.&nbsp; The men
interested did not think it advisable to report the
occurrence.&nbsp; But the clever management of the engine had
been noticed by a peasant in a field, and Hodge, in his
wonderment, began to talk about the affair all round the
country-side.&nbsp; Then the story found its way to a station
master, and thence to headquarters, and an inquiry brought the
matter to light, and ended in the two men being advised not to do
the same thing again.&nbsp; It was held that under the
circumstances the train should have been stopped.</p>
<h2>ENGINE DRIVERS&rsquo; PRESENCE OF MIND.</h2>
<p>An able writer upon railway topics remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;I
have alluded to a driver&rsquo;s coolness and resolution in an
accident, but no chronicle ever has or ever will be written which
will tell one tithe of the accidents which the courage and
presence of mind of these men have averted.&nbsp; A railway ran
over a river&mdash;indeed, it might be called an arm of the sea:
as it was the inlet to an important harbour, provision was
obliged to be made for the shipping, and so the piece of line
which crossed the water, at a height of seventy feet, was, in
fact, <!-- page 233--><a name="page233"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 233</span>a bridge which swung round when
large vessels had to pass.&nbsp; I need hardly say that such a
point was carefully guarded.&nbsp; At each end, at a fitting
distance, a man was placed specially to indicate whether the
bridge was open or shut.&nbsp; One day, as the express was
tearing along on its up journey, the driver received the usual
&lsquo;all right&rsquo; signal; but to his horror, on coming in
full sight of the bridge, he found it was wide open, and a gulf
of fatal depth yawning before him.&nbsp; He sounded his
brake-whistle, that deep-toned scream which signals the guard,
and he and his fireman held on, as before described, to the brake
and regulator.&nbsp; The speed of the train was, of course,
checked; but so short was the interval, so great had been the
impetus, that it seemed almost impossible to prevent the whole
train from going over into the chasm.&nbsp; Had the rails been in
the least degree slippery, any of the brakes out of order, or the
driver less determined, there would then have occurred the most
fearful railway accident ever known in England; but by dint of
quick decision and cool courage the danger was averted; the train
was brought to a standstill when the buffers of the engine
absolutely and literally overhung the chasm.&nbsp; Three yards
more, and a different result might have had to be chronicled.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Some of my readers may remember an incident in railway
history which dates back to our first great Exhibition.&nbsp; I
mention it here for its singularity, and for my having known the
driver whose coolness was so marked.&nbsp; In ascending a very
long gradient, the hindmost carriages of the train snapped their
couplings when at the top; the engine rattled on with the
remainder, while these ran down the slope, which was several
miles in length, with a velocity which, of course, increased
every moment.&nbsp; To make matters worse, the next train on the
same line was comparatively close behind, and, in fact, shortly
came in sight.&nbsp; The driver of this second train, a watchful
and experienced hand, saw the carriages rushing towards him, and
divined that they were on the same line.&nbsp; If he continued
steaming on, of course, in a couple of minutes he would come into
direct collision with them, while, on the other hand, if he ran
back, the carriages would probably gather such way that they
would leap from the bank.&nbsp; So, with great presence <!-- page
234--><a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>of
mind and wonderful judgment of speed, he ran back at a pace not
quite as fast as the carriages were approaching, so that
eventually they overtook him, and struck his moving engine with a
blow that was scarcely more perceptible than the jar usually
communicated by coupling on a fresh carriage.&nbsp; When this was
done, all the rest was easy; he resumed his down journey, and
pushed the frightened passengers safely before him until they
reached their destination, where the officials, as may readily be
supposed, were in a state of frantic despair at the loss of half
the train.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A SMUGGLING LOCOMOTIVE.</h2>
<p>A singular adaptation of the locomotive has just been made in
Russia.&nbsp; Information having been given to the authorities at
Alexandrovo, on the Polish frontier, that the locomotive of the
express leaving that station for Warsaw had been ingeniously
converted into a receptacle for smuggled goods, it was carefully
examined during its sojourn at the station.&nbsp; Though nothing
was found wrong, it was deemed advisable that a custom-house
official should accompany the train to its destination, when the
engine furnace and boiler were emptied and deliberately taken to
pieces.&nbsp; In the interior was discovered a secret compartment
containing one hundred and twenty-three pounds of foreign cigars
and several parcels of valuable silk.&nbsp; Several arrests were
made, including that of the driver; but his astonishment at
finding the engine to which he had been so long accustomed
converted into a hardened offender against the laws was so
genuine that he was released and allowed to return to his
duties.</p>
<h2>THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY.</h2>
<p>An English lady accustomed to travelling abroad, and able to
converse fluently in the languages of the countries she visited,
recently found herself alone in a railway carriage in Germany,
when two foreigners entered with pipes in their mouths, smoking
strong tobacco furiously.&nbsp; She quietly told them in their
own language that it was not a smoking carriage, but they
persisted in continuing to <!-- page 235--><a
name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 235</span>smoke,
remarking that it was &ldquo;the custom of the country,&rdquo;
upon which the lady took from her pocket a pair of gloves and
commenced cleaning them with benzoline.&nbsp; Her
fellow-passengers expressed their disgust at the nauseous
effluvium, when she remarked that it was the custom of her
country.&nbsp; She was soon left in the sole possession of the
carriage.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Truth</i>.</p>
<h2>AN INSULTED WOMAN.</h2>
<p>Mark Twain in his interesting work &ldquo;A Tramp
Abroad,&rdquo; thus refers to a railroad
incident:&mdash;&ldquo;We left Turin at 10 the next morning by a
railway, which was profusely decorated with tunnels.&nbsp; We
forgot to take a lantern along, consequently we missed all the
scenery.&nbsp; Our compartment was full.&nbsp; A ponderous,
tow-headed, Swiss woman, who put on many fine-lady airs, but was
evidently more used to washing linen than wearing it, sat in a
corner seat and put her legs across into the opposite one,
propping them intermediately with her up-ended valise.&nbsp; In
the seat thus pirated sat two Americans, greatly incommoded by
that woman&rsquo;s majestic coffin-clad feet.&nbsp; One of them
begged her, politely, to remove them.&nbsp; She opened her wide
eyes and gave him a stare, but answered nothing.&nbsp; By-and-by
he preferred his request again, with great respectfulness.&nbsp;
She said, in good English, and in a deeply offended tone, that
she had paid her passage and was not going to be bullied out of
her &lsquo;rights&rsquo; by ill-bred foreigners, even if she
<i>was</i> alone and unprotected.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But I have rights also, madam.&nbsp; My ticket
entitles me to a seat, but you are occupying half of
it.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I will not talk with you, sir.&nbsp; What right
have you to speak to me?&nbsp; I do not know you.&nbsp; One would
know that you come from a land where there are no
gentlemen.&nbsp; No <i>gentleman</i> would treat a lady as you
have treated me.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I come from a land where a lady would hardly
give me the same provocation.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You have insulted me, sir!&nbsp; You have
intimated that I am not a lady&mdash;and I hope I am <i>not</i>
one, after the pattern of your country.&rsquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 236--><a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
236</span>&ldquo;&lsquo;I beg that you will give yourself no
alarm on that head, madam but at the same time I must
insist&mdash;always respectfully&mdash;that you let me have my
seat.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Here the fragile laundress burst into tears and
sobs.</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I never was so insulted before!&nbsp; Never,
never!&nbsp; It is shameful, it is brutal, it is base, to bully
and abuse an unprotected lady who has lost the use of her limbs
and cannot put her feet to the floor without agony!&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Good heavens, madam, why didn&rsquo;t you say
that at first!&nbsp; I offer a thousand pardons.&nbsp; And I
offer them most sincerely.&nbsp; I did not know&mdash;I
<i>could</i> not know&mdash;that anything was the matter.&nbsp;
You are most welcome to the seat, and would have been from the
first if I had only known.&nbsp; I am truly sorry it all
happened, I do assure you.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;But he couldn&rsquo;t get a word of forgiveness out of
her.&nbsp; She simply sobbed and snuffled in a subdued but wholly
unappeasable way for two long hours, meantime crowding the man
more than ever with her undertaker-furniture, and paying no sort
of attention to his frequent and humble little efforts to do
something for her comfort.&nbsp; Then the train halted at the
Italian line, and she hopped up and marched out of the car with
as firm a leg as any washerwoman of all her tribe!&nbsp; And how
sick I was to see how she had fooled me!&rdquo;</p>
<h2>DISSATISFIED PASSENGERS.</h2>
<p>Any one wanting a fair and yet amusing account of what really
occurs to a person travelling in America should read G. A.
Sala&rsquo;s book called <i>America Revisited</i>.&nbsp; He
speaks of a gentleman from the Eastern States whom he met in the
train across the continent, and who thus held forth upon the
difference between reality and guide-books:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;There ain&rsquo;t no bottling up of things about
me.&nbsp; This overland journey&rsquo;s a fraud, and you oughter
know it.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t tell me.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s a
fraud.&nbsp; This Ring must be busted up.&nbsp; Where are your
buffalers?&nbsp; Perhaps you&rsquo;ll tell me that them cows is
buffalers.&nbsp; They ain&rsquo;t.&nbsp; Where are your prairie
dogs?&nbsp; They ain&rsquo;t dogs to begin with, they&rsquo;re
squirrels.&nbsp; Ain&rsquo;t you ashamed to call the mean little
cusses dogs?&nbsp; But where are they?&nbsp; There ain&rsquo;t
none.&nbsp; Where are your grizzlies?&nbsp; You might have
imported a few grizzlies <!-- page 237--><a
name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 237</span>to keep up
the name of your railroad.&nbsp; Where are your herds of
antelopes scudding before the advancing train?&nbsp; Nary an
antelope have you got for to scud.&nbsp; Rocky Mountains,
sir?&nbsp; They ain&rsquo;t rocky at all&mdash;they&rsquo;re as
flat as my hand.&nbsp; Where are your savage gorges?&nbsp; I
can&rsquo;t see none.&nbsp; Where are your wild injuns?&nbsp; Do
you call them loafing tramps in dirty blankets, injuns?&nbsp; My
belief is that they are greasers looking out for an engagement as
song and dance men.&nbsp; They&rsquo;re &lsquo;beats,&rsquo; sir,
&lsquo;dead beats,&rsquo; they&rsquo;re &lsquo;pudcocks,&rsquo;
and you oughter be told so.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Another passenger in the train with Mr. Sala was of a poetic
mind, and he softly sang to himself during the whole journey over
the Rocky Mountains the following effusion:&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Beautiful
snow,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Beautiful snow,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; B-e-e-e-eautiful snow,<br />
How I&rsquo;d like to have a revolver and go<br />
For the beast that wrote about beautiful snow.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>COPY OF A NOTICE.</h2>
<p>The following is a verbatim copy of a notice exhibited at
Welsh railway station.&nbsp; It is, perhaps, only a little more
incomprehensible than Bradshaw.&nbsp; &ldquo;List of Booking: You
passengers must careful.&nbsp; For have them level money for
ticket and to apply at once for asking tickets when will booking
window open.&nbsp; No tickets to have after the departure of the
trains.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>SNOWED UP ON THE PACIFIC RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>A writer in the <i>Leisure Hour</i> remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;It
is no joke when a town like New York or London is blocked up for
a few hours by snow.&nbsp; Both labour and capital have then to
submit to a strike from nature; but it is a more serious matter
when a man is snowed up in the middle of the Pacific
Railway.&nbsp; He is not then kept at home, but kept away from
it; he is not in the midst of comforts, but most unpleasantly out
of their reach.&nbsp; He may, too, have to endure his privations
and annoyances for a week, or even a month. . .&nbsp; Avalanches,
in spite of snow-sheds and galleries, spring into ravines which
the trains have to cross. . . .&nbsp; It was, however, with some
little alarm <!-- page 238--><a name="page238"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 238</span>that the writer found himself
caverned for a considerable time under one of these dark
snow-sheds.&nbsp; The difficulty of running through the snow
impediments had so exhausted the fuel that it was necessary to go
to a wood-station in the mountains.&nbsp; As it was the favourite
resort of avalanches, the prudent conductor of our train directed
the pilot to back the carriages into a snow-shed, and then be off
the more quickly with engine and tender for a supply of
fuel.&nbsp; It was bitterly cold and in the dead of night.&nbsp;
The snow was piled up around the gallery, and had in many places
penetrated through the crevices.&nbsp; The silence was
profound.&nbsp; The sense of utter loneliness and desolation was
complete.&nbsp; The return of the engine after a lengthened
absence was a relief, like the spring sun following an arctic
winter.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The first parties snowed up were wholly
unprepared.&nbsp; They had had their dollar meal at the last
station, and were far enough from the next when fixed in the
bank.&nbsp; It was, however, a rare harvest for the nearest
store.&nbsp; The necessity of some was the opportunity of
others.&nbsp; Food of inferior quality brought fabulous
prices.&nbsp; A dispute, involving a heavy wager, arose about one
article of fare.&nbsp; Was it antelope or not?&nbsp; The vendor
admitted that a very lean old cow had been sacrificed on the
pressing occasion.</p>
<p>&ldquo;For a little while some fun was got out of the trouble
of snowed-up trains.&nbsp; Delicate attentions were tendered by
gentlemen as cooks&rsquo; mates to the ladies.&nbsp; Oyster-cans
were converted into culinary utensils, and telegraph wire proved
excellent material for gridirons.&nbsp; Many a joke was passed in
the train kitchen, and hearty was the appetite for the rude
viands thus rudely dressed.&nbsp; But when the food grew more
difficult to obtain, and the wood supply became less and less,
the mirth was considerably slackened.&nbsp; It is true that
despatches were sent off for help, and cargoes of provisions were
steamed up as near as the snow would permit; but it was hard work
to carry over the snow, and insufficient was the supply.&nbsp;
Frightful growlings arose from the men and sad lamentations from
the women.&nbsp; Short allowance of food, with intense cold,
could not be positively enjoyed any time; but to be cooped up
within snow walls in such a desolate region, far from expecting
friends or urgent business, was most annoying.&nbsp; One spoke of
absolute <!-- page 239--><a name="page239"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 239</span>necessity to be at his office within
the week, as heavy bills had to be prepared for.&nbsp; Another
was going about an important speculation, which would utterly
break down if he were detained three days.&nbsp; Alas! he was
there above three weeks.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The sorrows of the heart were worse.&nbsp; A mother was
there hastening to nurse a sick daughter.&nbsp; A father had been
summoned to the dying bed of his son.&nbsp; A husband was hoping
to clasp again a wife from whom a long voyage had separated
him.&nbsp; One poor fellow was an especial object of
sympathy.&nbsp; He was hastening to an anxiously waiting
bride.&nbsp; He had to cool the ardour of his passion in the
snow-bound car, and pass the day appointed for his wedding in
shivering reflections.&nbsp; In one of the snow depths was
detained an interesting couple who had casually met on the
western side and were obeying the mandate of the heart and of
friends in proceeding to the east to effect their happy
union.&nbsp; The three weeks they were compelled to pass
together, under these cold and trying circumstances, must have
given them a famous insight into each other&rsquo;s character,
and this before the knot was tied.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The story is told of one resolute man who, though but
newly married, had been compelled to take a business
journey.&nbsp; He was most impatient to return home, and was
awhile confounded with his unfortunate imprisonment.&nbsp; When
he found that little chance existed for an early escape, his
heart prompted him to a bold enterprise.&nbsp; He was still two
hundred miles from home.&nbsp; He had no guide before him but the
telegraph posts.&nbsp; He could expect little provision on the
way, as the stations were frozen up; but, sustained by conjugal
affection, the good fellow set off on his lonely walk over the
snow.&nbsp; Notwithstanding terrible sufferings, and some free
fighting with wolves, he did his march in five days only.&nbsp;
What a greeting he deserved!</p>
<p>&ldquo;Those who had not his courage and strength were
compelled to endure the cars.&nbsp; Americans are not folks to
whine about a trouble; they succeed so often that their faith is
strong.&nbsp; Though the most luxurious of people, the
men&mdash;and the women too&mdash;can bear reverses nobly.&nbsp;
But they never dream of Oriental submissiveness.&nbsp; They
struggle hard to rise, and make the best of things till a change
comes.&nbsp; <!-- page 240--><a name="page240"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 240</span>So with those in the cars.&nbsp;
They soon found amusements; they chatted and laughed, played
games and sang; the best jokes were recollected and repeated, and
the liveliest tales were told; charades were acted; a judge and
jury scene afforded much amusement; lectures were given to
approving assemblies.&nbsp; The Sundays were decently observed,
and services were held morning and evening; reading was dispensed
with, and the sermons were extempore perforce.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The worst part of their sufferings came when for
forty-eight hours they were under a snow-shed without light, and
with the stoves empty.&nbsp; As, for the maintenance of warmth,
every crevice in the cars was stopped, the misery of close and
unwholesome atmosphere was added to their sorrows.&nbsp; The
writer, as an old traveller, has had some experience of odd
sleeping dens, and has been obliged at times to inhale a
pestiferous air, though he has never endured so much from this
discomfort as in his winter passage on the Pacific Railway.&nbsp;
For hours in the long nights, as well as in the day, he preferred
standing outside on the platform, with the thermometer from
fifteen to twenty-five below zero, rather than encounter the foul
atmosphere and stifling heat within.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Meanwhile the brave Chinamen were summoned to the
rescue.&nbsp; They are capital fellows to withstand the cold, and
work with a will to clear a passage.&nbsp; For a distance of two
hundred miles the blockade existed, and several trains were thus
caught on the way.&nbsp; Eight hundred freight wagons were
detained at Cheyenne.&nbsp; At one period the cold was 30&deg;
below zero.&nbsp; The worst part of the road was toward Sherman,
8,252 feet above the sea.&nbsp; Wyoming and West Nebraska were
the coldest regions.</p>
<p>&ldquo;In this great blockade, strange to say, the mortality
was but small.&nbsp; Three died during the imprisonment, and two
in consequence of cold.&nbsp; But an interesting compensation was
made, for five births took place in this season of trial.&nbsp;
The principal sufferers were those in the second-class
carriages.&nbsp; Room, however, was made for the more delicate in
the already crowded first-class cars.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 241--><a name="page241"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 241</span>A SELL.</h2>
<p>The <i>Indianapolis News</i> is responsible for the following
story.&nbsp; A railroad official of Indianapolis had, among other
passes, one purporting to carry him freely over the Warren and
Tonawanda Narrow-Gauge Railway.&nbsp; Happening to be near
Warren, he thought he would use this pass.&nbsp; Now, it appears
that some enterprising citizens of Pennsylvania once proposed to
lay a pipe-line for petroleum between Warren and Tonawanda.&nbsp;
The Legislature having refused to sanction their scheme, they
&ldquo;engineered&rdquo; a bill for building a narrow-gauge line,
which passed, the oil capitalists not conceiving that they had
any interest in opposing it.&nbsp; It is needless to say the
narrow-gauge line was the &ldquo;desiderated
pipe-line.&rdquo;&nbsp; The enterprising citizens carried their
joke so far as to issue annual passes over the road, receiving
others in return.&nbsp; When the traveller sought for the Warren
station on this line he found a chimney, and for the narrow-gauge
an iron-lined hole in the ground.&nbsp; It is hardly surprising
that now he is moved to anger at the slightest reference to the
&ldquo;Warren and Tonawanda Narrow Gauge.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AT FAULT.</h2>
<p>It is rather a serious matter that our public companies, and
especially our railway companies, are doing their best to degrade
our language.&nbsp; I am not going to be squeamish and object
strongly to the use of the word <i>Metropolitan</i>, though I
think it indefensible.&nbsp; Still, it is too bad of them to
persist in using the word <i>bye-laws</i> for
<i>by-laws</i>&mdash;so establishing solidly a shocking
error.&nbsp; The word <i>bye</i> has no existence in England
except as short for <i>be with you</i>, in the phrase
<i>Good-bye</i>.&nbsp; The so called by-laws are simple laws by
the other laws, and have nothing to do with any form of
salutation.&nbsp; In a bill of the Great Western Railway I find
the announcement that tickets obtained in London on any day from
December 20th to 24th will be available for use on <i>either</i>
of those days&mdash;this <i>either</i> meaning the five days from
the 20th December to the 24th inclusive.&nbsp; Either of
five!&nbsp; After this I am not surprised that, in a contribution
of my own to a daily paper, the editor gravely altered the <!--
page 242--><a name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
242</span>phrase <i>the last-named</i>, applied to one of three
people, to <i>latter</i>.&nbsp; In a railway advertisement I read
a day or two ago, &ldquo;From whence.&rdquo;&nbsp; Now, what is
the good of such fine words as <i>whence</i> and <i>thence</i> if
they are thus to be ill-used?&nbsp; Surely the railway companies
might have some one capable of seeing that their grammar has some
pretence to correctness.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Gentleman&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>A WIDOW&rsquo;S CLAIM FOR COMPENSATION.</h2>
<p>Some time ago a railway collision on one of the roads leading
out of New York killed, among others, a passenger living in an
interior town.&nbsp; His remains were sent home, and a few days
after the funeral the attorney of the road called upon the widow
to effect a settlement.&nbsp; She placed her figures at twenty
thousand dollars.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh! that sum is
unreasonable,&rdquo; replied the attorney.&nbsp; &ldquo;Your
husband was nearly fifty years old.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes,
sir.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;And lame?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;And his general health was
poor?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Quite poor.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;And he
probably would not have lived over five years?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Probably not, sir.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Then it seems to me
that two or three thousand dollars would be a fair
compensation.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Two or three thousand!&rdquo;
she echoed.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, sir, I courted that man for ten
years, run after him for ten more, and then had to chase him down
with a shotgun to get him before a preacher!&nbsp; Do you suppose
that I&rsquo;m going to settle for the bare cost of shoe leather
and ammunition?&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE LADY AND HER LAP-DOG.</h2>
<p>The following scene occurred at the high-level Crystal Palace
line:&mdash;&ldquo;A newspaper correspondent was amused at the
indignation of a lady against the porters who interfered to
prevent her taking her dog into the carriage.&nbsp; The lady
argued that Parliament had compelled the companies to find
separate carriages for smokers, and they ought to be further
compelled to have a separate carriage for ladies with lap-dogs,
and it was perfectly scandalous that they should be separated,
and a valuable dog, worth perhaps thirty or forty guineas, should
be put into a dog compartment.&nbsp; <!-- page 243--><a
name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 243</span>I have some
of the B stock of the railway, upon which not a penny has ever
been paid, and I could not help comparing my experience of this
particular line of railway with that of my fellow-traveller, and
wondering what sort of a train that would be which would provide
accommodation for all the wants and wishes of railway
travellers.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>WHAT IS PASSENGERS&rsquo; LUGGAGE?</h2>
<p>A gentleman removing took with him on the Great Western
railway articles consisting of six pairs of blankets, six pairs
of sheets, and six counterpanes, valued at &pound;16, belonging
to his household furniture.&nbsp; They were in a box, which was
put in the luggage van and lost.&nbsp; The question at law was
whether these articles came within the definition,
&ldquo;ordinary passengers&rsquo; luggage,&rdquo; for which, if
lost, the passenger could claim damages from the Company.</p>
<p>The judges of the Court of Queen&rsquo;s Bench sitting in
Banco have decided that such is not personal luggage.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; (said the Lord Chief Justice)
&ldquo;although we are far from saying that a pair of sheets or
the like taken by a passenger for his use on a journey might not
fairly be considered as personal luggage, it appears to us that a
quantity of articles of that description intended, not for the
use of the traveller on the journey, but for the use of his
household, when permanently settled, cannot be held to be
so.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Herepath&rsquo;s Railway
Journal</i>, Jan. 10, 1871.</p>
<h2>CONVERSION OF THE GAUGE.</h2>
<p>The conversion of the gauge on the South Wales section of the
Great Western railway in 1872 was of the heaviest description,
the period of labour lasting from seventeen to eighteen hours a
day for several successive days.&nbsp; It was the greatest work
of its kind, and nothing exactly like it will ever be done in
England again.&nbsp; The lines of rail to be connected would have
made about 400 miles in single length, the number of men employed
was about 1500; and the time taken was two weeks nearly.&nbsp;
Oatmeal and barley water was made into a thin gruel and given to
the men as required.&nbsp; It was the only drink taken during the
day.&nbsp; I <!-- page 244--><a name="page244"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 244</span>had not a single case of drunkenness
or illness.&nbsp; I have often heard these men speak with great
approbation of the supporting power of oatmeal drink.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>J. W. Armstrong</i>,
<i>C.E.</i></p>
<h2>FOURTH-OF-JULY FACTS.</h2>
<p>At a banquet in Paris attended by Americans in celebration of
the late Fourth of July, Mr. Walker&rsquo;s speech in reply to
the toast of the material prosperity of the United States and
France, and the establishment of closer commercial relations
between them, was especially striking and interesting.&nbsp; He
remarked, &ldquo;In 1870 the cost of transporting food and
merchandise between the Western and Eastern States was from a
cent-and-a-half to two cents a ton a mile.&nbsp; I well remember
a conversation which I had in 1870 or 1871 with Mr. William B.
Ogden, of Chicago, one of the modest railway kings of that
primitive period.&nbsp; In a vein of sanguine prophecy, Mr. Ogden
exclaimed to me, &lsquo;Mr. Walker, you will live to see freight
brought from Chicago to New York at a cent a ton a
mile!&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Perhaps so,&rsquo; I replied;
&lsquo;but I fear this result will not be reached in my
time.&rsquo;&nbsp; In 1877 or 1878 the cost had fallen to
three-eighths of a cent a ton a mile, and although this price was
not remunerative, I was told by one of the highest authorities in
railway matters that five-eighths of a cent would be perfectly
satisfactory.&nbsp; The effect of this reduction in the cost of
transportation is precisely as though the unexhaustible grain
fields and pastures across the Mississippi had been moved bodily
eastward to the longitude of Ohio and Western New York.&nbsp; It
is estimated that it takes a quarter of a ton of bread and meat
to feed a grown man in Massachusetts for a year.&nbsp; The bread
and meat come to him from the far west, and I have no doubt that
it will astonish you to be told, as it lately astonished me, that
a single day of this man&rsquo;s labour, even if it be of the
commonest sort, will pay for transporting his year&rsquo;s
subsistence for a thousand miles.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 245--><a name="page245"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 245</span>TAY BRIDGE ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>Dec. 28, 1879.&nbsp; A fearful disaster occurred in
Scotland.&nbsp; As the train from Edinburgh to Dundee was
crossing the bridge, two miles in length, which spans the mouth
of the Tay, a terrible hurricane struck the bridge, about four
hundred yards of which was, with the train, dashed into the sea
below.&nbsp; About seventy persons were in the train, of whom not
one escaped, nor, when the divers were able to descend, could a
single body be found in the carriages, or among the bridge
girders, and some days elapsed before any were recovered.&nbsp;
No conclusive evidence could be produced to show whether the
train was blown off the rails and so dragged the girders down, or
whether the bridge was blown away and the train ran into the
chasm thus made.&nbsp; The night was intensely dark, and the wind
more violent than had ever been known in the country.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Annual Register</i>, 1879.</p>
<h2>AN EXTRAORDINARY WAIF.</h2>
<p>The following is a translation from the Norwegian newspaper
<i>Morgenbledet</i>, dated Feb. 20th:&mdash;&ldquo;By private
letter from Utsue, an island on the western coast of Norway, is
communicated to Dapposten the intelligence that on the 12th inst.
some fishermen pulled on the Firth to haul their nets, and had
hardly finished their labour when they sighted an extraordinary
object some distance further out.&nbsp; The superstitious fears
of sea monsters which have been written a good deal about lately
held them back for some time, but their curiosity made them
approach the supposed sea monster, and, to their great surprise,
they found that it was something like a building.&nbsp; As the
sea was calm they immediately commenced to tow it to shore, where
it was hauled up on the beach, and was then found to be a damaged
railway wagon.&nbsp; The wheels were off, the windows smashed,
and one door hanging on its hinges.&nbsp; By the name on it,
&ldquo;Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway,&rdquo; it was at once
surmised that it must have been one of the wagons separated from
the train which met with the disaster on the Tay Bridge.&nbsp; In
the carriage was a portmanteau containing garments, some of them
marked &lsquo;P.B.&rsquo;&nbsp; The wagon was sent, on the 14th,
to Hangesund, to be forwarded thence to Bergen.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 246--><a name="page246"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 246</span>A RAILWAY SLEEPER.</h2>
<p>A railway pointsman, caught napping at his post and convicted
of wilful negligence, said to the gaoler who was about to lock
him up, &ldquo;I always supposed that the safety of a railroad
depended on the soundness of its sleepers?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;So
it does,&rdquo; replied the gaoler, &ldquo;but such sleepers are
never safe unless they are bolted in.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>NOT TO BE CAUGHT.</h2>
<p>The following incident is said to have occurred on the North
London Railway:&mdash;Some time ago a passenger remarked, in the
hearing of one of the company&rsquo;s servants, how easy it was
to &ldquo;do&rdquo; the company, and said, &ldquo;I often travel
from Broad Street to Dalston Junction without a
ticket&mdash;anyone can do it&mdash;I did it
yesterday.&rdquo;&nbsp; When he alighted he was followed by the
official, who asked him how it was done.&nbsp; For a
consideration he agreed to tell him.&nbsp; This being given,
&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said the inquirer, &ldquo;how did you go from
Broad Street to Dalston Junction yesterday without a
ticket?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;I
walked.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE DOCTOR AND THE OFFICERS.</h2>
<p>The following is rather a good story from the Emerald
Isle:&mdash;A doctor and his wife got into a train
near&mdash;well, we will not say where.&nbsp; In the same
carriage with the doctor were two strange officers.&nbsp; The
doctor&rsquo;s wife got into another compartment of the same
train, the doctor not having seen his wife in the hurry, neither
knew that they were travelling by the same train until both had
got into different carriages.&nbsp; Said one of the officers to
his companion, &ldquo;That is the ugliest woman I ever
saw.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;She is,&rdquo; replied the Son of
Mars.&nbsp; &ldquo;I should not like to be obliged to kiss
her,&rdquo; responded the first speaker.&nbsp; &ldquo;I should
not mind doing it,&rdquo; sullenly said the doctor.&nbsp;
&ldquo;You never would, sir, think of such a thing,&rdquo; said
the officer.&nbsp; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bet you a sovereign I
will,&rdquo; answered the man of &ldquo;pills and
potions.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Done,&rdquo; said the officer.&nbsp;
So when they all got out at the station, the doctor went forward
and kissed his wife, and won his sovereign&mdash;the
easiest-earned fee he had ever received.&nbsp; The officers
looked rather astonished when he presented his wife to them.</p>
<h2><!-- page 247--><a name="page247"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 247</span>THE BOTHERED QUEEN&rsquo;S
COUNSEL.</h2>
<p>Mr. Merewether, Q.C., got into the train one morning with a
whole batch of briefs and a talkative companion.&nbsp; He wanted
to go through his briefs, but his companion would not let him
work.&nbsp; He tried silence, he tried grunting, he tried
sarcasm.&nbsp; At length, when they came to Hanwell, the gossip
hit upon the unfortunate remark, &ldquo;How well the asylum looks
from the railway!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Pray, sir,&rdquo; replied
Mr. Merewether, &ldquo;how does the railway look from the
asylum?&rdquo;&nbsp; The man was silent.</p>
<h2>A BRAVE ENGINE DRIVER.</h2>
<p>An American contemporary says:&mdash;&ldquo;John Bull, of
Galion (Ohio), ought to have his name recorded in an enduring
way, for few have ever behaved so nobly as that engine driver of
the New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio railroad.&nbsp; As he was
driving a passenger train last month he found that, through
somebody&rsquo;s blunder, a freight train was approaching on the
same track, and a collision was inevitable.&nbsp; He could have
saved his own life by leaping from the engine, but, dismissing
all thoughts of himself, he resolved to try and save the
passengers committed to his care.&nbsp; So he reversed the engine
and set the air-brakes, and then put on full steam, started the
locomotive ahead, broke the coupling attached to the train, and
dashed on to receive the shock of the collision.&nbsp; The
passengers escaped all injury, while the brave engineer was so
badly hurt that he died in a few hours.&nbsp; Such heroism as
this should not go unnoticed.&rdquo;&nbsp; The <i>Cincinnati
Inquirer</i> says: &ldquo;He remained in the car until the engine
leaped into the air and was dashed into the ditch, when he
attempted to spring to the ground, but had his foot caught
between the frames of the engine and tender, striking his head on
the ground and causing the fatal injuries.&nbsp; Railroad men say
that the act of detaching the engine as he did, not even
derailing the baggage car with his engine at the high rate of
speed, and all in 150 feet, is without parallel in
railroading.&nbsp; A purse of 500 dollars was raised by the
grateful passengers.&nbsp; The body has been shipped to Galion
for burial.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 248--><a name="page248"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 248</span>AN INDUSTRIOUS BISHOP.</h2>
<p>In noticing the &ldquo;Life of the Rt. Rev. Samuel
Wilberforce, D.D., Lord Bishop of Oxford, and afterwards of
Winchester,&rdquo; a writer in the <i>Athen&aelig;um</i>
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;Busy he was, both in Oxford and in London,
and his correspondence with all kinds of people was unusually
large.&nbsp; A large proportion of his letters were written in
the railway train, and dated from &lsquo;near&rsquo; this town,
or &lsquo;between&rsquo; this and that.&nbsp; We remember to have
heard from one who was his companion in a railway carriage that
before the journey was half-finished the adjoining seat was
littered with envelopes of letters which he had read, and with
the answers he had written since he started.&nbsp; All this
undeniably shows energy and determination, and power to
work.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>COOL IMPUDENCE AND DISHONESTY.</h2>
<p>Some days since, the trains of the North London Railway were
all late, and consequently every platform was crowded.&nbsp; At
one of the stations an unfortunate passenger attempted to enter
an already over-crowded first-class compartment, but one of the
occupants stoutly resisted the intrusion.&nbsp; Thereupon, the
unfortunate one said, &ldquo;I will soon settle this,&rdquo; and
called the guard to the carriage door.&nbsp; He then requested
the official to ask two of the occupants to produce their
tickets, which proved to be third-class ones.&nbsp; In spite of
the delinquents protesting there was no room in the train
elsewhere, they were ejected, and the unfortunate one took their
place.&nbsp; The other passengers were naturally rather
indignant; and, seeing this, the successful intruder quietly
said, &ldquo;I am very sorry to have had to turn those two
gentlemen out, especially as I have heard them say they were
already late for an important engagement in the city; and I am
all the more sorry, seeing that I only hold a third-class ticket
myself.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Truth</i>.</p>
<h2>THE BOOKING-CLERK AND BUCKLAND.</h2>
<p>Mr. Frank Buckland had been in France and was returning via
Southampton, with an overcoat stuffed with natural history
specimens of all sorts, dead and alive.&nbsp; <!-- page 249--><a
name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 249</span>Among them
was a monkey, which was domiciled in a large inside
breast-pocket.&nbsp; As Buckland was taking his ticket, Jocko
thrust up his head and attracted the attention of the
booking-clerk, who immediately&mdash;and very
properly&mdash;said, &ldquo;You must take a ticket for that dog,
if it&rsquo;s going with you.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Dog,&rdquo;
said Buckland, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s no dog, it&rsquo;s a
monkey.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It is a dog,&rdquo; replied the
clerk.&nbsp; &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a monkey,&rdquo; retorted
Buckland, and proceeded to show the whole animal, but without
convincing the clerk, who insisted on five shillings for the
dog-ticket to London.&nbsp; Nettled at this, Buckland plunged his
hand into another pocket and produced a tortoise, and laying it
on the sill of the ticket window said, &ldquo;Perhaps
you&rsquo;ll call that a dog too.&rdquo;&nbsp; The clerk
inspected the tortoise.&nbsp; &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;we make no charge for them&mdash;they&rsquo;re
insects.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE RESCUE OF A CHILD.</h2>
<p>An engineer on a locomotive going across the western prairie
day after day, saw a little child come out in front of a cabin
and wave to him, so he got in the habit of waving back to the
child, and it was the day&rsquo;s joy to see this little one come
out in front of the cabin door and wave to him while he answered
back.&nbsp; One day the train was belated, and it came on to the
dusk of the evening.&nbsp; As the engineer stood at his post he
saw by the headlight that little girl on the track, wondering why
the train did not come, looking for the train, knowing nothing of
her peril.&nbsp; A great horror seized upon the engineer.&nbsp;
He reversed the engine.&nbsp; He gave it in charge of the other
man, and then he climbed over the engine, and he came down on the
cowcatcher.&nbsp; He said though he had reversed the engine, it
seemed as though it were going at lightning speed, faster and
faster, though it was really slowing up, and with almost
supernatural clutch he caught the child by the hair and lifted it
up, and when the train stopped, and the passengers gathered
around to see what was the matter, there the old engineer lay,
fainted dead away, the little child alive and in his swarthy
arms.</p>
<h2><!-- page 250--><a name="page250"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 250</span>FEMALE FRAGILITY.</h2>
<p>There was a time when American women prided themselves on
their fragility.&nbsp; To be healthy, strong or plump was thought
to be the height of vulgarity, and refinement was held to be
inseparable from leanness and consumption.&nbsp; These views
still obtain&mdash;so it is said&mdash;in Boston, and especially
in Bostonian literary circles; but elsewhere the American woman
is growing plump and healthy, and is actually proud of it.&nbsp;
While wise men are heartily glad of this change in female
sentiment and tissue, it must be admitted that there is one form
of feminine fragility which has its value.&nbsp; There is a rare
condition of the bony system in which the bones are so fragile
that the slightest blow is sufficient to break them.&nbsp; A baby
thus afflicted cannot be handled, even by the most experienced
mother, without danger; and a man with fragile bones is so liable
to be broken, that there is sometimes no safety for him outside
of a glass case.&nbsp; The late Mrs. Baker&mdash;for that was her
latest name&mdash;was not so fragile that she could not be
handled by a careful man, but still a very light blow would
usually break her.&nbsp; She did not share the Bostonian opinion
of the vulgarity of strength, but she was, nevertheless, very
proud of her fragility, and by its aid her husband managed to
amass a comfortable fortune within three years after their
marriage.&nbsp; She is perhaps the only fragile woman on record
of whom it can be said that her whole value consisted in her
fragility, but, as her story shows, her fragility was the sole
capital invested in her husband&rsquo;s business.&nbsp; In
January, 1870, Mrs. Baker&mdash;then a single woman, as to whose
maiden name there is some uncertainty&mdash;was married to Mr.
Wheelwright&mdash;James G. Wheelwright, of Worcester, Mass.&nbsp;
Her husband married her on account of her well-known fragility,
but he treated her with such kindness that in the whole course of
their married life he never once broke her, even by
accident.&nbsp; In February, 1870, the Wheelwrights removed to
Utica, N.Y., and one day Mr. Wheelwright took his wife to the
railway station, and had her break her leg in a small hole on the
platform.&nbsp; He at once sued the railway company for 10,000
dols., being the value set by himself on his wife&rsquo;s leg,
and ten days <!-- page 251--><a name="page251"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 251</span>afterwards accepted 5,000 dols. as a
compromise, and withdrew the suit The Wheelwrights left Utica in
June, 1870, and in the following August the dutiful Mrs.
Wheelwright, who now called herself Mrs. Thomas, broke her other
leg in a hole in the platform of the railway station at
Pittsburg.&nbsp; Again her husband sued the railway company for
15,000 dols., and compromised for 6,500 dols.&nbsp; The leg was
mended successfully, and in July, 1871, we find the Thomases, now
passing under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Smiley, at Cincinnati,
where Mr. Smiley, after long searching, discovered a piece of
ragged and uneven sidewalk, upon which his wife made a point of
falling and breaking her right arm.&nbsp; This time the city was
sued for 15,000 dols., and Mr. Smiley proved that his wife was a
school teacher by profession, and that the breaking of her arm
rendered it impossible for her to teach, for there as on that she
could not wield a rod or even a slipper.&nbsp; The city paid the
15,000 dols. and the Smileys, having by honest industry thus made
26,500 dols., removed to Chicago, and entered their names on the
hotel register as Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis, of Portland, Me.&nbsp;
On the second day after their arrival at the hotel, Mr. McGinnis
found an eligible place on the piazza for Mrs. McGinnis to break
another leg, which that excellent woman promptly did.&nbsp; The
usual suit of 15,000 dols. was brought, and the hotel-keeper,
fearing that the notoriety of the suit would injure his hotel,
was glad to compromise by paying 8,000 dols.&nbsp; By this time,
it is understood, Mrs. McGinnis was willing to retire from
business, but her husband had set his heart on making 50,000
dols., and like a good wife she consented to break some more
bones.&nbsp; It should be said that there was very little pain
attending a fracture of any one of the lady&rsquo;s bones, and
that she did not in the least mind the monotony of lying in bed
while the broken bones knitted themselves together.&nbsp; There
can, therefore, be no charge of cruelty brought against her
husband.&nbsp; Indeed, she herself entered with a hearty goodwill
into the scheme of making a living with her bones, and would go
out to break a leg with as much cheerfulness as if she was going
to a theatre.&nbsp; In March, 1872, Mrs. Wilkins&mdash;hitherto
known as Mr. McGinnis&mdash;walked into an open trench in a
street in St. Louis and broke another leg.&nbsp; This <!-- page
252--><a name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
252</span>time the suit brought by Mr. Wilkins against the city
did not succeed, and the inquiries which were put on foot as to
the antecedents of the Wilkinses fairly frightened them out of
the city.&nbsp; They turned up a month later in Detroit, where
the weather was still cold, and much snow had recently
fallen.&nbsp; There were still 16,000 dollars to be made before
the industrious pair would have the whole of their desired 50,000
dollars, and it was decided that Mrs. Wilkins&mdash;who had
changed her name to Mrs. Baker&mdash;should fall on the icy
pavement and break both arms.&nbsp; This, it was estimated, would
be worth at least 8,000 dols., and it was hoped that the
subsequent judicious breakage of two legs on the premises of a
Canadian railway would bring in 8,000 dols. more, after which the
Bakers intended to retire from business.&nbsp; Early one morning
Mr. Baker took his wife out and had her fall on a nice piece of
ice, where she broke both arms.&nbsp; Unfortunately, she fell
more heavily than was necessary, and, in addition, broke her neck
and instantly expired.&nbsp; The grief of Mr. Baker naturally
knew no bounds, and he sued for 25,000 dols., all of which he
recovered.&nbsp; He had thus made 59,500 dols. by the aid of his
fragile wife, and demonstrated that as a source of steady income
a woman who breaks easily is almost priceless.&nbsp; Still,
nothing could console him for the loss of his beloved partner,
and he is to-day a lonely and unhappy man.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>New York Times</i>.</p>
<h2>TAKING HIM DOWN A PEG.</h2>
<p>A guard of a railway train, upon the late occasion of a
<i>hitch</i>, which detained the passengers for some time, gave
himself so much importance in commanding them, that one old
gentleman took the wind out of his sails by calling him to the
carriage door, and saying, &ldquo;May I take the liberty, sir, of
asking you what occupation you filled previous to being a railway
guard?&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A REMARKABLE NOTICE.</h2>
<p>On a certain railway, the following notice
appeared:&mdash;&ldquo;Hereafter, when trains moving in opposite
directions are approaching each other on separate lines,
conductors and <!-- page 253--><a name="page253"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 253</span>engineers will be required to bring
their respective trains to a dead halt before the point of
meeting, and be very careful not to proceed till each train has
passed the other.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>FLUTTER CAUSED BY THE MURDER OF MR. BRIGGS.</h2>
<p>My vocations led me to travel almost daily on one of the Great
Eastern lines&mdash;the Woodford Branch.&nbsp; Every one knows
that M&uuml;ller perpetrated his detestable act on the North
London Railway, close by.&nbsp; The English middle class, of
which I am myself a feeble unit, travel on the Woodford branch in
large numbers.&nbsp; Well, the demoralization of our
class,&mdash;which (the newspapers are constantly saying it, so I
may repeat it without vanity) has done all the great things which
have ever been done in England,&mdash;the demoralization of our
class caused, I say, by the Bow tragedy, was something
bewildering.&nbsp; Myself a transcendentalist (as the <i>Saturday
Review</i> knows), I escaped the infection; and day after day I
used to ply my agitated fellow-travellers with all the
consolations which my transcendentalism and my turn for French
would naturally suggest to me.&nbsp; I reminded them how Julius
C&aelig;sar refused to take precautions against assassination,
because life was not worth having at the price of an ignoble
solicitude for it.&nbsp; I reminded them what insignificant atoms
we all are in the life of the world.&nbsp; Suppose the worse to
happen, I said, addressing a portly jeweller from
Cheapside,&mdash;suppose even yourself to be the victim, <i>il
n&rsquo;y a pas d&rsquo;homme n&eacute;cessaire</i>.&nbsp; We
should miss you for a day or two on the Woodford Branch; but the
great mundane movement would still go on, the gravel walks of
your villa would still be rolled, dividends would still be paid
at the bank, omnibuses would still run, there would still be the
old crush at the corner of Fenchurch street.&nbsp; All was of no
avail.&nbsp; Nothing could moderate in the bosom of the great
English middle class their passionate, absorbing, almost
blood-thirsty clinging to life.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Matthew Arnold&rsquo;s
<i>Essays in Criticism</i>.</p>
<h2><!-- page 254--><a name="page254"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 254</span>AN EXTRAORDINARY BLUNDER.</h2>
<p>A correspondent, writing from Am&eacute;lia les Bains,
says:&mdash;A very singular blunder was committed the other day
by the officials of a railway station between Prepignan and
Toulon.&nbsp; A gentleman who had been spending the winter here
with his family, left last week for Marseilles, taking with him
the body of his mother-in-law, who died six weeks ago, and who
had expressed a wish to be buried in the family vault at
Marseilles.&nbsp; When he reached Marseilles and went with the
commissioner of police&mdash;whose presence is required upon
these occasions&mdash;to receive the body from the railway
officials, he noticed to his great surprise that the coffin was
of a different shape and construction from that which he had
brought from here.&nbsp; It turned out upon further inquiry that
a mistake had been committed by the officials, who had sent on to
Toulon the coffin containing his mother-in-law&rsquo;s body,
believing that it held the remains of a deceased admiral, which
was to be embarked for interment in Algeria, while the coffin
awaiting delivery was the one which should have been sent
on.&nbsp; The gentleman who was placed in this awkward
predicament, having requested the railway officials to
communicate at once with Toulon by telegraph, proceeded thither
himself with the coffin of the admiral, but the intimation had
arrived too late.&nbsp; He ascertained when he got there that the
first coffin had been duly received, taken on board, amid
&ldquo;the thunder of fort and of fleet,&rdquo; the state vessel
which was waiting for it, and despatched to Algeria.&nbsp; He at
once called upon the maritime prefect of Toulon, and explained
the circumstances of the case, but though a despatch-boat was
sent in pursuit, the other vessel was not overtaken.&nbsp; He is
now at Toulon awaiting her return, and I believe that he declines
to give up the coffin containing the deceased admiral until he
regains possession of his mother-in-law&rsquo;s remains.</p>
<h2>A CURIOUS RACE.</h2>
<p>In July, 1877, a carrier-pigeon tried conclusions with a
railway train.&nbsp; The bird was a Belgian voyageur, bred at
Woolwich, and &ldquo;homed&rdquo; to a house in Cannon Street,
City.&nbsp; The train was the Continental mail-express timed <!--
page 255--><a name="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
255</span>not to stop between Dover and Cannon Street
Station.&nbsp; The pigeon, conveying an urgent message from the
French police, was tossed through the railway carriage window as
the train moved from the Admiralty Pier, the wind being west, the
atmosphere hazy, but the sun shining.&nbsp; For more than a
minute the bird circled round till it attained an altitude of
about half-a-mile, and then it sailed away Londonwards.&nbsp; By
this time the engine had got full steam on, and the train was
tearing away at the rate of sixty miles an hour; but the carrier
was more than a match for it.&nbsp; Taking a line midway between
Maidstone and Sittingbourne, it reached home twenty minutes
before the express dashed into the station; the train having
accomplished seventy-six-and-a-half miles to the pigeon&rsquo;s
seventy, but being badly beaten for all that.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>All the Year
Round</i>.</p>
<h2>A GREENLANDER&rsquo;S FIRST RAILWAY RIDE.</h2>
<p>Hans Hendrik, a native of Greenland, thus describes his first
journey by rail in America:&mdash;&ldquo;Then our train arrived
and we took seats in it.&nbsp; When we had started and looked at
the ground, it appeared like a river, making us dizzy, and the
trembling of the carriage might give you headache.&nbsp; In this
way we proceeded, and whenever we approached houses they gave
warning by making big whistle sound, and on arriving at the
houses they rung a bell and we stopped for a little while.&nbsp;
By the way we entered a long cave through the earth, used as a
road, and soon after we emerged from it again.&nbsp; At length we
reached our goal, and entered a large mansion, in which numbers
of people crowded together.&rdquo;&nbsp; He likens the people
going out of the railway-station to a &ldquo;crowd of
church-goers, on account of their number.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Good Words</i>, April,
1880.</p>
<h2>A NOVEL ACTION.</h2>
<p>Will bad table manners vitiate legal grounds of action?&nbsp;
A collision recently occurred while an Italian commercial
traveller was eating a Bologna sausage in a railway train.&nbsp;
The shock of the collision drove the knife so violently against
<!-- page 256--><a name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
256</span>his mouth as to widen it.&nbsp; He brought suit for
damages.&nbsp; The defence was that the injuries were caused by
the knife; that the knife should never be carried to the mouth,
and that the plaintiff, having injured himself by reason of his
bad habit of eating, must take the consequences and pay his own
doctor&rsquo;s bill.&nbsp; The case is not yet finally
decided.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Echo</i>, Oct. 1st.,
1880.</p>
<h2>A KISS IN THE DARK.</h2>
<p>On one of the seats in a railway train was a married lady with
a little daughter; opposite, facing them, was another child, a
son, and a coloured &ldquo;lady&rdquo; with a baby.&nbsp; The
mother of these children was a beautiful matron with sparkling
eyes, in exuberant health and vivacious spirits.&nbsp; Near her
sat a young lieutenant, dressed to kill and seeking a
victim.&nbsp; He scraped up an acquaintance with the mother by
attentions to the children.&nbsp; It was not long before he was
essaying to make himself very agreeable to her, and by the time
the sun began to decline, one would have thought they were old
familiar friends.&nbsp; The lieutenant felt that he had made an
impression&mdash;his elation manifested it.&nbsp; The lady,
dreaming of no wrong, suspecting no evil, was apparently pleased
with her casual acquaintance.&nbsp; By-and-by the train
approached a tunnel.&nbsp; The gay lieutenant leaned over and
whispered something in the lady&rsquo;s ear.&nbsp; It was noticed
that she appeared as thunderstruck, and her eyes immediately
flamed with indignation.&nbsp; A moment more and a smile lighted
up her features.&nbsp; What changes?&nbsp; That smile was not one
of pleasure, but was sinister.&nbsp; It was unperceived by the
lieutenant.&nbsp; She made him a reply which apparently rejoiced
him very much.&nbsp; For the understanding properly this
narrative, we must tell the reader what was whispered and what
was replied.&nbsp; &ldquo;I mean to kiss you when we get into the
tunnel!&rdquo; whispered the lieutenant.&nbsp; &ldquo;It will be
dark; who will see it?&rdquo; replied the lady.&nbsp; Into
earth&rsquo;s bowels&mdash;into the tunnel ran the train.&nbsp;
Lady and coloured nurse quickly change seats.&nbsp; Gay
lieutenant threw his arms around the lady sable, pressed her
cheek to his, and fast and furious rained kisses on her
lips.&nbsp; In a few moments the train came out into broad
daylight.&nbsp; White lady looked amazed&mdash;coloured <!-- page
257--><a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
257</span>lady, bashful, blushing&mdash;gay lieutenant
befogged.&nbsp; &ldquo;Jane,&rdquo; said the white lady,
&ldquo;what have you been doing?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Nothing!&rdquo; responded the coloured lady.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Yes, you have,&rdquo; said the white lady, not in an
undertone, but in a voice that attracted the attention of all in
the carriage.&nbsp; &ldquo;See how your collar is rumpled and
your bonnet smashed.&rdquo;&nbsp; Jane, poor coloured beauty,
hung her head for a moment, the &ldquo;observed of all
observers,&rdquo; and then, turning round to the lieutenant,
replied: &ldquo;<i>This man kissed me in the
tunnel</i>!&rdquo;&nbsp; Loud and long was the laugh that
followed among the passengers.&nbsp; The white lady enjoyed the
joke amazingly.&nbsp; Lieutenant looked like a sheep-stealing
dog, left the carriage at the next station, and was seen no
more.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Cape Argus</i>.</p>
<h2>THE GRAVEDIGGER&rsquo;S SUGGESTION.</h2>
<p>The Midland Railway, on being extended to London, was the
occasion of the removal of a vast amount of house property, also
it interfered to a certain extent with the graveyard belonging to
Old St. Pancras Church.&nbsp; The company had purchased a new
piece of ground in which to re-inter the human remains discovered
in the part they required.&nbsp; Amongst them was the corpse of a
high dignitary of the French Romish Church.&nbsp; Orders were
received for the transmission of the remains to his native land,
and the delicate work of exhuming the corpse was entrusted to
some clever gravediggers.&nbsp; On opening the ground they were
surprised to find, not bones of one man, but of several.&nbsp;
Three skulls and three sets of bones were yielded by the soil in
which they had lain mouldering.&nbsp; The difficulty was how to
identify the bones of a French ecclesiastic amid so many.&nbsp;
After much discussion, the shrewdest gravedigger suggested that,
being a Frenchman, the darkest coloured skull must be his.&nbsp;
Acting upon this idea, the blackest bones were sorted and put
together, until the requisite number of rights and lefts were
obtained.&nbsp; These were reverently screwed up in a new coffin,
conveyed to France, and buried with all the pomp and circumstance
of the Roman Catholic Church.</p>
<h2><!-- page 258--><a name="page258"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 258</span>AN AMUSING INCIDENT.</h2>
<p>An American correspondent writes:&mdash;&ldquo;I have just
finished reading a most amusing incident, and, as it occurs in a
book not likely to fall into the hands of many of the members, I
am tempted to relate it, although it might prove to be
&lsquo;stale.&rsquo;&nbsp; Well, to begin: It tells of a maiden
lady, who, having arrived at the mature age of 51 without ever
having seen a railway train, decides to visit New York.&nbsp; The
all-important day having arrived, she seats herself calmly on the
platform of the country station, and gazes with amazement as the
train draws up, takes on its passengers, and pursues its
journey.&nbsp; As she stares after it the stationmaster asks her
why she did not get on if she wishes to go to New York.&nbsp;
&lsquo;Get on,&rsquo; says Miss Polly, in surprise, &lsquo;get
on!&nbsp; Why, bless me, if I didn&rsquo;t think this whole
concern went!&rsquo;&nbsp; Being placed on the next train, she
proceeds on her way, when, finally, having seen so many wonderful
things, she concluded not to be astonished, whatever may
happen.&nbsp; A collision occurs and the gentleman next to her is
thrown to the end of the car among a heap of broken seats.&nbsp;
She supposes it to be the usual manner of stopping, and quietly
remarks: &lsquo;Ye fetch up rather sudden, don&rsquo;t
ye?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>A LITTLE BOY&rsquo;S COOLNESS.</h2>
<p>The suit of William O&rsquo;Connor against the Boston and
Lowell Railroad at Lawrence has resulted in a verdict for the
plaintiff in $10,000, one-half the amount sued for.&nbsp; This
suit grew out of an accident which occurred August 27th,
1880.&nbsp; The plaintiff was the father of a child then between
five and six years old.&nbsp; He and his brother, three years
older, were crossing a private way maintained by the railroad for
the Essex Company, and the younger boy, while walking backward,
stepped between the rail and planking of the roadway inside and
was unable to extricate his foot.&nbsp; At that moment the
whistle of a train was heard within a few hundred feet and out of
sight around a curve, and it appeared from the evidence that the
older brother, finding himself unable to relieve his brother, ran
down the track toward the train; but finding that he could not
attract the <!-- page 259--><a name="page259"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 259</span>attention of the trainmen to his
brother&rsquo;s condition, and that he must be run over, ran back
to him, and, telling him to lie down, pulled him outward and down
and held him there until the train had passed.&nbsp; Both feet of
the little fellow were cut off or mangled so that amputation was
necessary.&nbsp; The theory of the defence was that the boy was
not caught, but while running across the track, fell and was run
over.&nbsp; But the testimony of the older brother was unshaken
in every particular.&nbsp; It would be difficult to match the
nerve, thoughtfulness, and disregard of self displayed by this
boy, who at that time was less than nine years old.</p>
<h2>PHOTOGRAPHING AN EXPRESS TRAIN.</h2>
<p>An interesting application of the instantaneous method of
photography was recently made by a firm of photographers at
Henley-on-Thames.&nbsp; These artists were successful in
photographing the Great Western Railway express train familiarly
known as the &ldquo;Flying Dutchman,&rdquo; while running through
Twyford station at a speed of nearly sixty miles an hour.&nbsp;
The definition of this lightning-like picture is truly wonderful,
the details of the mechanism on the flying locomotive standing
out as sharply as the immovable telegraph posts and palings
beside the line.&nbsp; The photographers are now engaged, we
believe, in constructing a swift shutter for their camera which
will reduce the period of exposure of the photographic plate to
1-500th of a second.&nbsp; The same artists have also executed
some charming pictures of the upper Thames, with floating swans
and moving boats, which cannot but win the admiration of artists
and all lovers of the picturesque.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Cassell&rsquo;s Family
Magazine</i>, Nov. 1880.</p>
<h2>NERVOUSNESS.</h2>
<p>Surely people are far more <i>nervous</i> now than they used
to be some generations back.&nbsp; The mental cultivation and the
mental wear which we have to go through tends to make that
strange and inexplicable portion of our physical construction a
very great deal too sensitive for the work and trial of daily
life.&nbsp; A few days ago I drove a friend who <!-- page
260--><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
260</span>had been paying us a visit over to our railway
station.&nbsp; He is a man of fifty, a remarkably able and
accomplished man.&nbsp; Before the train started, the guard came
round to look at the tickets.&nbsp; My friend could not find his;
he searched his pockets everywhere, and although the entire evil
consequence, had the ticket not turned up, could not possibly
have been more than the payment a second time of four or five
shillings, he got into a nervous tremor painful to see.&nbsp; He
shook from head to foot; his hand trembled so that he could not
prosecute his search rightly, and finally he found the missing
ticket in a pocket which he had already searched half-a-dozen
times.&nbsp; Now contrast the condition of this highly-civilized
man, thrown into a painful flurry and confusion at the demand of
a railway ticket, with the impassive coolness of a savage, who
would not move a muscle if you hacked him in pieces.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Fraser&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>A PROFITABLE RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>The shortest and most profitable railway in the world is
probably to be seen at Coney Island, the famous suburban summer
resort of New York.&nbsp; This is the &ldquo;Marine
Railway,&rdquo; which connects the Manhattan Beach Hotel and the
Brighton Beach Hotel.&nbsp; It is 2,000 feet in length, is laid
with steel rails, and has a handsome little station at each
end.&nbsp; Its equipment consists of two locomotives and four
cars, open at the sides, and having reversible seats; and a train
of two cars is run each way every five minutes.&nbsp; The cost of
this miniature road, including stations and equipment, was 27,000
dols., and it paid for itself in a few weeks after it was opened
for business.&nbsp; The operating expenses are 30 dols. a day,
and the average receipts are 450 dols. a day the entire season,
900 dols. being sometime taken in.&nbsp; The fare charged is five
cents.&nbsp; The property paid a profit last year of 500 dols.
per cent on its cost.</p>
<h2>THE POLITE BRAHMIN.</h2>
<p>Owing to the various dialects in the South of India, as a
matter of convenience the English language is much used for
personal communication by the natives of different parts of the
Presidency of Madras.&nbsp; Mr. Edward Lear, who has <!-- page
261--><a name="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
261</span>travelled much in that part of the country, gives the
following interesting account of a journey:&mdash;&ldquo;I was in
a second-class railway carriage going from Madras to
Bangalore.&nbsp; There was only one other passenger beside myself
and servant, and he was a Brahmin, dressed all in white, with the
string worn over the shoulder, by which you may always recognise
a Brahmin.&nbsp; He had a great many boxes and small articles,
which took up a great deal of room in the compartment, and when
at the next station the door was opened for another passenger to
get in, the guard said:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You cannot have all those boxes inside the
carriage; some of them must be taken out.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Oh, sir,&rsquo; said the Brahmin in good
English, &lsquo;I assure you these articles are by no means
necessary to my comfort, and I hope you will not hesitate to
dispose of them as you please.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Accordingly, therefore, the boxes were taken
away.&nbsp; Then the newcomer stepped in; he was also a native,
but dressed in quite a different manner from the Brahmin, his
clothing being blue, green, red, and all the colours of the
rainbow, so that one saw at once the two persons were from
different parts of India.&nbsp; Presently he surprised me by
saying to the Brahmin,</p>
<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Pray, sir, excuse me for having given you the
trouble of removing any part of your luggage; I am really quite
sorry to have given you any inconvenience whatever.&rsquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;To which the Brahmin replied, &lsquo;I beg sir, you
will make no apologies; it is impossible you can have incommoded
me by causing the removal of those trifling articles; and, even
if you have done so, the pleasure of your society would afford me
perfect compensation.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
<h2>MR. FRANK BUCKLAND AND HIS BOOTS.</h2>
<p>Mr. Spencer Walpole furnishes some interesting and amusing
gossip about the late Mr. Frank Buckland, describing some of his
many eccentricities, and telling many stories relative to his
peculiar habits.&nbsp; He had, it seems, a great objection to
stockings and boots and coats, his favourite attire consisting of
nothing else than trousers and a flannel shirt.&nbsp; Boots were
his special aversion, and he never lost an opportunity of kicking
them off his feet.</p>
<p><!-- page 262--><a name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
262</span>&ldquo;On one occasion,&rdquo; we are told,
&ldquo;travelling alone in a railway carriage, he fell asleep
with his feet resting on the window-sill.&nbsp; As usual, he
kicked off his boots, and they fell outside the carriage on the
line.&nbsp; When he reached his destination the boots could not,
of course, be found, and he had to go without them to his
hotel.&nbsp; The next morning a platelayer, examining the
permanent way, came upon the boots, and reported to the traffic
manager that he had found a pair of gentleman&rsquo;s boots, but
that he could not find the gentleman.&nbsp; Some one connected
with the railway recollected that Mr. Buckland had been seen in
the neighbourhood, and, knowing his eccentricities, inferred that
the boots must belong to him.&nbsp; They were accordingly sent to
the Home Office, and were at once claimed.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>DRINKING FROM THE WRONG BOTTLE.</h2>
<p>An incident has occurred on one of the suburban lines which
will certainly be supposed by many to be only <i>ben trovato</i>,
but it is a real fact.&nbsp; A lady, who seemed perfectly well
before the train entered a tunnel, suddenly alarmed her
fellow-passengers during the temporary darkness by exclaiming,
&ldquo;I am poisoned!&rdquo;&nbsp; On re-emerging into daylight,
an awkward explanation ensued.&nbsp; The lady carried with her
two bottles, one of methylated spirit, the other of cognac.&nbsp;
Wishing, presumably, for a refresher on the sly, she took
advantage of the gloom; but she applied the wrong bottle to her
lips.&nbsp; Time pressed, and she took a good drain.&nbsp; The
consequence was she was nearly poisoned, and had to apply herself
honestly and openly to the brandy bottle as a corrective, amidst
the ironical condolence of the passengers she had previously
alarmed.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Once a Week</i>.</p>
<h2>HORSES VERSUS RAILWAYS.</h2>
<p>A horse for every mile of road was the allowance made by the
best coachmasters on the great routes.&nbsp; On the corresponding
portions of the railway system the great companies have put a
locomotive engine per mile.&nbsp; If a horse earned a hundred
guineas a year, out of which his cost had to be defrayed, he did
well.&nbsp; A single locomotive <!-- page 263--><a
name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 263</span>on the
Great Northern Railway (and that company has 611 engines for 659
miles of line) was stated by John Robinson, in 1873, to perform
the work of 678 horses&mdash;work, that is, as measured by
resistance overcome; for the horses, whatever their number, could
not have reached the speed of fifty miles an hour, at which the
engines in questions whirled along a train of sixteen carriages,
weighing in all 225 tons.&nbsp; There are now upwards of 13,000
locomotives at work in the United Kingdom, each of them earning
on the average, &pound;4,750 per annum.&nbsp; But we have at the
same time more horses employed for the conveyance of passengers
than we had in 1835.&nbsp; In omnibus and station
work&mdash;waiting upon the steam horse&mdash;there is more
demand for horseflesh than was made by our entire coaching system
in 1835.</p>
<h2>A SLIGHT MISTAKE.</h2>
<p>An Irish newspaper is responsible for the
following:&mdash;&ldquo;A deaf man named Taff was run down and
killed by a passenger train on Wednesday morning.&nbsp; He was
injured in a similar way about a year ago.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>EXPENSIVE CONTRACTS.</h2>
<p>An interesting glimpse into the inner working of State, and
especially Russian, Government railways was afforded in a recent
discussion on railway management in Russia, published by the
<i>Journal</i> of the German Railroad Union.&nbsp; During this
debate it appears that the details were published of the famous
contract of the late American Winans with the Government
concerning the Nicholas Railroad.&nbsp; By the use of
considerable money, Winans succeeded in making a contract, to
extend from July 1st, 1866, for eight years, by which the
Government was to pay him for oiling cars and small car repairs
at an agreed rate per passenger and per ton mile.&nbsp; In
addition to this he received a fixed sum of about &pound;15,000
(78,000 dols.) per year for painting and maintaining the interior
of the passenger cars; &pound;6,000 for keeping up the shops, and
finally &pound;8,000 yearly for renewing what rolling stock might
be worn out.&nbsp; The St. Nicholas line <!-- page 264--><a
name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 264</span>was
eventually taken over by the Great Russian Company, which in 1872
succeeded in making the Government annul the contract by paying
Winans a penalty of &pound;750,000, which the Great Russian
Company paid back with interest within four years.&nbsp; If the
contract had been continued it would have cost the company more
than one-third of its net earnings, since the saving amounts to
nearly &pound;523,000 per annum.&nbsp; Another contract which the
Government had made for the same road with a sleeping-car company
was settled shortly afterward by the Government taking from the
company the few cars it had on hand, and paying &pound;75,000 for
them and &pound;10,000 a year for the unexpired seven years of
the contract.</p>
<h2>MR. BRASSEY&rsquo;S STRICT ADHERENCE TO HIS WORD.</h2>
<p>The following is one of such stories, illustrative of one
phase of Mr. Brassey&rsquo;s character&mdash;his strict adherence
to his word, under all circumstances.</p>
<p>When the &ldquo;Sambre and Meuse&rdquo; was drawing towards
completion, Mr. Brassey came along as usual with a staff of
agents inspecting the progress of the work.&nbsp; Stopping at
Olloy, a small place between Mariembourg and Vireux, near a large
blacksmith&rsquo;s shop, the man, a Frenchman or Belgian, came
out, and standing up on the bank, with much gesticulation and
flourish, proceeded to make Mr. Brassey a grand oration.&nbsp;
Anxious to proceed, Mr. Brassey paid him no particular attention,
but good naturedly endeavoured to cut the matter short, with
&ldquo;Oui, oui, oui,&rdquo; and at length got away, the
Frenchman apparently expressing great delight.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, gentlemen, what are you laughing at, what is the
joke?&rdquo; said he to his staff as they went along.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why, sir, do you know what that fellow said, and for
what he was asking?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, indeed, I don&rsquo;t; I supposed he was
complimenting me in some way, or thanking me for
something.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;He <i>was</i> complimenting you, sir, to some tune, and
asking, as a souvenir of his happy engagement under the Great
Brassey, that you would of your goodness make him a present of
the shop, iron, tools, and all belonging!&rdquo;</p>
<p><!-- page 265--><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
265</span>&ldquo;Did he, though!&nbsp; I did not understand
that.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No sir, but you kept on saying, &lsquo;Oui, oui,
oui,&rsquo; and the fellow&rsquo;s delighted, as he well may be,
they&rsquo;re worth &pound;50 or &pound;60.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, but I didn&rsquo;t mean that, I didn&rsquo;t mean
that.&nbsp; Well, never mind, if I said it, he must <i>have</i>
them.&rdquo;</p>
<p>It must be borne in mind, that at that time, at best, Mr.
Brassey knew very little French, and his staff were well aware of
the fact.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sep. 13, 1872.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">S. S.</p>
<h2>EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT.</h2>
<p>In a leading article in the <i>Birmingham Post</i>, Nov. 12th,
1880, the writer remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;The report of Major
Marindin on the collision which took place between two Midland
trains, in Leicestershire, about a month ago, has just been
published, but it adds nothing to the information given at the
time when the accident happened.&nbsp; The case was, as the
report says, one of a remarkable, if not unprecedented nature,
for the collision arose from a passenger train running backwards
instead of forwards nearly half-a-mile, without either driver or
stoker noticing that its movement was in the wrong
direction.&nbsp; Shortly after the train had passed the village
station of Kibworth, where it was not timed to stop, the driver
observed a knocking sound on his engine.&nbsp; He pulled up the
train in order to ascertain the cause of this, and finding that
nothing serious was the matter, proceeded on his journey again,
or rather intended to do so, for, by an extraordinary mistake, he
turned the screw the wrong way, so as to reverse the action of
the engine, and to direct the train back to Kibworth.&nbsp;
There, a mineral train was making its way towards Leicester, and
as the line was on a sharp incline the result might have been a
most destructive collision.&nbsp; It was, however, reduced to one
of a comparatively mild description by the promptness and
efficiency with which the brakes were applied to both the
trains.&nbsp; Had not the mineral train been pulled up, and the
passenger train lowered from a speed of twenty to three or four
miles an hour, probably the whole of the passengers would have
been crushed between the two engines.&nbsp; The <!-- page
266--><a name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
266</span>passengers, therefore, owed their safety to the
excellent brake-power which was at command.&nbsp; The excuse
offered by the driver of the passenger train for turning the
engine backwards was the shape of the reversing screw, which was
of a construction not commonly used on the Midland line, though
many of the company&rsquo;s engines were so fitted.&nbsp; The
fireman had also his apology for making the same oversight.&nbsp;
He said he was at the time stooping down to adjust the
injector.&nbsp; Major Marindin, though admitting that the men
were experienced, careful, and sober, refuses to accept either of
these excuses; but he can supply no better reason himself for the
amazing oversight they committed.&nbsp; The only satisfactory
part of the report is that in which the working of the brake
mechanism is spoken of.&nbsp; The passenger train had the
Westinghouse brake fitted to all the carriages, and such was its
efficiency that, had it extended to the engine and tender as
well, Major Marindin believes the accident would have been
entirely prevented.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE MEMORY FOR SOUNDS.</h2>
<p>Among strange mental feats the strangest perhaps yet recorded
are the following singular feats of memory for sound, related in
the <i>Scientific American</i>.&nbsp; In the city of Rochester,
N. Y., resides a boy named Hicks, who, though he has only lately
removed from Buffalo to Rochester, has already learned to
distinguish three hundred locomotive engines by the sound of
their bells.&nbsp; During the day the boy is employed so far from
the railway that he seldom hears a passing train; but at night he
can hear every train, his house being near the railroad.&nbsp; To
give an idea of his wonderful memory for sounds (and his scarcely
less wonderful memory for numbers also) take the following
cases.&nbsp; Not long ago young Hicks went to Syracuse, and while
there, he, hearing an engine coming out of the round-house,
remarked to a friend that he knew the bell, though he had not
heard it for five years: he gave the number of the engine, which
proved to be correct.&nbsp; Again, not long since, an old
switch-engine, used in the yards at Buffalo, was sent to
Rochester for some special purpose.&nbsp; It passed near
Hicks&rsquo; house, and he remarked that the engine was number
<!-- page 267--><a name="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
267</span>so and so, and that he had not heard the bell for six
years.&nbsp; A boarder in the house ran to the railroad, and
found the number given by Hicks was the correct one.&nbsp; To
most persons the bells on American locomotives seem all much
alike in sound and <i>timbre</i>, though, of course, a good ear
will readily distinguish differences, especially between bells
which are sounded within a short interval of time.&nbsp; But that
anyone should be able in the first place to discriminate between
two or three hundred of these bells, and in the second place to
retain the recollection of the slight peculiarities
characterising each for several years, would seem altogether
incredible, had we not other instances&mdash;such as
Bidder&rsquo;s and Colburn&rsquo;s calculating feats,
Morphy&rsquo;s blindfold chess-play, etc.&mdash;of the amazing
degree in which one brain may surpass all others in some special
quality, though perhaps, in other respects, not exceptionally
powerful, or even relatively deficient.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Gentleman&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>, March 1880.</p>
<h2>A DISINGENUOUS BISHOP.</h2>
<p>Max. O&rsquo;Rell, the French author, in his book <i>John Bull
at Home</i>, writes English people are very great on words; lying
is unknown.&nbsp; I was travelling by rail one day with an
English bishop.&nbsp; There were five in our compartment.&nbsp;
On arriving at a station we heard a cry, &ldquo;Five minutes
here!&rdquo;&nbsp; My lord bishop, with the greatest haste, set
to work to spread out travelling-bag, hat-box, rug, papers,
&amp;c.&nbsp; A lady appeared at the door, and asked, &ldquo;Is
there room here?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; replied the
bishop, &ldquo;all the seats are full.&rdquo;&nbsp; When the poor
lady had been sent about her business, we called his
lordship&rsquo;s attention to the fact that there were only five
of us in the carriage, and that, consequently all the seats were
not taken.&nbsp; &ldquo;I did not say that they were,&rdquo;
answered my lord; &ldquo;I said that they were
<i>full</i>.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>DROPPING THE LETTER &ldquo;L.&rdquo;</h2>
<p>In an advertisement by a railway company of some unclaimed
goods, the &ldquo;l&rdquo; dropped from the word
&ldquo;lawful,&rdquo; and it reads now, &ldquo;People to whom
these packages are directed are requested to come forward and pay
the <i>awful</i> charges on the same.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 268--><a name="page268"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 268</span>THE SAFEST SEAT IN A RAILWAY
CARRIAGE.</h2>
<p>The <i>American Engineer</i>, as the result of scientific
calculations and protracted experience, says the safest seat is
in the middle of the last car but one.&nbsp; There are some
chances of danger, which are the same everywhere in the train,
but others are least at the above-named place.</p>
<h2>RAILWAYS A JUDGMENT.</h2>
<p>In <i>White&rsquo;s Warfare of Science</i> there is an account
of a worthy French Archbishop who declared that railways were an
evidence of the divine displeasure against innkeepers, inasmuch
that they would be punished for supplying meat on fast days by
seeing travellers carried by them past their doors.</p>
<h2>CLAIM FOR GOODWILL FOR COW KILLED ON THE RAILWAY.</h2>
<p>A farmer living near the New York Central lost a cow by a
collision with a train on the line; anxious for compensation he
waited upon the manager and after stating his case, the manager
said, &ldquo;I understand she was thin and sick.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Makes no difference,&rdquo; replied the farmer.&nbsp;
&ldquo;She was a cow, and I want pay for her.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;How much?&rdquo; asked the manager.&nbsp; &ldquo;Two
hundred dollars!&rdquo; replied the farmer.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now look
here,&rdquo; said the manager, &ldquo;how much did the cow
weigh?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;About four hundred, I suppose,&rdquo;
said the farmer.&nbsp; &ldquo;And we will say that beef is worth
ten cents a pound on the hoof.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It&rsquo;s
worth a heap more than that on the cow-catcher!&rdquo; replied
the indignant farmer.&nbsp; &ldquo;But we&rsquo;ll call it that,
what then?&nbsp; That makes forty dollars, shall I give you a
cheque for forty dollars?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I tell you I want
two hundred dollars,&rdquo; persisted the farmer.&nbsp;
&ldquo;But how do you make the difference?&nbsp; I&rsquo;m
willing to pay full value, forty dollars.&nbsp; How do you make
one hundred and sixty dollars?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,
sir,&rdquo; replied the farmer, waxing wroth, &ldquo;I want this
railroad to understand that I&rsquo;m going to have something
special for the goodwill of that cow!&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 269--><a name="page269"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 269</span>THE INSURANCE AGENT.</h2>
<p>An agent of an accident insurance company entered a smoking
car on a western railroad train a few days ago, and, approaching
an exceedingly gruff old man, asked him if he did not want to
take out a policy.&nbsp; He was told to get out with his policy,
and passed on.&nbsp; A few minutes afterwards an accident
occurred to the train, causing a fearful shaking to the
cars.&nbsp; The old man jumped up, and seizing a hook at the side
of the car to steady himself, called out, &ldquo;Where is that
insurance man?&rdquo;&nbsp; The question caused a roar of
laughter among the passengers, who for the time forgot their
dangers.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Harper&rsquo;s Weekly</i>,
May 8th, 1880.</p>
<h2>TOUTING FOR BUSINESS AND FRAUDS.</h2>
<p>Sir Edward Watkin observed at the half-yearly meeting of the
South Eastern Railway Company, January, 1881:&mdash;&ldquo;The
result of this compensating law under which the slightest neglect
makes the company liable, and the only thing to be considered is
the amount of damages&mdash;the effect of this unjust law is to
create a new profession compounded of the worst elements of the
present professions&mdash;viz., expert doctors, expert attorneys,
and expert witnesses.&nbsp; You will get a doctor to swear that a
man who has a slight knock on the head to say that he has a
diseased spine, and will never be fit for anything again, and
never be capable of being a man of business or the father of a
family.&nbsp; The result of that is all we can do is to get some
other expert to say exactly the contrary.&nbsp; Then you have a
class of attorneys who get up this business.&nbsp; We had an
accident, I may tell you, at Forrest-hill two years ago.&nbsp;
Well, there was a gentleman&mdash;an attorney in the train.&nbsp;
He went round to all the people in the train and gave them his
card; and, having distributed all the cards in his card-case, he
went round and expressed extreme regret to the others that he
could not give them a card; but he gave them his name as
&lsquo;So and So,&rsquo; his place was in &lsquo;Such a
street,&rsquo; and the &lsquo;No, So and So&rsquo; in the
City.&nbsp; That was touting for business.&nbsp; Now, there is a
very admirable body called the &ldquo;Law
Association.&rdquo;&nbsp; Why does not the Law Association take
hold <!-- page 270--><a name="page270"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 270</span>of cases of that kind?&nbsp; Well,
you saw in the paper the case of Roper <i>v.</i> the South
Eastern.&nbsp; Now that was a peculiar thing.&nbsp; Roper
declared that from an injury he had received in a slight accident
at the Stoney-street signal box, outside Cannon-street he was
utterly incapacitated, and that, for I don&rsquo;t know how many
weeks and months, he was in bed without ceasing.&nbsp; The
doctors, I believe, put pins and needles into him, but he never
flinched, and when the case came before the court we found that
some of the medical experts declared that it was just within the
order of Providence that in twenty years he might get better; but
these witnesses thought that the chances were against it, and
that he would be a hopeless cripple.&nbsp; So evidence was given
as to his income; and the idea was to capitalise it at
&pound;8,000.&nbsp; That man had paid 4d. for his ticket I
think&mdash;I forget the exact amount.&nbsp; Our counsel, the
Attorney-General, went into the thing, with the very able
assistance of Mr. Willis, who deserves every possible
credit.&nbsp; We also had Mr. Le Gros Clarke, the eminent
consulting surgeon of the company, and Dr. Arkwright from the
north of England, and they told us that in their opinion it was a
swindle.&nbsp; And it was a swindle.&nbsp; The result of it was,
the Attorney-General put his foot down upon it, and declared that
it was a swindle, and the jury unanimously non-suited Mr.
Roper.&nbsp; Well, singularly enough, when I say he had paid 4d.,
I think it was not absolutely proved that he was in the train at
all.&nbsp; But although this was a case in which the jury said
there was no case, and where the Judge summed up strongly that it
was a fraud, and where the most eminent surgeon said it was an
absolute delusion altogether, and where, in point of fact,
justice was done entirely to you as regards the verdict, you have
&pound;2,300 to pay for costs of one kind or another in defending
a case of swindling, because when you try to recover the costs
the man becomes bankrupt, and you won&rsquo;t get a farthing; and
I do mean to say I have described a state of the law and practice
that ought to excite the reprobation of every honest man in
England.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>HEROISM OF A DRIVER.</h2>
<p>An engine-driver on the Pennsylvania Railway yesterday saved
the lives of 600 passengers by an extraordinary act of
heroism.&nbsp; The furnace door was opened by the fireman <!--
page 271--><a name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
271</span>to replenish the fire while the train was going at
thirty-five miles an hour.&nbsp; The back draught forced the
flames out so that the car of the locomotive caught fire, and the
engine-driver and the fireman were driven back over the tender
into the passenger car, leaving the engine without control.&nbsp;
The speed increased, and the volume of flame with it.&nbsp; There
was imminent danger that all the carriages would take fire, and
the whole be consumed.&nbsp; The passengers were
panic-stricken.&nbsp; To jump off was certain death; to remain
was to be burned alive.&nbsp; The engine-driver saw that the only
way to save the passengers was to return to the engine and stop
the train.&nbsp; He plunged into the flames, climbed back over
the tender, and reversed the engine.&nbsp; When the train came to
a standstill, he was found in the water-tank, whither he had
climbed, with his clothes entirely burnt off, his face
disfigured, his hands shockingly burned, and his body blistered
so badly that the flesh was stripped off in many places.&nbsp;
Weak and half-conscious he was taken to the hospital, where his
injuries were pronounced serious, with slight chance of
recovery.&nbsp; As soon as the train stopped the flames were
easily extinguished.&nbsp; The unanimous testimony of the
passengers is that the engine-driver saved their lives.&nbsp; His
name is Joseph A. Sieg.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Daily News</i>, Oct. 24th,
1882.</p>
<h2>IT&rsquo;S CROYDON.</h2>
<p>As an early morning train drew up at a station, a pleasant
looking gentleman stepped out on the platform, and, inhaling the
fresh air, enthusiastically observed to the guard,
&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t this invigorating?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;No,
sir, it&rsquo;s Croydon,&rdquo; replied the conscientious
employ&eacute;.</p>
<h2>YOUR TICKET.</h2>
<p>On a Georgia railroad there is a conductor named Snell, a very
clever, sociable man, fond of a joke, quick at repartee, and
faithful in the discharge of his duties.&nbsp; One day as his
train well filled with passengers, was crossing a low bridge over
a wide stream, some four or five feet deep, the bridge broke
down, precipitating the two passenger cars into the stream.&nbsp;
As the passengers emerged from the <!-- page 272--><a
name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 272</span>wreck they
were borne away by the force of the current.&nbsp; Snell had
succeeded in catching hold of some bushes that grew on the bank
of the stream, to which he held for dear life.&nbsp; A passenger
less fortunate came rushing by.&nbsp; Snell extended one hand,
saying, &ldquo;Your ticket, sir; give me your
ticket!&rdquo;&nbsp; The effect of such a dry joke in the midst
of the water may be imagined.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Harper&rsquo;s
Magazine</i>.</p>
<h2>AN OLD SCOTCH LADY ON THE LOSS OF HER BOX.</h2>
<p>Dean Ramsay in his <i>Reminiscences</i>
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;Some curious stories are told of ladies of
this class, as connected with the novelties and excitement of
railway travelling.&nbsp; Missing their luggage, or finding that
something has gone wrong about it, often causing very terrible
distress, and might be amusing, were it not to the sufferer so
severe a calamity.&nbsp; I was much entertained with the
earnestness of this feeling, and the expression of it from an old
Scottish lady, whose box was not forthcoming at the station where
she was to stop.&nbsp; When urged to be patient, her indignant
exclamation was, &ldquo;I can bear ony pairtings that may be
ca&rsquo;ed for in God&rsquo;s providence; but I canna
stan&rsquo; pairtin&rsquo; frae ma claes.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RAILWAY MANNERS.</h2>
<p>A gentleman was travelling by rail from Breslau to Oppeln and
found himself alone with a lady in a second-class
compartment.&nbsp; He vainly endeavoured to enter into
conversation with the other occupant of the carriage; her answers
were invariably curt and snappish.&nbsp; Baffled in his attempts,
he proceeded to light a cigar to while away the time.&nbsp; Then
the lady said to him: &ldquo;I suppose you have never travelled
second-class before, else you would know better
manners.&rdquo;&nbsp; Her travelling companion quietly rejoined:
&ldquo;It is true, I have hitherto only studied the manners of
the first and third-classes.&nbsp; In the first-class the
passengers are rude to the porters, in the third-class the
porters are rude to the passengers.&nbsp; I now discover that in
the second-class the passengers are rude to each
other.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 273--><a name="page273"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 273</span>A BRAVE GIRL.</h2>
<p>Kate Shelley, to whom the Iowa Legislature has just given a
gold medal and $200, is fifteen years old.&nbsp; She lives near
Des Moines, at a point where a railroad crosses a gorge at a
great height.&nbsp; One night during a furious storm the bridge
was carried away.&nbsp; The first the Shelleys knew of it was
when they saw the headlight of a locomotive flash down into the
chasm.&nbsp; Kate climbed to the remains of the bridge with great
difficulty, using an improvised lantern.&nbsp; The
engineer&rsquo;s voice answered her calls, but she could do
nothing for him, and he was drowned.&nbsp; As an express train
was almost due, she then started for the nearest station, a mile
distant.&nbsp; A long, high bridge over the Des Moines River had
to be crossed on the ties&mdash;a perilous thing in stormy
darkness.&nbsp; Kate&rsquo;s light was blown out, and the wind
was so violent that she could not stand, so she crawled across
the bridge, from timber to timber, on her hands and knees.&nbsp;
She got to the station exhausted, but in time to give the
warning, though she fainted immediately.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Detroit Free Press</i>,
May 13th, 1882.</p>
<h2>SHUT UP IN A LARGE BOX.</h2>
<p>The Merv correspondent of the <i>Daily News</i> in a letter
dated the 30th of April, 1881, remarks, &ldquo;I was very much
amused by the description given me by some Tekk&eacute;s of the
Serdar&rsquo;s departure for Russia.&nbsp; It seems that my
informants accompanied him up to the point where the
trans-Caspian railway is in working order.&nbsp; &lsquo;They shut
Tockm&eacute; Serdar and two others in a large box (sanduk) and
locked him in, and then dragged him away across the Sahara.&nbsp;
And,&rsquo; added the speakers, &lsquo;Allah only knows what will
happen to them inside that box.&rsquo;&nbsp; The box, I need
hardly say, was a railway carriage.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AWFUL DEATH ON A RAILROAD BRIDGE.</h2>
<p>A man commonly known as &ldquo;Billy&rdquo; Cooper, of the
town of Van Etten, was walking on the railroad track at a point
not far distant from his home.&nbsp; In crossing the railroad
bridge he made a miss-step, and, slipping, fell between the ties,
but his position was so cramped that he was unable to <!-- page
274--><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
274</span>get out of the way of danger.&nbsp; There, suspended in
that awful manner, with the body dangling below the bridge, he
heard a train thundering along in the distance, approaching every
moment nearer and nearer.&nbsp; No one will ever know the
struggles for life which the poor fellow made, but they were
futile; with arms pinioned to his sides he was unable to signal
the engineer.&nbsp; The train came sweeping on upon its helpless
victim until within a few feet of the spot, when the engineer saw
the man&rsquo;s head and endeavoured to stop his heavy
train.&nbsp; But too late; the moving mass passed over, cutting
his head from the shoulders as clean as it could have been done
by the guillotine itself.&nbsp; Cooper was 60 years of age.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Ithaca</i> (N.Y.)
<i>Journal</i>.</p>
<h2>THAT ACCURSED DRINK.</h2>
<p>An English traveller in Ireland, greedy for information and
always fingering the note-book in his breast pocket, got into the
same railway carriage with a certain Roman Catholic
archbishop.&nbsp; Ignorant of his rank, and only perceiving that
he was a divine, he questioned him pretty closely about the state
of the country, whisky drinking, etc.&nbsp; At last he said,
&ldquo;You are a parish priest, yourself, of course.&rdquo;&nbsp;
His grace drew himself up.&nbsp; &ldquo;I <i>was</i> one,
sir,&rdquo; he answered, with icy gravity.&nbsp; &ldquo;Dear,
dear,&rdquo; was the sympathizing rejoinder.&nbsp; &ldquo;That
accursed drink, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>RAILWAY UP VESUVIUS.</h2>
<p>This railway, the last new project in mountain-climbing, is
now finished.&nbsp; It is 900 metres in length, and will enable
tourists to ascend by it to the very edge of the crater.&nbsp;
The line has been constructed with great care upon a solid
pavement, and it is believed to be perfectly secure from all
incursions of lava.&nbsp; The mode of traction is by two steel
ropes put in motion by a steam engine at the foot of the
cone.&nbsp; The wheels of the carriages are so made as to be free
from any danger of leaving the rails, besides which each carriage
is furnished with an exceedingly powerful automatic brake, which,
should the rope by any chance break, will stop the train almost
instantaneously.&nbsp; One of <!-- page 275--><a
name="page275"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 275</span>the chief
difficulties of the undertaking was the water supply; but that
has been obviated by the formation of two very large reservoirs,
one at the station, the other near the observatory.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Railway Times</i>,
1879.</p>
<h2>EXTRAORDINARY ESCAPE OF BALLOONISTS.</h2>
<p>Yesterday evening, Aug. 6th, 1883, a special train of
&ldquo;empties,&rdquo; which left Charing-cross at 5.55 to pick
up returning excursionists from Gravesend, had some extraordinary
experiences, such as perhaps had hardly ever occurred on a single
journey.&nbsp; On leaving Dartford, where some passengers were
taken up, the train was proceeding towards Greenhithe, when the
driver observed on the line a donkey, which had strayed from an
adjoining field.&nbsp; An endeavour was made to stop the train
before the animal was reached, but without success, and the poor
beast was knocked down and dragged along by the firebox of the
engine.&nbsp; The train was stopped, and with great difficulty
the body of the animal, which was killed, was extricated from
beneath the engine.&nbsp; While this was in progress, a balloon
called the &ldquo;Sunbeam,&rdquo; supposed to come either from
Sydenham or Tunbridge Wells, passed over the line, going in the
direction of Northfleet.&nbsp; The two &aelig;ronauts in the car
were observed to be short of gas, and were throwing out ballast,
but, notwithstanding this, the balloon descended slowly, and when
some distance ahead of the train was, to the horror of the
passengers, seen to drop suddenly into the railway cutting two or
three hundred yards only in advance of the approaching
train.&nbsp; The alarm whistle was sounded, and the brakes put
on, and as the balloon dragged the car and its occupants over the
down line there seemed nothing but certain death for them; but
suddenly the inflated monster, now swaying about wildly, took a
sudden upward flight, and, dragging the car clear of the line,
fell into an adjoining field just when the train was within a
hundred yards of the spot.&nbsp; The escape was marvellous.</p>
<h2><!-- page 276--><a name="page276"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 276</span>PULLING A TOOTH BY STEAM.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Dummy,&rdquo; is a deaf mute newsman on the Long Island
Railroad.&nbsp; Lately he had suffered much in mind and body from
an aching tooth.&nbsp; He did not like dentists, but he resolved
that the tooth must go.&nbsp; He procured a piece of twine, and
tied one end of it to the tooth and the other end to the rear of
an express train.&nbsp; When the train started, Dummy ran along
the platform a short distance, and then dropped suddenly on his
knees.&nbsp; The engine whistled, and dummy cried, but the train
took the tooth.</p>
<h2>A HEAVY SLEEPER.</h2>
<p>It happens, in numerous instances, that virtuous resolves are
made overnight with respect to early rising, which resolves, when
put to the test, are doomed only to be broken.&nbsp; Some years
ago a clergyman, who had occasion to visit the West of England on
very important business, took up his quarters, late at night, at
a certain hotel adjacent to a railway, with a view of starting by
the early train on the following morning.&nbsp; Previous to
retiring to rest, he called the &ldquo;boots&rdquo; to him, told
him that he wished to be called for the early train, and said
that it was of the utmost importance that he should not oversleep
himself.&nbsp; The reverend gentleman at the same time confessed
that he was a very heavy sleeper, and as there would be probably
the greatest difficulty in awakening him, he (the
&ldquo;boots&rdquo;) was to resort to any means he thought proper
in order to effect his object.&nbsp; And, further, that if the
business were effectually accomplished, the fee should be a
liberal one.&nbsp; The preliminaries being thus settled, the
clergyman sought his couch, and &ldquo;boots&rdquo; left the room
with the air of a determined man.&nbsp; At a quarter to five on
the following morning, &ldquo;boots&rdquo; walked straight to
&ldquo;No. twenty-three,&rdquo; and commenced a vigorous rattling
and hammering at the door, but the only answer he received was
&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; uttered in a very faint and drowsy
tone.&nbsp; Five minutes later, &ldquo;boots&rdquo; approached
the door, placing his ear at the keyhole, and detecting no other
sound than a most unearthly snore, he unceremoniously entered the
room, and laying his brawny hands upon the prostrate form of the
sleeper, shook <!-- page 277--><a name="page277"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 277</span>him violently and long.&nbsp; This
attack was replied to by a testy observation that he &ldquo;knew
all about it, and there was not the least occasion to shake him
so.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Boots&rdquo; thereupon left the room,
somewhat doubtingly, and only to return in a few minutes
afterwards and find the Rev. Mr. &mdash; as sound asleep as
ever.&nbsp; This time the clothes were stripped off, and a
species of baptismal process was adopted, familiarly known as
&ldquo;cold pig.&rdquo;&nbsp; At this assault the enraged
gentleman sat bolt upright in bed, and with much other bitter
remark, denounced &ldquo;boots&rdquo; as a barbarous
follow.&nbsp; An explanation was then come to, and the drowsy man
professed he understood it all, and was <i>about</i> to
arise.&nbsp; But the gentleman who officiated at the &mdash;
hotel, having had some experience in these matters, placed no
reliance upon the promise he had just received, and shortly
visited &ldquo;No. twenty-three&rdquo; again.&nbsp; There he
found that the occupant certainly had got up, but it was only to
replace the bedclothes and to lie down again.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Boots&rdquo; now felt convinced that this was one of those
cases which required prompt and vigorous handling, and without
more ado, therefore, he again stripped off the upper clothing,
and seizing hold of the under sheet, he dragged its depository
bodily from off the bed.&nbsp; The sleeping man, sensible of the
unusual motion, and dreamily beholding a stalwart form bent over
him, became impressed with the idea that a personal attack was
being made upon him, probably with a view to robbery and
murder.&nbsp; Under this conviction, he, in his descent, grasped
&ldquo;boots&rdquo; firmly by the throat, the result being that
both bodies thus came to the floor with a crash.&nbsp; Here the
two rolled about for some seconds in all the agonies of a death
struggle, until the unwonted noise and the cries of the
assailants brought several persons from all parts of the hotel,
and they, seeing two men rolling frantically about in each
other&rsquo;s arms, and with the hand of each grasping the
other&rsquo;s throat, rushed in and separated them.&nbsp; An
explanation was of course soon given.&nbsp; The son of the church
was effectually awakened, he rewarded the &ldquo;boots,&rdquo;
and went off by the train.</p>
<p>Fortune subsequently smiled upon &ldquo;boots,&rdquo; and in
the course of time he became proprietor of a first-rate
hotel.&nbsp; In the interval the Rev. Mr. &mdash; had risen from
a humble <!-- page 278--><a name="page278"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 278</span>curate to the grade of a dean.&nbsp;
Having occasion to visit the town of &mdash;, he put up at the
house of the ex-boots.&nbsp; The two men saw and recognized each
other, and the affair of the early train reverted to the mind of
both.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was a most fortunate circumstance,&rdquo;
said the dean, &ldquo;that I did not oversleep myself on that
morning, for from the memorable journey that followed, I date my
advancement in the Church.&nbsp; But,&rdquo; he continued, with
an expression that betokened some tender recollection, &ldquo;if
I ever should require you to wake me for an early train again,
would you mind placing a mattress or feather-bed on the
floor?&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>The Railway
Traveller&rsquo;s Handy Book</i>.</p>
<h2>A MAD ENGINE-DRIVER.</h2>
<p>A startling event happened at an early hour yesterday morning
(Jan. 8th, 1884), in connection with the mail train from Brest,
which is due in Paris at ten minutes to five o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp;
Whilst proceeding at full speed the passengers observed the
brakes to be put on with such suddenness that fears were
entertained that a collision was imminent, especially as the spot
at which the train was drawn up was in utter darkness.&nbsp; Upon
the guard reaching the engine he found the stoker endeavouring to
overpower the driver, who had evidently lost his reason.&nbsp;
After blocking the line the guard joined the stoker, and
succeeded in securing the unfortunate man, but not until he had
offered a desperate resistance.&nbsp; The locomotive was then put
in motion, the nearest station was reached without further
misadventure, and the driver was placed in custody.&nbsp; The
train ultimately arrived in Paris after two hours&rsquo;
delay.</p>
<h2>A MEXICAN CHIEF&rsquo;S RAILWAY IMPRESSIONS.</h2>
<p>Steam and gunpowder have often proved the most eloquent
apostles of civilization, but the impressiveness of their
arguments was, perhaps, never more strikingly illustrated than at
the little railway station of Gallegos, in Northern Mexico.&nbsp;
When the first passenger train crossed the viaduct, and the
Wizards of the North had covered the festive tables with the
dainties of all zones, the governor of Durango was not the most
distinguished visitor; for <!-- page 279--><a
name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 279</span>among the
spectators on the platform the natives were surprised to
recognise the Cabo Ventura, the senior chief of a hill-tribe,
which had never formally recognised the sovereignty of the
Mexican Republic.&nbsp; The Cabo, indeed, considered himself the
lawful ruler of the entire <i>Comarca</i>, and preserved a
document in which the Virey Gonzales, <i>en nombre del
Rey</i>&mdash;in the name of the King&mdash;appointed him
&ldquo;Protector of all the loyal tribes of Castro and Sierra
Mocha.&rdquo;&nbsp; His diploma had an arch&aelig;ological value,
and several amateurs had made him a liberal offer, but the old
chieftain would as soon have sold his scalp.&nbsp; His soul lived
in the past.&nbsp; All the evils of the age he ascribed to the
demerits of the traitors who had raised the banner of revolt
against the lawful king; and as for the countrymen of Mr. Gould,
the intrusive <i>Yangueses</i>, his vocabulary hardly approached
the measure of his contempt when he called them <i>herexes y
combusteros</i>&mdash;heretics and humbugs.</p>
<p>&ldquo;But it cannot be denied,&rdquo; Yakoob Khan wrote to
his father, &ldquo;that it has pleased Allah to endow those
sinners with a good deal of brains;&rdquo; and the voice of
nature gradually forced the Cabo to a similar conclusion, till he
resolved to come and see for himself.</p>
<p>When the screech of the iron Behemoth at last resounded at the
lower end of the valley, and the train swept visibly around the
curve of the river-gap, the natives set up a yell that waked up
the mountain echoes; men and boys waved their hats and jumped to
and fro, in a state of the wildest excitement.&nbsp; Only the old
Cabo stood stock-still.&nbsp; His gaze was riveted upon the
phenomenon that came thundering up the valley; his keen eye
enabled him to estimate the rate of speed, the trend of the
up-grade, the breadth, the length, the height of the car.&nbsp;
When the train approached the station, the crowd surged back in
affright, but the Cabo stood his ground, and as soon as the cars
stopped he stepped down upon the track.&nbsp; He examined the
wheels, tapped the axles, and tried to move the lever; and when
the engine backed up for water, he closely watched the process of
locomotion, and walked to the end of the last car to ascertain
the length of the train.&nbsp; He then returned to the platform
and sat down, covering his face with both hands.</p>
<p>Two hours later the Governor of Durango found him in still the
same position.</p>
<p><!-- page 280--><a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
280</span>&ldquo;Hallo, Cabo,&rdquo; he called out, &ldquo;how do
you like this?&nbsp; What do you think now of America
Nueva?&rdquo;&nbsp; (&ldquo;New America,&rdquo; a collective term
for the republics of the American continent).</p>
<p>The chieftain looked up.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>Sabe
Dios</i>&mdash;the gods know&mdash;Senor Commandante, but
<i>I</i> know this much: With Old America it&rsquo;s all
up.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is it?&nbsp; Well, look here: would you now like to
sell that old diploma?&nbsp; I still offer you the same
price.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The Cabo put his hand in his bosom, drew forth a
leather-shrouded old parchment, and handed it to his
interlocutor.&nbsp; &ldquo;Vengale, Usted&mdash;it&rsquo;s
worthless and you are welcome to keep it.&rdquo;&nbsp;
Nevertheless, he connived when the Governor slipped a gold piece
into the pouch and put it upon his knees, minus the document.</p>
<p>But just before the train started, the Governor heard his name
called, and stepped out upon the platform of the palace-car, when
he saw the old chieftain coming up the track.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I owe you a debt, senor,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;<i>y le
pagar&egrave; en consejo</i>, I want to pay it off in good
advice: Beware of those strangers.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What strangers?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The caballeros who invented this machine.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is that what you came to tell me?&rdquo; laughed the
Governor as the train started.</p>
<p>The old Cabo waved his hand in a military salute.&nbsp;
&ldquo;<i>Estamos ajustade</i>, Senor Commandante, this squares
our account.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Atlantic Monthly</i>,
Jan., 1884.</p>
<h2>MY ORDERS.</h2>
<p>&ldquo;Ticket, sir!&rdquo; said an inspector at a railway
terminus in the City to a gentleman, who, having been a season
ticket holder for some time, believed his face was so well known
that there was no need for him to show his ticket.&nbsp;
&ldquo;My face is my ticket,&rdquo; replied the gentleman a
little annoyed.&nbsp; &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said the inspector,
rolling back his wristband, and displaying a most powerful wrist,
&ldquo;well, my orders are to punch all tickets passing on to
this platform.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 281--><a name="page281"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 281</span>LUGGAGE IN RAILWAY CARRIAGES.</h2>
<p>The question of the liability of railway companies in the
event of personal accident through parcels falling from a rack in
the compartments of passenger trains has been raised in the
Midlands.&nbsp; In December last, a tailor named Round was
travelling from Dudley to Stourbridge, and, on the train being
drawn up at Round Oak Station, a hamper was jerked from the racks
and fell with such force as to cause him serious injury.&nbsp;
Certain medical charges were incurred, and Mr. Round alleged that
he was unable to attend to his business for five weeks in
consequence of the accident.&nbsp; He therefore claimed &pound;50
by way of compensation.&nbsp; Sir Rupert Kettle, before whom the
case was tried, decided that the company was not liable, and
could not be held responsible for whatever happened in respect to
luggage directly under the control of passengers.&nbsp; The case
is one of some public interest, inasmuch as a parcel falling from
a rack is not an uncommon incident in a railway journey.&nbsp;
Moreover, the hamper in question belonged, not to the plaintiff,
but to a glass engraver, and contained four empty bottles, two
razors, and a couple of knives.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Daily News</i>, March
29th, 1884.</p>
<h2>EFFECTS OF CONSTANT RAILWAY TRAVELLING.</h2>
<p>A writer in <i>Cassell&rsquo;s Magazine</i>
remarks:&mdash;&ldquo;We hear individuals now and then talking of
the ease with which the season-ticket holder journeys backwards
and forwards daily from Brighton.&nbsp; By the young, healthy
man, no doubt, the journey is done without fatigue; but, after a
certain time of life, the process of being conveyed by express
fifty miles night and morning is anything but refreshing.&nbsp;
The shaking and jolting of the best constructed carriage is not
such as we experience in a coach on an ordinary road; but is made
up of an infinite series of slight concussions, which jar the
spinal column and keep the muscles of the back and sides in
continued action.&rdquo;&nbsp; Dr. Radcliff, who has witnessed
many cases of serious injury to the nervous system from this
cause, contributed the following conclusive case some years ago
to the pages of the <i>Lancet</i>:&mdash;&ldquo;A hale and stout
gentleman, aged sixty-three, came to me complaining <!-- page
282--><a name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 282</span>of
inability to sleep, numbness in limbs, great depression, and all
the symptoms of approaching paralytic seizure.&nbsp; He was very
actively engaged in large monetary transactions, which were
naturally a source of anxiety.&nbsp; He had a house in town; but,
having been advised by the late Doctor Todd to live at Brighton,
he had taken a house there, and travelled to and fro daily by the
express train.&nbsp; The symptoms of which he complained began to
appear about four months after taking up his residence at
Brighton, and he had undergone a variety of treatment without
benefit, and was just hesitating about trying hom&aelig;opathy
when I saw him.&nbsp; I advised him to give up the journey for a
month, and make the experiment of living quietly in town.&nbsp;
In a fortnight his rest was perfectly restored, and the other
symptoms rapidly disappeared, so that at the end of the month he
was as well as ever again.&nbsp; After three months, he was
persuaded to join his family at Brighton, and resumed his daily
journeys.&nbsp; In a few days his rest became broken and in two
months all the old symptoms returned.&nbsp; By giving up the
journeys and again residing in town, he was once more perfectly
restored; but, it being the end of the season, when the house at
Brighton could not readily be disposed of, and yielding to the
wishes of his family, he again resumed his journeys.&nbsp; In a
month&rsquo;s time he was rendered so seriously unwell that he
hesitated no longer in taking up his permanent abode in town; and
since that time&mdash;now more than two years ago&mdash;he has
enjoyed perfect health.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>AN ELECTRIC TRAMWAY INCIDENT.</h2>
<p>The following appeared in the <i>Irish Times</i> (Dublin,
1884): &ldquo;It is not generally known that the country people
along the line of the electric railway make strange uses of the
insulated rails, which are the medium of electricity on this
tramway, in connection with one of which an extraordinary and
very remarkable occurrence is reported.&nbsp; People have no
objection to touch the rail and receive a smart shock, which is,
however, harmless, at least so far.&nbsp; On Thursday evening a
ploughman, returning from work, stood upon this rail in order to
mount his horse.&nbsp; The rail is elevated on insulators 18
inches above the level of the tramway.&nbsp; <!-- page 283--><a
name="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 283</span>As soon as
the man placed his hands upon the back of the animal it received
a shock, which at once brought it down, and falling against the
rail it died instantly.&nbsp; The remarkable part is, that the
current of electricity which proved fatal to the brute must have
passed through the body of the man and proved harmless to
him.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>DUTY IN DISGUISE.</h2>
<p>A gate-keeper in the employ of the Hessian Railway Company was
recently the hero of an amusing incident.&nbsp; His wife being
ill, he went himself to milk the goat; but the stubborn creature
would not let him come near it, as it had always been accustomed
to have this operation performed by its mistress.&nbsp; After
many fruitless efforts, he at length decided to put on his
wife&rsquo;s clothes.&nbsp; The experiment succeeded admirably;
but the man had not time to doff his disguise before a train
approached, and the gatekeeper ran to his accustomed post.&nbsp;
His appearance produced quite a sensation among the officials of
the passing train.&nbsp; The case was reported and an inquiry
instituted, which however resulted in his favour, as the railway
authorities granted the honest gate-keeper a gratuity of ten
marks for the faithful discharge of his duties.</p>
<h2>THE MARQUIS OF HARTINGTON ON GEORGE STEPHENSON.</h2>
<p>The Marquis of Hartington, when laying the foundation stone of
a public hall to be erected in memory of the inventor and
practical introducer of railway locomotion, expressed himself as
follows:&mdash;&ldquo;That almost all the progress which this
country has made in the last half-century is mainly due to the
development of the railway system.&nbsp; All the other vast
developments of the power of steam, all the developments of
manufacturing and mining industry would have availed but little
for the greatness and prosperity of this country&mdash;in fact
they could hardly have existed at all if there had been wanting
those internal communications which have been furnished by the
locomotive engine to railways brought into use by
Stephenson.&nbsp; The changes which have been wrought in the
history of our country by the invention, the industry, and
perseverance of one man <!-- page 284--><a
name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 284</span>are
something that we may call astounding.&nbsp; There are some
things which exceed the dreams of poetry and romance.&nbsp; We
are justly proud of our imperial possessions, but the steam
engine, and especially the locomotive steam-engine, the invention
of George Stephenson&mdash;has not only increased the number of
the Queen&rsquo;s subjects by millions, but has added more
millions to her Majesty&rsquo;s revenues than have been produced
by any tax ever invented by any statesman.&nbsp; Comfort and
happiness, prosperity and plenty, have been brought to every one
of her Majesty&rsquo;s subjects by this invention in far greater
abundance than has ever been produced by any law, the production
of the wisest and most patriotic Parliament.&nbsp; The results of
the career of a man who began life as a herd boy, and who up to
eighteen did not know how to read or write, and yet was able to
confer such vast benefits upon his country and mankind for all
time, is worthy of a national and noble memorial.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>THE STEPHENSON CENTENARY.</h2>
<p>Of all celebrations in the North of England there was never
the like of the centenary of the birth-day of George Stephenson,
June 9th, 1881.&nbsp; The enthusiastic crowds of people assembled
to honour the occasion were never before so numerous on any
public holiday.&nbsp; Sir William Armstrong, C.B., in his speech
at the great banquet remarked:&mdash;&ldquo;The memory of a great
man now dead is a solemn subject for a toast, and I approach the
task of proposing it with a full sense of its gravity.&nbsp; We
are met to celebrate the birth of George Stephenson, which took
place just 100 years ago&mdash;a date which nearly coincides with
that at which the genius of Watt first gave practical importance
to the steam-engine.&nbsp; Up to that time the inventive
faculties of man had lain almost dormant, but with the advent of
the steam-engine there commenced that splendid series of
discoveries and inventions which have since, to use the words of
Dr. Bruce, revolutionised the state of the world.&nbsp; Amongst
these the most momentous in its consequences to the human race is
the railway system&mdash;(cheers)&mdash;and with that system
including the locomotive engine as its essential element, the
name of George Stephenson will ever be pre-eminently
associated.&nbsp; In saying this, I do not mean to ignore the
<!-- page 285--><a name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
285</span>important parts played by others in the development of
the railway system; but it is not my duty on this occasion to
review the history of that system and to assign to each person
concerned his proper share of the general credit.&nbsp; To do
this would be an invidious task, and out of place at a festival
held in honour of George Stephenson only.&nbsp; I shall,
therefore, pass over all names but his, not even making an
exception in favour of his distinguished son.&nbsp;
(Cheers.)&nbsp; It seldom or never happens that any great
invention can be exclusively attributed to any one man; but it is
generally the case that amongst those who contribute to the
ultimate success there is one conspicuous figure that towers
above all the rest, and such is the figure which George
Stephenson presents in relation to the railway system.&nbsp;
(Cheers.)&nbsp; To be sensible of the benefits we have derived
from railways and locomotives let us consider for a moment what
would be our position if they were taken from us.&nbsp; The
present business of the country could not be carried on, the
present population could not be maintained, property would sink
to half its value&mdash;(hear, hear)&mdash;and instead of
prosperity and progress we should have collapse and retrogression
on all sides.&nbsp; (Cheers.)&nbsp; What would Newcastle be if it
ceased to be a focus of railways?&nbsp; How would London be
supplied if it had to fall back upon turnpike roads and horse
traffic?&nbsp; In short, England as it is could not exist without
railways and locomotives; and it is only our familiarity with
them that blunts our sense of their prodigious importance.&nbsp;
As to the future effects of railways, it is easy to see that they
are destined to diffuse industrial populations over those vast
unoccupied areas of the globe that abound in natural resources,
and only wait for facilities of access and transport to become
available for the wants of man.&nbsp; There is yet scope for an
enormous extension of railways all over the world, and the fame
of Stephenson will continue to grow as railways continue to
spread.&nbsp; (Loud cheers.)&nbsp; But I should do scant justice
to the memory of George Stephenson if I dwelt only on the results
of his achievements.&nbsp; Many a great reputation has been
marred by faults of character, but this was not the case with
George Stephenson.&nbsp; His manly simplicity and frankness, and
his kindly nature won for him the respect <!-- page 286--><a
name="page286"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 286</span>and esteem
of all who knew him both in the earlier and later periods of his
career&mdash;(cheers)&mdash;but the prominent feature in his
character was his indomitable perseverance, which broke down all
obstacles, and converted even his failures and disappointments
into stepping stones to success.&nbsp; It was not the desire for
wealth that actuated him in the pursuit of his objects, but it
was a noble enthusiasm, far more conducive to great ends than the
hope of gain, that carried him forward to his goal.&nbsp;
Unselfish enthusiasm such as his always gives a tone of heroism
to a character, and heroism above all things commands the homage
of mankind.&nbsp; Newcastle may well be proud of its connection
with George Stephenson, and the proceedings of this day testify
how much his memory is cherished in this his native
district.&nbsp; Any memorial dedicated to him would be
appropriate to this occasion, and if such memorial were connected
with scientific instruction it would be in harmony with his
well-known appreciation of the value of scientific education, and
of the sacrifices he made to give his son the advantage of such
an education.&nbsp; (Cheers.)&nbsp; I now, gentlemen, have to
propose to you the toast which has been committed to me, and
which is &lsquo;Honour to the memory of George Stephenson, and
may the college to be erected to his memory prove worthy of his
fame.&rsquo;&nbsp; I must ask you to drink this toast standing;
and consider that the birth of Stephenson is a subject of
jubilation.&nbsp; I think that although he is dead we may drink
that toast with hearty cheering.&nbsp; (Hear, hear, and loud
cheers.)</p>
<p>Mr. George Robert Stephenson, who was warmly cheered on rising
to respond to the toast, said: &ldquo;Mr. Mayor and
gentlemen,&mdash;Let me, in the first place thank Sir William
Armstrong for the many kind words he has uttered in honour of the
memory of George Stephenson.&nbsp; It is true that he was, as Sir
William said, one of the most kind-hearted and unselfish men that
ever lived; but I suppose that no man has had a more up-hill
struggle during the present century.&nbsp; (Cheers).&nbsp; I have
now in my possession documents that would show in his early life
the extraordinary and peculiar nature of the opposition that was
brought against him as a poor man.&nbsp; He was opposed by many
of the leading engineers of the day; some of these men using <!--
page 287--><a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
287</span>language which, it is not incorrect to say, was not
only injurious but wicked.&nbsp; This is not the proper occasion
to weary you with a long speech, but with the view of showing the
peculiar mode of engineers reporting against each other, I could
very much wish, with your permission, to read a few sentences
from documents that I have in my possession, dating back to
1823.&nbsp; (Hear, hear).&nbsp; This, gentlemen, will clearly
show the sort of opposition I have alluded to.&nbsp; It occurs at
the end of a report by an opponent upon some projected work on
which the four brothers were engaged:&mdash;&lsquo;But we cannot
conclude without saying that such a mechanic as Mr. Stephenson,
who can neither calculate, nor lay his designs on paper, or
distinguish the effect from the cause, may do very well for
repairing engines when they are constructed, but for building new
ones, he must be at great loss to his employers, from the many
alterations that will take place in engine-building, when he goes
by what we call the rule of thumb.&rsquo;&nbsp; In a preceding
sentence he is taunted with being like the fly going round on a
crank axle, and shouting &lsquo;What a dust I am kicking
up.&rsquo;&nbsp; Gentlemen, the dust that George Stephenson
kicked up formed itself into a cloud, and in every part of the
globe to which it reached it carried with it and planted the
seeds of civilization and wealth.&nbsp; Notwithstanding the hard
and illiberal treatment to which he was exposed, he was not
beaten; on the contrary, by his genius and his never-failing
spirit, he raised himself above the level of the very men who
opposed every effort he made towards the advancement of
engineering science&mdash;efforts which have resulted in a vast
improvement of our means for extracting the valuable products of
the earth, and also of our means of conveying them at a cheap
rate to distant markets.&nbsp; It is not too much to say that
George Stephenson headed a movement by which alone could
employment have been found for an ever-increasing
population.&rdquo;</p>
<p>In the town of Chesterfield the Centenary was celebrated most
befittingly.&nbsp; It was there the father of railways spent his
latter days, and there he died.&nbsp; Although there was not such
a flood of oratory as at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, many interesting
speeches were delivered in connection with the event.&nbsp; We
give some extracts from an address delivered <!-- page 288--><a
name="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 288</span>by the Rev.
Samuel C. Sarjant, B.A., Curate-in-Charge at that
time&mdash;delivered at Holy Trinity Church, Chesterfield.&nbsp;
An address which, for ability, nice discrimination of thought,
and true appreciation of the subject, would not disgrace any
pulpit in Christendom:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;We meet to-day for the highest of all purposes, the
worship of Almighty God.&nbsp; But we also meet to show our
regard for the memory of one of the great and gifted dead.&nbsp;
It is no small distinction of this town that the last days of
George Stephenson were spent in it.&nbsp; And it adds to the
interest of this church that it contains his mortal
remains.&nbsp; With little internally to appeal to the eye, or to
gratify taste, this church has yet a spell which will draw
visitors from every part of the world.&nbsp; Men will come hither
from all lands to look with reverence upon the simple resting
place of him who was the father of the Locomotive and of the
Railway system.&nbsp; And perhaps the naked simplicity which
marks that spot is in keeping with a life, the grandeur of which
was due solely to the man himself, and not to outward helps and
circumstances . . .</p>
<p>&ldquo;Toil has its roll of heroes, but few, if any, of them
are greater than he whose birth we commemorate to-day.&nbsp; He
was pre-eminently a self-made man, one who &lsquo;achieved&rsquo;
greatness by his own exertions.&nbsp; Granting that he was gifted
with powers of body and mind above the average, these were his
only advantages.&nbsp; The rest was due to hard work, patient,
persistent effort.&nbsp; He had neither wealth, schooling,
patrons, nor favouring circumstances.&nbsp; He comes into the
arena like a naked athlete to wrestle in his own strength with
the difficulties before him.&nbsp; And these were many and
great!</p>
<p>&ldquo;I need not dwell upon the details of a life which is so
well known to most, and to some present so vividly, from personal
intercourse and friendship.&nbsp; We all know what a battle he
fought, how nobly and well, first striving by patient plodding
effort to remove his own ignorance, cheerfully bending himself to
every kind of work that came in his way, and seeking to gain not
only manual expertness, but a mastery of principles.&nbsp; We
know how he went on toiling, observing, experimenting, saying
little&mdash;for he was <!-- page 289--><a
name="page289"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 289</span>never given
to the &lsquo;talk of the lips&rsquo;&mdash;but doing much,
letting slip no chance of getting knowledge, and of turning it to
practical account.&nbsp; He was one of those, who</p>
<blockquote><p>While his companions slept<br />
Was toiling upwards in the night.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And in due time his quiet work bore fruit.&nbsp; He invented a
safety-lamp which alone should have entitled him to the gratitude
of posterity.&nbsp; He then set himself to improve the
locomotive, and fit it for the future which his prescient mind
discerned, and on a fair field he vanquished all
competitors.&nbsp; He then sought to adapt the roadway to the
engine and make it fit for its new work.&nbsp; And then, hardest
task of all, he had to convince the public that railway
travelling was a possible thing; that it could he made safe,
cheap, and rapid.&nbsp; In doing this he was compelled to design,
plan, and execute almost everything with his own mind and
hand.&nbsp; All classes and interests were against him, the
engineers, the land owners, the legislature, and the
public.&nbsp; He had to encounter the phantoms of ignorance and
fear, the solid resistance of vested interests, and the
bottomless quagmires of Chat Moss.&nbsp; But he triumphed!&nbsp;
And it was a well-earned reward as he looked down from his
pleasant retreat at Tapton upon the iron bands which glistened
below, to know that they were part of a network which was
spreading over the whole land and becoming the one highway of
transit and commerce.&nbsp; Nor was this all his
satisfaction.&nbsp; He knew that Europe and America were
welcoming the railway, and that it was promising to link together
the whole civilized world.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Of the &lsquo;profit&rsquo; of his labours to humanity
I scarcely venture to speak, since it cannot possibly be told in
a few words.&nbsp; The railway system has revolutionised
society.&nbsp; It has powerfully affected every class, every
interest and department of life.&nbsp; It has given an incredible
impulse to commerce, quickened human thought, created a new
language, new habits, tastes and pleasures.&nbsp; It has opened
up fields of industry and enterprise inaccessible and unknown
before.&nbsp; It has cheapened the necessaries and comforts of
life, enhanced the value of property, promoted the fellowship of
class with class, and brought unnumbered benefits and advantages
within the reach of all.&nbsp; And it is yet, as to the world at
large, but in the infancy of its development.</p>
<p><!-- page 290--><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
290</span>&ldquo;How much, then, do we owe, under God, to George
Stephenson.&nbsp; How much, not merely to his energy and
diligence, but to his courage, patience, and uprightness?&nbsp;
For these qualities, quite as much as gifts of genius and
insight, contributed to his final success.&nbsp; He was crowned
because he strove &lsquo;lawfully.&rsquo;&nbsp; His patience was
as great in waiting as his energy in working.&nbsp; He did not
work from greed or self-glorification; and therefore the hour of
success, when it came, found him the same modest, self-restrained
man as before.&nbsp; He neither overrated the value of the system
which he had set up, nor made it a means of speculation and
gambling.&nbsp; He was a man of sterling honesty and
uprightness&mdash;of self-control, simple in his habits and
tastes, given to plain living and high thinking.&nbsp; And yet he
was most kindly, genial, and cheery, of strong affections,
considerate of his workpeople, tender to his family, full of love
to little children and pet animals, brimming with fun and good
humour.&nbsp; He had the gentleness of all noble natures, the
largeness of mind and heart which could recognise ability and
worth in others, and give rivals their due.&nbsp; For the young
inventor, or for such of his helpers as showed marked diligence
or promise, he had ready sympathy and aid.&nbsp; Nor ought we to
pass unnoticed his love of nature and of natural beauty.&nbsp;
Strong throughout his whole life, this was especially conspicuous
at its close.&nbsp; Such leisure as his last days brought was
spent amidst flowers and fruits, gardens and greeneries which he
had planned and filled, and from the midst of whose treasures he
could look forth over venerable trees and green fields upon a
wide and varied landscape.&nbsp; And yet, even in this
relaxation, the old energy and earnestness of purpose asserted
themselves.&nbsp; He toiled and experimented, watching the growth
of his plants and flowers with more than professional
pains.&nbsp; Nor is it improbable that the ardour which led him
to confine himself for hours together in a heated and unhealthy
atmosphere led to his fatal illness.</p>
<p>&ldquo;We are bound, then, to mark and admit how much the
moral element in the worker contributed to his success, and to
the freshness of the regard which is felt for his memory and
name.&nbsp; England is proud of his works, but prouder still of
the man who did them.&nbsp; Far different would have <!-- page
291--><a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
291</span>been the result if impatience, ungenerousness, and love
of greed had marred his life and work.&nbsp; The tributes of
respect which we gladly lay upon his tomb to-day, would probably
have been placed elsewhere.&rdquo;</p>
<h2>REMARKABLE COINCIDENCES.</h2>
<p>Many years ago the editor of this book and an elderly lady,
the widow of a well-known farmer, took tickets from Little Bytham
for Edenham in Lincolnshire.&nbsp; They were the only passengers,
and as the railway passed for nearly two miles through
Grimsthorpe park, she asked the driver if he would stop at a
certain spot which would have saved us both perhaps
half-a-mile&rsquo;s walk.&nbsp; The request was politely
refused.&nbsp; After going a good distance the train was suddenly
pulled up.&nbsp; I opened the window and found it had stopped at
the very spot we desired.&nbsp; The stoker came running by with a
fine hare which the train had run over.&nbsp; I said we can get
out now and he said, Oh yes.&nbsp; And so through this strange
misadventure to poor pussy our walk was much shortened.</p>
<p>Some years before the above occurrence I was travelling by the
early morning mail train from the Midlands to the West of
England.&nbsp; At Taunton I perceived a crowd of persons gathered
at the front of the train.&nbsp; I went forward and saw a corpse
was being removed from the van to a hearse outside the
station.&nbsp; On reading the inscription on the coffin plate I
was somewhat taken aback to find my own name.&nbsp; So Richard
Pike living and Richard Pike dead had been travelling by the same
train.&nbsp; Perhaps rarely, if ever, have two more singular
circumstances occurred in connection with railway travelling.</p>
<h2>LOSS OF TASTE.</h2>
<p>Serjeant Ballantine in his <i>Experiences of a
Barrister&rsquo;s Life</i>, says:&mdash;&ldquo;There was a
singular physical fact connected with him (Sir Edward Belcher),
he had entirely lost the sense of taste; this he frequently
complained of, and could not account for.&nbsp; A friend of mine,
an eminent member of the Bar, suffers in the same way, but is
able to trace the phenomenon to the shock that he suffered in a
railway collision.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 292--><a name="page292"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 292</span>INGENIOUS SWINDLING.</h2>
<p>A party of gentlemen who had been to Doncaster to see the St.
Leger run, came back to the station and secured a
compartment.&nbsp; As the train was about to start, a
well-dressed and respectable looking man entered and took the
only vacant seat.&nbsp; Shortly after they had started, he said,
&ldquo;Well, gentlemen, I suppose you have all been to the races
to-day?&rdquo;&nbsp; They replied they had.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;I have been, and
have unfortunately lost every penny I had, and have nothing to
pay my fare home, but if you promise not to split on me, I have a
plan that I think will carry me through.&rdquo;&nbsp; They all
consented.&nbsp; He then asked the gentleman that sat opposite
him if he would kindly lend him his ticket for a moment; on its
being handed to him he took it and wrote his own name and address
on the back of the ticket and returned it to the owner.&nbsp;
Nothing more was said until they arrived at the place where they
collected tickets; being the races, the train was very crowded,
and the ticket-collector was in a great hurry; the gentlemen all
pushed their tickets into his hands.&nbsp; The collector then
asked the gentleman without a ticket for his, who replied he had
already given it him.&nbsp; The collector stoutly denied
it.&nbsp; The gentleman protested he had, and, moreover, would
not be insulted, and ordered him to call the
station-master.&nbsp; On the station-master coming, he said he
wished to report the collector for insulting him.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
make a practice to always write my name and address on the back
of my ticket, and if your man looks at his tickets he will find
one of that description.&rdquo;&nbsp; The man looked and, of
course, found the ticket, whereupon he said he must have been
mistaken, and both he and the stationmaster apologised, and asked
him not to report the case further.</p>
<h2>DANGEROUS LUGGAGE.</h2>
<p>Complaints are sometimes made of the want of due respect paid
on the part of porters to passengers&rsquo; luggage.&nbsp; It
appears that occasionally a like lack of caution is manifested by
owners to their own property.&nbsp; It is said that on a train
<!-- page 293--><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
293</span>lately on a western railway in America, some passengers
were discussing the carriage of explosives.&nbsp; One man
contended that it was impossible to prevent or detect this; if
people were not allowed to ship nitro-glycerine or dynamite
legitimately, they&rsquo;d smuggle it through their
baggage.&nbsp; This assertion was contradicted emphatically, and
the passenger was laughed at, flouted, and ignominiously put to
scorn.&nbsp; Rising up in his wrath, he produced a capacious
valise from under the seat, and, slapping it emphatically on the
cover, said, &ldquo;Oh, you think they don&rsquo;t, eh?&nbsp;
Don&rsquo;t carry explosives in cars?&nbsp; What&rsquo;s
this?&rdquo; and he gave the valise a resounding thump,
&ldquo;Thar&rsquo;s two hundred good dynamite cartridges in that
air valise; sixty pounds of deadly material; enough to blow this
yar train and the whole township from Cook County to
Chimborazo.&nbsp; Thar&rsquo;s dynamite enough,&rdquo; he
continued; but he was without an auditor, for the passengers had
fled incontinently, and he could have sat down upon twenty-two
seats if he had wanted to.&nbsp; And the respectful way in which
the baggage men on the out-going trains in the evening handled
the trunks and valises was pleasant to see.</p>
<p>The neglect of carefulness appears, in one instance at least,
to have involved inconvenience to the offending official.&nbsp;
&ldquo;An unknown genius,&rdquo; says an American periodical,
&ldquo;the other day entrusted a trunk, with a hive of bees in
it, to the tender mercies of a Syracuse
&lsquo;baggage-smasher.&rsquo;&nbsp; The company will pay for the
bees, and the doctor thinks his patient will be round in a
fortnight or so.&rdquo;</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;Williams&rsquo;s <i>Our Iron
Roads</i>.</p>
<h2>STUMPED.</h2>
<p>Several Sundays ago a Philadelphia gentleman took his little
son on a railway excursion.&nbsp; The little fellow was looking
out of the window, when his father slipped the hat off the
boy&rsquo;s head.&nbsp; The latter was much grieved at his
supposed loss, when papa consoled him by saying that he would
&ldquo;whistle it back.&rdquo;&nbsp; A little later he whistled
and the hat reappeared.&nbsp; Not long after the little lad flung
his hat out of the window, shouting, &ldquo;Now, papa, whistle it
back again!&rdquo;&nbsp; A roar of laughter in the car served to
enhance the confusion of perplexed papa.&nbsp; Moral: Don&rsquo;t
attempt to deceive little boys with plausible stories.</p>
<h2><!-- page 294--><a name="page294"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 294</span>EXCURSIONISTS PUT TO THE PROOF.</h2>
<p>A good story is told of the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincoln
Railway Company.&nbsp; A week or two since, the company ran an
excursion train to London and back, the excursion being intended
for their workmen at Gorton and Manchester.&nbsp; There was an
enormous demand for the tickets; so enormous that the officials
began, to use an expressive term, &ldquo;to smell a
rat.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the sale of the tickets was allowed to
proceed.&nbsp; The journey to London was made, and a considerable
number of the passengers congratulated themselves upon the
remarkably cheap outing they were having.&nbsp; But on the return
journey they made a most unpleasant discovery.&nbsp; Their
tickets were demanded at Retford, and then the ticket-collectors
insisted upon the holder of every ticket proving that he was in
the employ of the company.&nbsp; The result can be
imagined.&nbsp; There were more persons in the train who had no
connection with the company than there were of the
company&rsquo;s employ&eacute;s; and the former had either to pay
a full fare to and from London, or to give their names and
addresses preparatory to being summoned.&nbsp; We hear, from a
reliable source, that the fares thus obtained amount to about
&pound;300.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">&mdash;<i>Echo</i>, Sept. 23,
1880.</p>
<h2>A MONKEY SIGNALMAN.</h2>
<p>We learn from the <i>Colonies</i> that a monkey signalman
manages the railway traffic at Witenhage, South Africa.&nbsp; The
human signalman has had the misfortune to lose both his legs, and
has trained a baboon to discharge his duties.&nbsp; Jacky pushes
his master about on a trolly, and, under his directions, works
the lever to set the signals with a most ludicrous imitation of
humanity.&nbsp; He puts down the lever, looks round to see that
the correct signal is up, and then gravely watches the
approaching train, his master being at hand to correct any
mistake.</p>
<h2>A CURIOUS CLASSIFICATION.</h2>
<p>The guard of an English railway carriage recently refused to
allow a naturalist to carry a live hedgehog with him.&nbsp; The
traveller, indignant, pulled a turtle from his wallet and said,
&ldquo;Take this too!&rdquo;&nbsp; But the guard replied good
naturedly, &ldquo;Ho, no, sir.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s dogs you
can&rsquo;t carry; and dogs is dogs, cats is dogs, and
&rsquo;edge&rsquo;ogs is dogs, but turtles is
hinsects.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 295--><a name="page295"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 295</span>PULLMAN&rsquo;S CARRIAGES.</h2>
<p>In the discussion on Mr. C. Douglas Fox&rsquo;s recent paper
on the Pennsylvania railway, Mr. Barlow, the engineer of the
Midland, observed that there was a certain attractive power about
a Pullman&rsquo;s carriage, which ought not to be overlooked, a
power which brought passengers to it who would not otherwise
travel by railway.&nbsp; A Pullman&rsquo;s carriage weighed
somewhere about twenty tons.&nbsp; The cost of hauling that
weight was about 1&frac12;d. per mile; that was the sum which the
Midland Company proposed to charge for first-class passengers, so
that one first-class passenger would pay the haulage of the
carriage.&nbsp; If the attractive power of the carriage brought
more than one first-class passenger it would of course pay
itself.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><i>Herepath&rsquo;s Railway
Journal</i>, Jan. 23, 1875.</p>
<h2>PROFITABLE DAMAGES.</h2>
<p>The Springfield <i>Republican</i>, of 1877, is responsible for
the following story:&mdash;&ldquo;The industry of railroading has
developed some thrifty characters, among whom a former
employ&eacute; of the New York, New Haven, and Hartford road
deserves high rank.&nbsp; He was at one time at work in the
Springfield depot, and while taking a trunk out of a baggage car
from Boston he was thrown over and hurt, the baggage-smashing art
being for a time reversed.&nbsp; The injured employ&eacute;
suffered terribly, and crawled around on crutches until the
Boston and Albany and the New Haven roads united and gave him
6000 dollars.&nbsp; He was cured the next day.&nbsp; Shortly
afterwards a man on the Boston and Albany road was killed, and
the Company gave his widow 3,000 dollars.&nbsp; The former
cripple, who had scored 6,000 dollars already, soon married her,
and thus counted 9,000 dollars.&nbsp; He recovered his health so
completely that he was able again to work on the railroad, but
finally, not being hurt again within a reasonable time, he
retired to a farm which he had bought with a part of the proceeds
of his former calamities.&rdquo;</p>
<h2><!-- page 296--><a name="page296"></a><span
class="pagenum">p. 296</span>RAILWAY ENTERPRISE.</h2>
<p>It would be difficult to close this series of Railway
Anecdotes more appropriately than in the words of George
Stephenson&rsquo;s celebrated son Robert at a banquet given to
him at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in August, 1850.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was
but as yesterday,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that he was engaged as
an assistant in tracing the line of the Stockton and Darlington
Railway.&nbsp; Since that period, the Liverpool and Manchester,
the London and Birmingham, and a hundred other great works had
sprung into vigorous existence.&nbsp; So suddenly, so promptly
had they been accomplished, that it appeared to him like the
realization of fabled powers, or the magician&rsquo;s wand.&nbsp;
Hills had been cut down, and valleys had been filled up; and
where this simple expedient was inapplicable, high and
magnificent viaducts had been erected; and where mountains
intervened, tunnels of unexampled magnitude had been
unhesitatingly undertaken.&nbsp; Works had been scattered over
the face of our country, bearing testimony to the indomitable
enterprise of the nation and the unrivalled skill of its
artists.&nbsp; In referring thus to the railway works, he must
refer also to the improvement of the locomotive engine.&nbsp;
This was as remarkable as the other works were gigantic.&nbsp;
They were, in fact, necessary to each other.&nbsp; The locomotive
engine, independent of the railway, would be useless.&nbsp; They
had gone on together, and they now realized all the expectations
that were entertained of them.&nbsp; It would be unseemly, as it
would be unjust, if he were to conceal the circumstances under
which these works had been constructed.&nbsp; No engineer could
succeed without having men about him as highly-gifted as
himself.&nbsp; By such men he had been supported for many years
past; and, though he might have added his mite, yet it was to
their co-operation that all his success was owing.&rdquo;</p>
<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAILWAY ADVENTURES AND ANECDOTES***</p>
<pre>


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