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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a7312c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64815 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64815) diff --git a/old/64815-8.txt b/old/64815-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0ac8c25..0000000 --- a/old/64815-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3129 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Trips in the Life of a Locomotive Engineer, -by Henry Dawson - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Trips in the Life of a Locomotive Engineer - - -Author: Henry Dawson - - - -Release Date: March 14, 2021 [eBook #64815] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRIPS IN THE LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE -ENGINEER*** - - -E-text prepared by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/tripsinlifeofloc00daws - - - - - -TRIPS IN THE LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER. - - -[Illustration: Decorative line] - - - - - - -New York: -J. Bradburn (Successor to M. Doolady), -49 Walker Street. -Follett, Foster & Co. -1863. - -Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860. -By Follett, Foster & Co., -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for -the Southern District of Ohio - - - - -DEDICATION. - -TO THE - -RAILROAD MEN OF THE UNITED STATES, - -A CLASS - -WITH WHOM MY INTERESTS WERE LONG IDENTIFIED, AND WHO I EVER -FOUND GENEROUS AND BRAVE, I DEDICATE THIS -UNPRETENDING VOLUME. - -THE AUTHOR. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -Bravery and heroism have in all times been extolled, and the praises -of the self-sacrificing men and women who have risked their own in the -saving of others' lives, been faithfully chronicled. - -Railroad men, too long looked upon as the rougher kind of humanity, -have been the subjects of severe condemnation and reproach upon the -occurrence of every disaster, while their skill, bravery and presence -of mind have scarcely ever found a chronicler. The writer ventures to -assert, that if the record of their noble deeds were all gathered, and -presented in their true light, it would be found that these rough, and -weather-worn men were entitled to as high a place, and a fame as lofty, -as has been allotted to any other class who cope with disaster. - -It has been the aim of the writer, who has shared their dangerous lot, -to present a few truthful sketches, trusting that his labor may tend to -a better knowledge of the dangers that are passed, by those who drive, -and ride behind the IRON HORSE. If he shall succeed in this, and make -the time of his reader not appear misspent, he will be satisfied. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - Page -Running in a Fog, 11 -A Close Shave, 17 -A Collision, 29 -Collision Extraordinary, 37 -Burning of the Henry Clay, 43 -The Conductor, 51 -Bravery of an Engineer, 59 -The Fireman, 67 -A Dream in the "Caboose," 83 -The Brakeman, 75 -An Unmitigated Villain, 93 -A Proposed Race between Steam and Lightning, 101 -An Abrupt Call, 109 -The Good Luck of being Obstinate, 115 -Human Lives _v._ The Dollar, 123 -Forty-two Miles Per Hour, 131 -Used up at Last, 139 -A Victim of Low Wages, 145 -Coroners' Juries _v._ Railroad Men, 153 -Adventures of an Irish Railroad Man, 161 -A Bad Bridge, 169 -A Warning, 177 -Singular Accidents, 185 -Ludicrous Incidents, 191 -Explosions, 197 -How a Friend was Killed, 203 -An Unromantic Hero, 213 -The Duties of an Engineer, 219 - - - - -RUNNING IN A FOG. - - -In the year 185- I was running an engine on the ---- road. My engine -was named the Racer, and a "racer" she was, too; her driving-wheels -were seven feet in diameter, and she could turn them about as fast as -was necessary, I can assure you. My regular train was the "Morning -Express," leaving the upper terminus of the road at half past four, -running sixty-nine miles in an hour and forty-five minutes, which, as I -had to make three stops, might with justice be considered pretty fast -traveling. - -I liked this run amazingly--for, mounted on my "iron steed," as I -sped in the dawn of day along the banks of the river which ran beside -the road, I saw all nature wake; the sun would begin to deck the -eastern clouds with roseate hues--rising higher, it would tip the -mountain-tops with its glory--higher still, it would shed its radiance -over every hill-side and in every valley. It would illumine the broad -bosom of the river, before flowing so dark and drear, now sparkling -and glittering with radiant beauty, seeming to run rejoicing in its -course to the sea. The little vessels that had lain at anchor all -night, swinging idly with the tide, would, as day came on, shake out -their broad white sails, and, gracefully careening to the morning -breeze, sweep away over the water, looking so ethereal that I no -longer wondered at the innocent Mexicans supposing the ships of Cortez -were gigantic birds from the spirit-land. Some mornings were not so -pleasant, for frequently a dense fog would rise and envelop in its -damp, unwholesome folds the river, the road, and all things near them. -This was rendered doubly unpleasant from the fact that there were -on the line numerous drawbridges which were liable to be opened at -all hours, but more especially about daybreak. To be sure there were -men stationed at every bridge, and in fact every half-mile along the -road, whose special duty it was to warn approaching trains of danger -from open drawbridges, obstructions on the track, etc., but the class -of men employed in such duty was not _noted_ for sobriety, and the -wages paid were not sufficient to secure a peculiarly intelligent or -careful class. So the confidence I was compelled to place in them was -necessarily burdened with much distrust. - -These men were provided with white and red signal lanterns, detonating -torpedoes and colored flags, and the rules of the road required them to -place a torpedo on the rail and show a red signal both on the bridge -and at a "fog station," distant half a mile from the bridge, before -they opened the draw. At all times when the draw was closed they were -to show a white light or flag at this "fog station." This explanation -will, I trust, be sufficient to enable every reader to understand the -position in which I found myself in the "gray" of one September morning. - -I left the starting-point of my route that morning ten minutes behind -time. The fog was more dense than I ever remembered having seen it. -It enveloped every thing. I could not see the end of my train, which -consisted of five cars filled with passengers. The "head-light" which -I carried on my engine illumined the fleecy cloud only a few feet, so -that I was running into the most utter darkness. I did not like the -look of things at all, but my "orders" were positive to use all due -exertions to make time. So, blindly putting my trust in Providence and -the miserable twenty-dollars-a-month-men who were its agents along the -road, I darted headlong into and through the thick and, to all mortal -vision, impenetrable fog. The Racer behaved nobly that morning; she -seemed gifted with the "wings of the wind," and rushed thunderingly -on, making such "time" as astonished even me, almost "native and to -the manor born." Every thing passed off right. I had "made up" seven -minutes of my time, and was within ten miles of my journey's end. -The tremendous speed at which I had been running had exhilarated and -excited me. That pitching into darkness, blindly trusting to men that -I had at best but weak faith in, had given my nerves an unnatural -tension, so I resolved to run the remaining ten miles at whatever -rate of speed the Racer was capable of making. I gave her steam, and -away we flew. The fog was so thick that I could not tell by passing -objects how fast we ran, but the dull, heavy and oppressive roar, as -we shot through rock cuttings and tunnels, the rocking and straining -of my engine, and the almost inconceivable velocity at which the -driving-wheels revolved, told me that my speed was something absolutely -awful. I did not care, though. I was used to that, and the rules bore -me out; besides, I wanted to win for my engine the title of the fastest -engine on the road, which I knew she deserved. So I cried, "_On! on!!_" - -I had to cross one drawbridge which, owing to the intervention of a -high hill, could not be seen from the time we passed the "fog station" -until we were within three or four rods of it. I watched closely -for the "fog station" signal. It was white. "All right! go ahead -my beauty!" shouted I, giving at the same time another jerk at the -"throttle," and we shot into the "cut." In less time than it takes -me to write it, we were through, and there on the top of the "draw," -dimly seen through a rift in the fog, glimmered with to me actual -ghastliness the danger signal--a red light. It seemed to glare at me -with almost fiendish malignancy. Stopping was out of the question, -even had I been running at a quarter of my actual speed. As I was -running, I had not even time to grasp the whistle-cord before we would -be in. So giving one longing, lingering thought to the bright world, -whose duration to me could not be reckoned in seconds even, I shut my -eyes and waited my death, which seemed as absolute and inevitable as -inglorious. It was but an instant of time, but an age of thought and -dread--and then--I was over the bridge. A drunken bridge-tender had, -with accursed stupidity, hoisted the wrong light, and my adventure was -but a "_scare_"--but half a dozen such were as bad as death. - -It was three weeks before I ran again, and I never after "made up time" -in a fog. - - - - -A CLOSE SHAVE. - - -Several times during my life I have felt the emotions so often told -of, so seldom felt by any man, when, with death apparently absolute -and inevitable, immediate and inglorious, staring me full in the -face, I forgot all fears for myself--dreamed not of shuddering at the -thought that I soon must die--that the gates of death were swung wide -open before me, and that, with a speed and force against which all -human resistance was useless, I was rushing into them. I knew that -I was fated with the rest; but I thought only of those behind me in -my charge, under my supervision, then chatting gaily, watching the -swift-receding scenery, thinking perhaps how quickly they would be at -home with their dear ones, and not dreaming of the hideous panorama -of death so soon to unroll, the tinkle of the bell for the starting -of which I seemed to hear; the first sad scene, the opening crash of -which was sickening my soul with terror and blinding me with despair. -For I knew that those voices, now so gay, now so happy, would soon be -shrieking in agony, or muttering the dying groan. I knew that those -faces, now so smiling, would soon be distorted with pain, or crushed -out of all semblance to humanity; and I was powerless to avert the -catastrophe. All human force was powerless. Nothing but the hand of -God, stretched forth in its Omnipotence, could avert it; and there was -scarce time for a prayer for that; for such scenes last but a moment, -though their memory endures for all time. - -I remember well one instance of this kind. I was running on the R. & -W. road, in the East. A great Sabbath-school excursion and picnic was -gotten up, and I was detailed to run the train. The children of all -the towns on the road were assembled; and, when we got to the grove -in which the picnic was to be held, we had eighteen cars full as they -could hold of the little ones, all dressed in their holiday attire, and -brimful of mirth and gayety. I drew the train in upon the switch, out -of the way of passing trains, let the engine cool down, and then went -into the woods to participate in the innocent pleasures of the day. -The children very soon found out that I was the engineer; and, as I -liked children, and tried to amuse them, it was not long before I had -a perfect troop at my heels, all laughing and chatting gaily to "Mr. -Engineer," as they called me. They asked me a thousand questions about -the engine; and one and all tried to extort a promise from me to let -them ride with me, several declaring to me in the strictest confidence, -their intention of becoming engineers, and their desire, above all -things, that I should teach them how. - -So the day passed most happily. The children swung in the swings, -romped on the grass, picked the flowers, and wandered at their own -sweet will all over the woods. A splendid collation was prepared for -them, at which I, too, sat down, and liked to have made myself sick -eating philopenas with the Billys, Freddys, Mollies, and Matties, whose -acquaintance I had made that day, and whose pretty faces and sweet -voices would urge me, in a style that I could not find heart to resist, -to eat a philopena with them, or "just to taste their cake and see if -it wasn't the goodest I ever saw." - -But the day passed, as happy or unhappy days will, and time to start -came round. We had some trouble getting so many little folks together, -and it was only by dint of a great deal of whistling that all my load -was collected. I was much amused to see some of the little fellows' -contempt at others more timid than they, who shut their ears to the -sound of the whistle, and ran to hide in the cars. Innumerable were -the entreaties that I had from some of them, to let them ride on the -engine, "only this once;" but I was inexorable. The superintendent of -the road, who conducted the train, came to me as I was about ready to -start, and told me that, as we had lost so much time collecting our -load, I had better not stop at the first station, from whence we had -taken but a few children, but push on to the next, where we would meet -the down train, and send them back from there. Another reason for this -was, that I had a heavy train, and it was a very bad stop to make, -lying right in a valley, at the foot of two very heavy grades. So, off -I started, the children in the cars swinging a dozen handkerchiefs -from every window, all happy. - -As I had good running-ground, and unless I hurried, was going to be -quite late in reaching my journey's end, I pulled out, and let the -engine do her best. So we were running very fast--about forty-eight -miles an hour. Before arriving at the station at which I was not to -stop, I passed through a piece of heavy wood, in the midst of which -was a long curve. On emerging from the woods, we left the curve, and -struck a straight track, which extended toward the station some forty -rods from the woods. I sounded my whistle a half mile from the station, -giving a long blow to signify my intention of passing without a stop, -and never shut off; for I had a grade of fifty feet to the mile to -surmount just as I passed the station, and I wanted pretty good headway -to do it with eighteen cars. I turned the curve, shot out into sight of -the station, and there saw what almost curdled the blood in my veins, -and made me tremble with terror: a dozen cars, heavily laden with -stone, stood on the side track, and the switch at this end was wide -open! I knew it was useless, but I whistled for brakes, and reversed -my engine. I might as well have thrown out a fish-hook and line, and -tried to stop by catching the hook in a tree; for, running as I was, -and so near the switch, a feather laid on the wheels would have stopped -us just as soon as the brakes. I gave up all. I did not think for a -moment of the painful death so close to me; I thought only of the load -behind me. I thought of their sweet faces, which had so lately smiled -on me, now to be distorted with agony, or pale in death. I thought -of their lithe limbs, so full of animation, now to be crushed, and -mangled, and dabbled in gore. I thought of the anxious parents watching -to welcome their smiling, romping darlings home again; doomed, though, -to caress only a mangled, crushed, and stiffened corpse, or else to -see the fair promises of their young lives blasted forever, and to -watch their darlings through a crippled life. 'Twas too horrible. I -stood with stiffened limbs and eyeballs almost bursting from their -sockets, frozen with terror, and stared stonily and fixedly, as we -rushed on--when a man, gifted, it seemed, with superhuman strength and -activity, darted across the track right in front of the train, turned -the switch, and we were saved. I could take those little ones home in -safety! I never run an engine over that road afterwards. The whole -thing transpired in a moment; but a dozen such moments were worse than -death, and would furnish terror and agony enough for a lifetime. - - - - -A COLLISION. - - -Of the various kinds of accidents that may befall a railroad-man, a -collision is the most dreaded, because, generally, the most fatal. The -man who is in the wreck, of matter that follows the terrible shock of -two trains colliding, stands indeed but a poor chance to escape with -either life or limb. No combination of metal or wood can be formed -strong enough to resist the tremendous momentum of a locomotive at -full or even half speed, suddenly brought to a stand-still; and when -two trains meet the result is even more frightful, for the momentum is -not only doubled, but the scene of the wreck is lengthened, and the -amount of matter is twice as great. The two locomotives are jammed -and twisted together, and the wrecked cars stretch behind, bringing -up the rear of the procession of destruction. I, myself, never had -a collision with another engine, but I did collide with the hind end -of another train of forty cars, which was standing still, at the foot -of a heavy grade, and into which I ran at about thirty-five miles an -hour, and from the ninth car of which I made my way, for the engine -had run right into it. The roof of the car was extended over the -engine, and the sides had bulged out, and were on either side of me. -The cars were all loaded with flour. The shock of the collision broke -the barrels open and diffused the "Double Extra Genesee" all over; it -mingled with the smoke and steam and floated all round, so that when, -during the several minutes I was confined there, I essayed to breathe, -I inhaled a compound of flour, dust, hot steam and choking smoke. Take -it altogether, that car from which, as soon as I could, I crawled, was -a little the hottest, most dusty, and cramped position into which I was -ever thrown. To add to the terror-producing elements of the scene, my -fireman lay at my feet, caught between the tender and the head of the -boiler, and so crushed that he never breathed from the instant he was -caught. He was crushed the whole length of his body, from the left hip -to the right shoulder, and compressed to the thinness of my hand. In -fact, an indentation was made in the boiler where the tender struck -it, and his body was between boiler and tender! The way this accident -happened was simple, and easily explained. The freight train which I -was to pass with the express at the next station, broke down while on -this grade. The breakage was trifling and could easily be repaired, so -the conductor dispatched a man (a green hand, that they paid twenty-two -dollars a month) to the rear with orders, as the night was very dark -and rainy, to go clear to the top of the grade, a full mile off, and -swing his red light from the time he saw my head light, which he could -see for a mile, as the track was straight, until I saw it and stopped, -and then he was to tell me what was the matter, and I, of course, would -proceed with caution until I passed the train. The conductor was thus -particular, for he knew he was a green hand, and sent him back only -because he could be spared, in case the train proceeded, better than -the other man; and he was allowed only two brakemen. Well, with these -apparently clear instructions, the brakeman went back to the top of the -grade. I was then in sight; he gave, according to his own statement, -one swing of the lamp, and it went out. He had no matches, and what to -do he didn't know. He had in his pocket, to be sure, a half a dozen -torpedoes, given to him expressly for such emergencies, but if he ever -knew their use, he was too big a fool to use the knowledge when it was -needed. He might, to be sure, have stood right in the track, and, by -swinging his arms, have attracted my attention, for on dark nights and -on roads where they hire cheap men, I generally kept a close lookout; -and if I saw a man swinging his arms, and, apparently trying to see -how like a madman he could act, I stopped quick, for there was no -telling what was the matter. But this fellow was too big a fool for -that even. He turned from me and made towards his own train, bellowing -lustily, no doubt, for them to go ahead, but they were at the engine, -and its hissing steam made too much noise for them to hear, even had he -been within ten rods of them. But a mile away, that chance was pretty -slim, and yet on it hung a good many lives. I came on, running about -forty-five miles an hour, for the next station was a wood and water -station, and I wanted time there. - -I discovered the red light, held at the rear of the train, when within -about fifteen rods of it. I had barely time to shut off, and was in the -very act of reversing when the collision took place. The tender jumped -up on the foot-board, somehow I was raised at the same time, so that -it did not catch my feet, but the end of the tank caught my hand on the -"reverse lever," which I had not time to let go, and there I was fast. -The first five cars were thrown clear to one side of the track, by the -impetus of my train; the other four were crushed like egg-shells, and -in the ninth, the engine brought up. I was fast; it all occurred in a -second, and the scene was so confusing and rapid that I hardly knew -when my hand _was_ caught; I certainly should not have known where -but for the locality of the piece of it afterwards found. My pain was -awful, for not only was my hand caught, but the wood from the tender, -as I crouched behind the dome, gave my body a most horrible pummeling, -and the blinding smoke and scalding steam added to the misery of my -position. I really began to fear that I should have to stay there and -undergo the slow, protracted torture of being scalded to death; but -with a final effort I jerked my hand loose, and groped my way out. My -clothes were saturated with moisture. The place had been so hot that my -hands peeled, and my face was blistered. I did not fully recover for -months. But at last I did and went at it again, to run into the doors -of death, which are wide open all along every mile of a railroad, -and into which, even if nature does not let you go, some fool of a -man, who is willing to risk his own worthless neck in such scenes for -twenty-five dollars a month, will contrive, ten chances against one, by -his stupid blundering to push you. - - - - -COLLISION EXTRAORDINARY. - - -One morning, in the year 185-, I was running the Morning Express, or -the Shanghæ run, as it was called, on the H. road in New York state. -The morning was foggy, damp and uncomfortable, and by its influence -I was depressed so that I had the "blues" very badly; I felt weary -and tired of the life I was leading, dull and monotonous always, save -when varied by horror. I got to thinking of the poor estimate in which -the class to which I belonged was held by the people generally, who, -seated in the easy-cushioned seats of the train, read of battles far -away--of deeds of heroism, performed amid the smoke and din of bloody -wars,--and their hearts swell with pride,--they glow with gladness to -think that their own species are capable of such daring acts, and all -the while these very readers are skirting the edges of precipices, to -look down which would appall the stoutest heart and make the strongest -nerved man thrill with terror;--they are crossing deep, narrow gorges -on gossamer-like bridges;--they are passing switches at terrific speed, -where there is but an inch of space between smooth-rolling prosperity -and quick destruction;--they are darting through dark, gloomy tunnels, -which would be turned into graves for them, were a single stone to -be detached from the roof in front of the thundering train;--they -are dragged by a fiery-lunged, smoke-belching monster, in whose form -are imprisoned death-dealing forces the most terrific. And mounted -upon this fire-fiend sits the engineer, controlling its every motion, -holding in his hand the thread of every life on the train, which a -single act--a false move--a deceived eye, an instant's relaxation of -thought or care on his part, would cut, to be united nevermore; and the -train thunders on, crossing bridges, gullies and roads, passing through -tunnels and cuts, and over embankments. The engineer, firm to his post, -still regulates the breath of his steam-demon and keeps his eye upon -the track ahead, with a thousand things upon his mind, the neglect or -a wrong thought of either of which would run the risk of a thousand -lives;--and these readers in the cars are still absorbed with the -daring deeds of the Zouaves under the warm sun of Italy, but pay not a -thought to the Zouave upon the engine, who every day rides down into -the "valley of death" and charges a bridge of Magenta. - -But to return to this dismal, foggy morning that I began to tell you -of. It was with some such thoughts as these that I sat that morning -upon my engine, and plunged into the fog-banks that hung over the river -and the river-side. I sat so - - - "Absorbed in guessing, but no syllable expressing" - - -of whether it must always be so with me; whether I should always be -chilled with this indifference and want of appreciation in my waking -hours, and in my sleep have this horrible responsibility and care to -sit, ghoul-like, upon my breast and almost stifle the beating of my -heart;--when with a crash and slam my meditations were interrupted, and -the whole side of the "cab," with the "smokestack," "whistle-stand" and -"sand-box" were stripped from the engine. The splinters flew around my -head, the escaping steam made most an infernal din, and the "fire-box" -emitted most as infernal a smoke, and I was entirely ignorant of what -was up or the extent of the damage done. As soon as I could stop, I -of course, after seeing that every thing was right with the engine, -went back to see what was the cause of this sudden invasion upon the -dreary harmony of my thoughts, and the completeness of my running -arrangements, when lo! and behold it was a North River _schooner_ with -which I had collided. It had, during the fog, been blown upon the -shore, and into its "bowsprit," which projected over the track, I had -run full tilt. - -I think that I am justified in calling a collision between a schooner -on the river and a locomotive on the rail, a _collision extraordinary_. -Readers, do not you? - - - - -BURNING OF THE HENRY CLAY. - - -There is one reminiscence of my life as a "railroad man" that dwells -in my memory with most terrible vividness, one that I often think of -in daytime with shuddering horror; and in the night, in dreams of -appalling terror, each scene is renewed in all the ghastliness of -the reality, so that the nights when I dream of it become epochs of -miserable, terrible helplessness. - -It was on a clear, bright day in August. The fields were covered -with the maturity of verdure, the trees wore their coronal of leaves -perfected, the birds sang gaily, and the river sparkled in the sun; and -I sat upon my engine, looking ahead mostly, but occasionally casting -my eyes at the vessels on the river, that spread their white sails to -the breeze and danced over the rippling waters, looking too graceful -to be of earth. Among the craft upon the river I noticed the steamboat -"Henry Clay;" another and a rival boat was some distance from it, and -from the appearance of things I inferred that they were racing. I -watched the two as closely as I could for sometime, and while looking -intently at the "Clay," I saw a dark column of thick black smoke -ascending from her, "amidships," just back of the smoke-pipe. At first -I paid little heed to it, but soon it turned to fire, and the leaping -flames, like serpents, entwined the whole of the middle portion of the -boat in their terrible embrace. She was at once headed for the shore, -and came rushing on, trailing the thick cloud of flame and smoke. She -struck the shore near where I had stopped my train, for, of course, -seeing such a thing about to happen, I stopped to enable the hands -and passengers to render what assistance they could. The burning boat -struck the shore by the side of a little wharf, right where the station -of "Riverdale" now stands, and those who were upon the forward part of -her decks escaped at once by leaping to the shore; but the majority -of the passengers, including all of the women and children, were on -the after-part of the boat, and owing to the centre of the boat being -entirely enwrapped by the hissing flames, they were utterly unable -to get to the shore. So they were cooped up on the extreme after-end -of the boat, with the roaring fire forming an impassable barrier to -prevent their reaching the land, and the swift-flowing river at their -feet, surging and bubbling past, dark, deep, and to most of them as -certain death as the flames in front. The fire crept on. It drove them -inch by inch to the water. The strong swimmers, crazed by the heat, -wrapped their stalwart arms about their dear ones, and leaped into -the water. Their mutual struggles impeded each other; they sank with -words of love and farewell bubbling from their lips, unheard amidst the -roar of the flames and hiss of the water, as the burning timbers fell -in and were extinguished. Women raised their hands to Heaven, uttered -one piercing, despairing scream, and with the flames enwrapping their -clothing, leaped into the stream, which sullenly closed over them. -Some crawled over the guards and hung suspended until the fierce heat -compelled them to loose their hold and drop into the waves below. -Mothers, clasping their children to their bosoms, knelt and prayed God -to let this cup pass from them. Many, leaping into the water, almost -gained the shore, but some piece of the burning wreck would fall upon -them and crush them down. Some we could see kneeling on the deck until -the surging flames and blinding smoke shrouded them and hid them from -our sight. One little boy was seen upon the hurricane roof, just as it -fell. Entwined in each other's embrace, two girls were seen to rush -right into the raging fire, either delirious with the heat or desirous -of quickly ending their dreadful sufferings, which they thought _must_ -end in death. And we upon the shore stood almost entirely powerless to -aid. Death-shrieks and despairing cries for help, prayer and blasphemy, -all mingled, came to our ear above the roaring and crackling of the -flames, and in agony and the terror of helplessness we closed our ears -to shut out the horrid sounds. The intense heat of the fire rendered -it impossible for us to approach near the boat. The many despairing -creatures struggling in the water made it almost certain death for any -to swim out to help. No boats were near, except the boats of a sloop -which came along just as the fire was at its highest and were unable to -get near the wreck, because of the heat. The scene among the survivors -was most terrible. One little boy of about seven, was running around -seeking his parents and sisters. Poor fellow! his search was vain, -for the scorching flames had killed them, and the rapid river had -buried them. A mother was there, nursing a dead babe, which drowned -in her arms, as, with almost superhuman exertions, she struggled to -the shore. A young lady sat by the side of her father, lying stark and -stiff, killed by a falling beam, within twenty feet of the shore. A -noble Newfoundland dog stood, sole guardian of a little child of three -or four, that he had brought ashore himself, and to whom we could find -neither kith nor kin among the crowd. His dog, playmate of an hour -before, was now the saviour of his life and his only friend. I left the -scene with my train when convinced that a longer stay was useless, as -far as saving life went. - -I returned that afternoon, and the water had given up many of its dead. -Twenty-two bodies lay stretched upon the shore--but one in a coffin, -and she a bride of that morning, with the wedding-dress scorched and -blackened, and clinging with wet, clammy folds to her stiff and rigid -form. Her husband bent in still despair over her. A little child lay -there, unclaimed. His curly, flaxen hair that, two hours before, father -and sisters stroked so fondly, was matted around his forehead, and -begrimed with the sand, over which his little body had been washed to -the river-bank. His little lips, that a mother pressed so lately, now -were black with the slime of the river-bed in which he went to sleep. -An old man of seventy was there, sleeping calmly after the battle of -life, which for him culminated with horror at its close. In short, of -all ages they were there, lying on the sand, and the scene I shall -never forget. Each incident, from the first flashing out of the flame -to the moment when I, with reverent hands, helped lay them in their -coffins and the tragedy closed, is photographed forever upon my mind. - - - - -THE CONDUCTOR. - - -A recent case in the courts of this county, has set me to thinking -of some of the wrongs heaped upon railroad men so much, that I shall -devote this article exclusively to a review of the opprobrium bestowed -upon all men connected with railroads, by the people who every day -travel under their control, with their lives subject to the care and -watchfulness of these men, for whose abuse they leave no opportunity -to escape. Does a train run off the track, and thereby mischief be -worked, every possible circumstance that can be twisted and distorted -into a shape such as to throw the blame upon the men connected with the -road, _is_ so twisted and distorted. The probability of any accident -happening without its being directly caused by the scarcely less than -criminal negligence of some of the railroad men, is always scouted -by the discerning public; most of whom scarcely know the difference -between a locomotive and a pumping engine. An accident caused by -the breaking of a portion of the machinery of a locomotive engine -on the Hudson River Railroad, which did no damage except to cause a -three hours' detention, was by some enterprising and intelligent (?) -penny-a-liner dignified into a proof of the general incompetency of -railroad men, in one of our prominent literary periodicals, and the -question was very sagely asked why the railroad company did not have -engines that would not break down, or engineers that would not allow -them so to do? The question might, with equal propriety, be asked, why -did not nature form trees, the timber of which would not rot? Or, why -did not nature make rivers that would not overflow? - -Let two suits be brought in almost any of our courts, each with -circumstances of the same aggravation, say for assault and battery, and -let the parties in one be ordinary citizens, and in the other, let one -party be a railroad man and the other a citizen, with whom, for some -cause, the railroad man has had a difficulty, and you will invariably -see the railroad man's case decided against him, and in the other case -the defendant be acquitted, to go scot-free. Why is this? Simply, I -think, because every individual who has ever suffered from the hands of -any railroad employee, treasures up that indignity, and lays it to the -account of every other railroad man he meets, making the class suffer -in his estimation, because one of them treated him in a crusty manner. - -If a man's neighbor or friend offend him, he tries to forgive -it--earnestly endeavors to find palliating circumstances; but, in the -case of railroad men, all that would palliate the offense of rudeness -and want of courtesy, such as is sometimes shown, is studiously -ignored, or, at the mildest, forgotten. - -I knew a school teacher once, who said that the most barbarous -profession in the world was that of teaching, because it drove from a -man all humanity. He got into such a habit of ruling, that it became -impossible for him to understand how to obey any one himself. - -The same thing might be said of a railroad conductor; for, every day in -his life, he takes the exclusive control of a train full of passengers -of as different dispositions as they are of different countenances. -Now, he meets with a testy, quarrelsome old fellow, who is given -to fault-finding, and who blows him up at every meeting. Now, with -a querulous old maid, who is in continual fear lest the train run -off the track, the boiler burst, or the conductor palm off some bad -money on her. Now, with a gent of an inquisitive turn of mind, who is -continually asking the distance to the next station, and the time the -train stops there, or else pulling out an old turnip of a watch and -comparing his time with the conductor's. Then, a stupid, dunderheaded -man is before him, who does not know where he is going, nor how much -money he has got. Then, somebody has got carried by, and scolds the -conductor for it, or else angrily insists that the train be immediately -backed up for his especial accommodation. The next man, maybe, is an -Irishman, made gloriously happy and piggishly independent, by the -aid of poor whiskey, who will pay his fare how he pleases, and when -he pleases; who is determined to ride where he wants to, and who -will at once jump in for a fight, if any of these rights of his are -invaded; or, mayhap, he will not pay his fare at all, deeming that his -presence (scarcely more endurable than a hog's) is sufficient honor to -remunerate the company for his ride; or perhaps his "brother Tiddy, -or Pathrick, or Michael, or Dinnis works upon the thrack," and "bedad, -he'll jist ride onyway." All these characters are found in any train, -and with them the conductor has to deal every day. How do you know, -when he speaks harshly to you, but that he has just had a confab with -one of these gentry, who has sorely tried his patience, and riled his -temper? How do you think you would fill his place, were you subjected -to such annoyances all the time? Would you be able at all times to -maintain a perfectly correct and polite exterior--a Christian gravity -of demeanor--and never for an instant forget yourself, or lose your -temper, or allow your manner to show to any one the slightest acerbity? -You know you could not; and yet, for being only thus human, you are -loud in your denunciation of conductors and all railroad men, and, -perhaps honestly, but certainly with great injustice, believe them -to have no care for your wants, no interest in your comfort. Treat -railroad men with the same consideration that you evince towards other -business companions. Consider always that they are only human--have -not saintly nor angelic tempers, any of them, and that every day's -experience is one of trial and provocation. By so doing, you will -be only rendering them simple justice, and you will yourself receive -better treatment than if you attempt to make the railroad man your -menial, or the pack-horse for all your ill-feeling. - - - - -BRAVERY OF AN ENGINEER. - - -The presence of mind shown by railroad men is a great deal talked -about; but few, I think, know the trying circumstances under which it -must be exercised, because they have never thought of, and are not -familiar enough with the details of the business, and the common, -every-day incidents of the lives of railroad men. If any thing does -happen to a train of cars, or an engine, it comes so suddenly, and is -all over so quickly, that the impulse, and effort, to do something to -prevent it, must be instantaneous, or they are of no avail. The mind -must devise, and the hands spring to execute at once, for the man is -on a machine that moves like the wind-blast, and will snap bands and -braces of iron or steel as easily as the wild horse would break a -halter of thread. - -The engine, while under the control of its master, moves along -regularly and with the beauty of a dream; its wheels revolve, glancing -in the sun; its exhausted steam coughs as regularly as the strong man's -heart beats, and trails back over the train, wreathing itself into the -most fantastic convolutions; now sweeping away towards the sky in a -grand, white pillar, anon twining and twisting among the gnarled limbs -of the trees beside the track, and the train moves on so fast that the -scared bird in vain tries to get out of its way by flying ahead of -it. Still the engineer sits there cool and calm; but let him have a -care,--let not the exhilaration of his wild ride overcome his prudence, -for the elements he controls are, while under his rule, useful and -easily managed, but broken loose, they have the power of a thousand -giants, and do the work of a legion of devils in almost a single beat -of the pulse. - -A man can easily retain his presence of mind where the danger depends -entirely upon him; that is, where his maintaining one position, or -doing one thing resolutely, will avert the catastrophe; but under -circumstances such as frequently beset an engineer, where, to do his -utmost, he can only partially avert the calamity, then it is that the -natural bravery and acquired courage of a man is tried to the utmost -extent. I remember several instances of this kind, where engineers, in -full view of the awful danger which threatened them, knowing too well -the terrible chances of death that were against them and the passengers -under their charge, even if they did maintain their positions, and, by -using all their exertions, succeeded in slightly reducing the shock of -the collision, which could only be modified--not averted--still stuck -to their posts, did their utmost, and rode into the other train and -met their death, amid the appalling scenes of the chaotic ruin which -followed. - -George D---- was running the Night Express on the ---- road. I was then -running the freight train, which laid over at a station for George to -pass. One night--it was dark and dismal--the rain had been pouring -down in torrents all night long; I arrived with my train, went in upon -the switch and waited for George, who passed on the main track without -stopping. Owing to the storm and the failure of western connections, -George was some thirty minutes behind, and of course came on, intending -to run though the station pretty fast--a perfectly safe proceeding, -apparently, for the switches could not be turned wrong without changing -the lights, and these being "bull's-eye" lanterns elevated so that -they could be seen a great distance on the straight track which was -there, no change could be made without the watchful eye of the engineer -seeing it at once. So George came on, at about thirty-five miles an -hour, as near as I could judge, and I was watching him all the time. He -was within about three times the length of his train of the switch--was -blowing his whistle--when I saw, and _he_ saw the switchman run madly -out of his "shanty," grab the switch and turn it so that it would lead -him directly into the hind end of my train. I jumped, instinctively, to -start my engine--I heard him whistle for brakes, and those that stood -near said that he reversed his engine--but my train was too heavy for -me to move quickly, and he was too near to do much good by reversing, -so I soon felt a heavy concussion, and knew that he had struck hard, -for, at the other end of forty-five cars, it knocked me down, and the -jar broke my engine loose from the train. He might have jumped from his -engine with comparative safety, after he saw the switch changed, for -the ground was sandy there and free from obstructions; and he could -easily have jumped clear of the track and escaped with slight bruises. -But no! Behind him, trusting to him, and resting in comparative -security, were hundreds to whom life was as dear as to him; his post -was at the head; to the great law of self-preservation, that most -people put first in their code of practice, his stern duty required him -to forswear allegiance, and to act on the principle, "others first, -myself afterwards." So, with a bravery of heart such as is seldom found -in other ranks of men, he stuck to his iron steed, transformed then -into the white steed of death, and spent the last energies of his life, -the strength of his last pulse, striving to mitigate the suffering -which would follow the collision. His death was instantaneous; he -had no time for regrets at leaving life and the friends he loved so -dearly. When we found him, one hand grasped the throttle, his engine -was reversed, and with the other hand he still held on to the handle -of the sand-box lever. The whole middle and lower portion of his body -was crushed, but his head and arms were untouched, and his face still -wore a resolute, self-sacrificing expression, such as must have lit -up the countenance of Arnold Winkleried, when crying, "_Make way for -liberty_," he threw himself upon a sheaf of Austrian spears and broke -the column of his enemies. - -I find in nearly every cemetery that I visit, monuments and -memorial-stones to some brave man who fell and died amid the smoke -and flame and hate of a battle-field; and orators and statesmen, -ministers and newspapers, exhaust the fountains of eloquence to extol -the "illustrious dead." But George D----, who spent his life in a -constant battle with the elements, who waged unequal war with time and -space, who at last chose rather to die himself than to bring death -or injuries to others, sleeps in the quiet of a country church-yard. -The wailing wind, sighing through the few trees there, sings his only -dirge; a plain stone, bought by the hard won money of his companions in -life, alone marks his resting-place. The stranger, passing by, would -scarcely notice it; but who shall dare to tell me that there resteth -not there a frame, from which a soul has flown, as noble as any that -sleeps under sculptured urn or slab, over which thousands have mused, -and which has been the text of hundreds of exhortations to patriotism -and self-forgetfulness? - - - - -THE FIREMAN. - - -The fireman, the engineer's _left_-hand man, his trump card, without -whom it would be difficult for him to get over the road, is seen but -little, and thought but little of. He is usually dirty and greasy, -wearing a ragged pair of overalls, originally blue, but now embroidered -so with oil and dust, that they are become a smutty brown. Just before -the train leaves the station, you will see his face, down which streams -the perspiration, looking back, watching for the signal to start; for -this is one of his many duties. His head is usually ornamented (in -his opinion) with some outlandish cap or hat; though others regard it -as a fittingly outrageous cap-sheaf to his general dirty and outre -appearance. But little cares Mr. Fireman; he runs the fire-box of that -"machine." He feels pride in the whole engine; and when he sees any -one admiring its polished surface, gleaming so brightly in the sun, -flashing so swiftly by the farm-houses on the road (in each of which -Mr. Fireman has acquaintance of the opposite sex, to whom he must -needs swing his handkerchief), he feels a glow of honest satisfaction; -and the really splendid manner in which his efforts have caused it to -shine--which is evidently one great reason for the admiration bestowed -upon it--so fills him with self gratulation that, in his great modesty, -which he fears will be overcome if he stays there much longer watching -people as they admire his handiwork, and he be led to tell them all -about it, how he scrubbed and scoured to bring her to that pitch of -perfection--he turns away, and begins to pitch the wood about in the -most reckless manner imaginable; yet every stick goes just where he -wants it. - -His aspirations (and he has them, my lily-handed friend, as well as -you, and perhaps, though not so elevated, more honorable than yours) -are, that he may, by attending to his own duties, so attract the -attention of the ones in authority that he may be placed in positions -where he can learn the business, and, by and by, himself have charge of -an engine as its runner. It does not seem a very high ambition; but, -to attain it, he undergoes a probation seldom of less than three, -frequently of seven or eight years, at the hardest kind of work, -performed, too, where dangers are thick around him, and his chances to -avert them very slim. His duties are manifold and various; but long -years of attendance to them makes them very monotonous and irksome, and -he would soon weary of them, did not the hope of one day being himself -sole master of the "iron horse," actuate him to renewed diligence and -continued efforts to excel. He is on duty longer than any other man -connected with the train. He must be on hand before the engine comes -out of the shop, to start a fire and see that all is right about the -engine. Usually he brings it out upon the track; and then, when all is -ready, he begins the laborious work of throwing wood; which amounts to -the handling of from four to seven cords of wood per diem, while the -engine and tender are pitching and rolling so that a "green-horn" would -find it hard work to stand on his feet, let alone having, while so -standing, to keep that fiery furnace supplied with fuel. The worse the -day, the more the snow or rain blows, the harder his work. His hands -become calloused with the numerous wounds he receives from splinters -on the wood. He it is who has to go out on the runboard and oil the -valves, while the engine is running full speed. No matter how cold the -wind may blow, how rain, hail, sleet, or snow may beat down upon him, -covering every thing with ice, nor how dark the night, out there he -must go and crawl along the slippery side of the engine to do his work. -At stations he must take water, and when at last the train arrives at -its destination, and others are ready to go home, he must stay. If a -little too much wood is in the fire-box, he must take it out, and then -go to work cleaning and scouring the dust and rust from off the bright -work and from the boiler. Every bit of cleaning in the cab and above -the runboard, including the cylinders and steam-chest, must be done by -him; and any one who will look at the fancy-work on some of our modern -locomotives, can judge something of what he has to do after the day's -work on the road is done. Every thing is brass, or covered with brass; -and all must be kept polished like a mirror, or the fireman is hauled -over the coals. - -For performing these manifold duties, he receives the magnificent -sum of (usually) thirty dollars per month; and he knows no Sundays, -no holidays--on long roads, he scarcely knows sleep. He has not the -responsibility resting on him that there is upon the engineer; but -it is required of him, when not otherwise engaged with his duty of -firing, to assist the engineer in keeping a lookout ahead. His position -is one of the most dangerous on the train, as is proved by the frequent -occurrence of accidents, where only the fireman is killed; and his -only obituary, no matter how earnest he may have been, how faithful in -the performance of his duties, is an item in the telegraphic reports, -that _a fireman was killed_ in such a railroad smash. He may have been -one of nature's noblemen. A fond mother and sweet sisters may have -been dependent on his scanty earnings for their support. No matter; -the great surging tide of humanity that daily throngs these avenues -of travel, has not time to inquire after, nor sympathy to waste upon, -a greasy wood-passer, whom they regard as simply a sort of piece in -the machinery of the road, not half so essential as a valve or bolt, -for if he be lost, his place can be at once supplied; but if a bolt -or other essential piece of the iron machinery give out, it will most -likely cause a vexatious delay. Once in a while a fireman performs some -heroic act that brings him into a momentary notoriety, and opens the -eyes of the few who may be cognizant of the case, to the fact that, on -a railroad, all men are in danger, and that the most humble of them -may perform some self-sacrificing deed that will, at the expense of his -own, save many other lives. - -In a collision that occurred at a station on one of the roads in New -York state, the engineer, a relative of some of the managers of the -road, who had fired only half so long as the man then firing for him, -jumped from the engine, leaving it to run at full speed into the hind -end of a train standing on a branch track, of which the switch was -wrong; not doing a single thing to avert or mitigate the calamity; -fearing only for his own precious neck, which a hemp cravat would -ornament, to the edification of the world. The fireman sprang at once -to the post vacated by the engineer, reversed the engine, opened the -sand-box valve, and rode into the hind end of that train; losing, in so -doing, a leg and an arm. He has been most munificently rewarded for his -heroism, being now employed to attend a crossing and hold a flag for -passing trains, and receiving the princely compensation of twenty-five -dollars per month; while the engineer, who deserted his post and -left all to _kind Providence_, is running on the road at a salary of -seventy-five per month. - - - - -THE BRAKEMAN. - - -A very humble class of railroad men, a class that gets poorer pay in -proportion to the work they do and the dangers they run than any other -upon a road, are the brakemen. Though perhaps less responsibility rests -upon them, they are placed in the most dangerous position on the train; -they are expected to be at their posts at all times, and to flinch from -no contingency which may arise. The managers of a railroad expect and -demand the brakemen to be as prompt in answering the signals of the -engineer as the throttle-valve is obedient to his touch. - -Reader, were you ever on a train of cars moving with the wings of the -wind, skimming over the ground as rapidly as a bird flies, darting by -tree and house, through cuttings and over embankments? and did you ever -feel a sudden jar that almost jerked you from your seat? At the same -time did you hear a sharp, sudden blast of the whistle, ringing out -as if the hand that pulled it was nerved by the presence of danger, -braced by a terrible anxiety to avoid destruction? It frightened you, -did it not? But did you notice the brakeman then? He rushed madly -out of the cars as if he thought the train was going to destruction -surely, and he wished, before the crash came, to be out of it. No, -that was not his object. He caught hold of the brakes and, with all -the force and energy he was capable of exerting, applied them to the -swift-revolving wheels, and when you felt the gradual reduction of -the speed under the pressure of the brakes, you began to feel easier. -But what thought the brakeman all the time? Did he think that, if the -danger ahead was any one of a thousand which might happen? if another -train was coming towards them, and they should strike it? if a disabled -engine was on the track, and a fool, to whom the task was intrusted, -had neglected to give your train the signal? if the driving rain had -raised some little stream, or a spark of fire had lodged in a bridge -and the bridge was gone? if some loosened rock had rolled down upon -the track; or if the track had slid; or if some wretch, wearing a -human form over a hellish soul, had lifted a rail, placed a tie on the -track, to hurl engine and car therefrom?--if any of these things were -ahead and the speed of your train be too great to stop, and go plunging -into it, did he realize that he was the first man to be caught; that -those two cars between which he stood, straining every nerve to do his -share to avert the catastrophe, would come together and crush him, -as he would crush a worm beneath his tread? If he did, he was doing -his duty in that dangerous place, risking his life at a pretty cheap -rate--a dollar a day--wasn't he? And still these men do this every day -for the same price and at the same risk, while the passengers regard -them as necessary evils, who _will_ be continually banging the doors. -So they pass them by, never giving them a kind word, scarcely ever -thanking them for the many little services which they unhesitatingly -demand of them, and, if the passenger has ridden long, and the jolting -and jarring, the want of rest, or wearisome monotony of the long -ride has made him peevish, how sure he is to vent his spite on the -brakeman, because he thinks him the most humble, and therefore the most -unprotected man on the train. And the brakeman endures it all; for if -he answers back a word, if he asserts his manhood--which many seem to -think he has sold for his paltry thirty dollars a month--why, he is -reported at the office, a garbled version of the affair is given, and -the brakeman is discharged. - -But have a care, O! most chivalrous passenger, you who fly into such a -passion if your dignity is offended by a short answer. You may quarrel -with a man having a soul in him beside which yours would look most -pitifully insignificant; one who, were the dread signal to sound, would -rush out into the danger, and, throwing himself into the chasm, die for -you, amid all the appalling scenes of the chaotic wreck of that train -of cars, as coolly, as determinately, as unselfishly as the Stuart -queen barred the door with her own fair arm, that her liege lord might -escape. And then, methinks, you would feel sad when you saw his form -stretched there dead, all life crushed out of it--once so comely, now -so mangled and unsightly--and thought that, with that poor handful -of dust from which the soul took flight so nobly, you had just been -picking a petty quarrel. - -If you have read the accounts of railroad accidents as carefully -and with such thrilling interest as I have, you will remember many -incidents where brakemen were killed while at their post, discharging -their duty. Several have come under my immediate observation. On the H. -R. R. one night I was going over the road, "extra," that is, I was not -running the engine, but riding in the car. I heard a sharp whistle, but -thought it was not of much consequence, for I knew the engineer's long -avowed intention, to never call the brakemen to their posts when the -danger could be avoided; he said he would give them a little chance, -not call them where they had none. The brakemen all sprang to their -posts; the one in the car where I was I saw putting on his brake; the -next instant, with a shock that shook every thing loose and piled the -seats, passengers, stove, and pieces of the roof all into a mass in the -forward end of the car, the engine struck a rock, the cars were all -piled together, and I was pitched into the alley up close to the end -which was all stove in. I felt blood trickling on my hands, but thought -it was from a wound I had received on my head. I soon found that it -was from Charley McLoughlin, the brakeman with whom I had just been -talking, and whom I saw go to his post at the first signal of danger. -The whole lower part of his body was crushed, but he yet lived. We got -him out as soon as possible and laid him beside the track on a door, -then went to get the rest of the dead and wounded. We found one of the -brakemen dead, his head mashed flat; the other one, Joe Barnard, was -hurt just as Charley was, and as they were inseparable companions, -we laid them together. I took their heads in my lap--we did not try -to move them, as the physicians said they could not live--and there -for four long hours I sat and talked with those men whose lives were -surely, but slowly ebbing away. In life they were as brothers, and -death did not separate them, for they departed within fifteen minutes -of each other. But notice this fact--the brakeman who was found dead, -still held in his hand the shattered brake-wheel, and Joe Barnard was -crushed with both hands still grasping his. Yet these men were "only -brakemen!" - - - - -A DREAM IN THE "CABOOSE." - - -A first thought of the life of an engineer would be that it was a life -peculiarly exhilarating; that in the mind of an engineer the rush and -flow of strong feeling and emotion would constantly be felt; that the -every-day incidents of his life would keep his nerves continually on -the stretch, and that lassitude would never overtake him. But such -is not the case. I know of no life that a man could live which would -more certainly produce stagnation than it. Every day, in sunshine -or storm, cold or heat, light or darkness, he goes through the same -scenes, bearing the same burdens of care and responsibility, facing -the same dangers, braving grim death ever and all the time until he -loses fear, and the novelty of the at first exhilarating effort to -conquer space and distance, and make time of no account, wears away, -till danger becomes monotonous, and only an occasional scene of -horror checkers the unchanging current of his every-day life. He knows -every tie on the road; he knows that here is a bad curve, there a weak -bridge, from either of which he may at any time, by the most probable -of possibilities, be hurled to his death; and still every day he rides -his "iron horse," of fiery heart and demon pulse, over the weak places -and the strong, posted at the very front of the procession, which any -one of a thousand contingencies would make a funeral train. He passes -the same stations, blows his whistle at the same point, sees the same -men at work in the same fields, with the same horses that they used -last year and the year before. Two lines of iron stretch before him, to -demand and receive his earnest scrutiny every day, precisely as they -have every day for years. - -He meets the same men on other trains at the same places, and bids them -"hail" and "good-bye" with the same uncertainty of ever seeing them -again that he has always felt, and which has grown so sadly wearisome. - -He alone knows and appreciates the chances against him, but his daily -bread depends upon his running them, so with a resolute will that soon -gets to be the merest trusting to luck, he goes ahead, controlled by -the same rules, which always have the same dreary penalties attached -to them when violated,--a maimed and disfigured body for the balance of -his days, or a sudden and inglorious death. - -If one of his intimate companions gets killed, he can only bestow a -passing thought upon it, for he has not been unexpectant of it, and he -knows full well that the same accident may at the same place make it -his turn next, as he passes over the same road every day, running the -same chances, as did his friend just gone. - -I had, while I was on the H---- road, a particular friend, an engineer. -We were inseparable, and were both of us, alike, given to fits of -despondency, at which times we would, with choking dread, bid each -other farewell, and "hang around" the telegraph office to hear the -welcome "O K" from the various stations, signifying that our trains had -passed "on time" and "all right." - -One Saturday night, when my engine was to "lay over" for the Sunday -at the upper end of the road, I determined to go back to N----. The -only train down that night, was the one o'clock "night freight," which -Charley, my friend, was to tow with the "Cumberland," a heavy, clumsy -"coal-burner." I went to the engine-house, and sat down with Charley, -to smoke and talk till his "leaving time" came. He had the blues that -night, and after we had talked awhile, I had them too. So we sat there -slowly puffing our pipes, recalling gloomy tales of our own, and of -others' experience; telling of unlucky engines (a favorite superstition -with many engineers), and of unlucky men, and of bad places on the -road, weak bridges, loose rails, shelving rocks, and bad curves, until -we had got ourselves into the belief that nothing short of a miracle -could possibly enable even a hand-car to pass over the road in any -thing like safety. Had any of the passengers who daily passed over the -road, in the comparative safety of its sumptuous coaches, been there -and heard our description of the road, I guess they would have taken -lodgings at the nearest hotel, sooner than have ridden over the road -that night, towed by that engine, which Charley had more than once -characterized as a "deathtrap" and "man-killer," and proven her right -to the name by alluding to the four men she had killed. At length the -hours had dragged themselves along, and the "Cumberland" was coupled -to the train. As I started for the "Caboose," Charley said to me, "The -'Cumberland' always was and always will be an unlucky engine, and -blamed if I know but she will kill me to-night, so let's shake hands, -and good-bye." We shook hands, and I clambered into the "Caboose," -having, it must be confessed, a sneaking kind of good feeling to think -that I was at the rear instead of the front end of those forty cars, -especially as the engine was one that, despite my reason and better -judgment, I more than half-believed was "cursed" with "ill-luck;" by -which I mean, she was peculiarly liable to fatal accidents. Well, I -curled myself up on one of the seats and prepared for sleep; not, -though, in just the frame of mind I would choose in order to secure -"pleasant slumbers" and "sweet dreams." At first my sleep was fitful; -the opening of the door, as the hands frequently went out or came -in; the cessation of the jar and rumble when the train stopped; the -changing of position as I tossed about in my fitful sleep--these all -would wake me. At last, however, I dropped to sleep, and slept long -and soundly. Strange dreams, fraught with terror, filled with wild and -fantastic objects, danced over and controlled my mind. I was placed in -positions of the most awful dread; I was on engines of inconceivable -power, powerless to control them, and they ran with the velocity of -light into long trains laden with smiling women and romping children, -whose shrieks mingled with the curses of their husbands and fathers, -who said it was my fault, and cursed me to lingering tortures. Then -the scene would change. I would be on a long straight track, mounted -on an engine which seemed a devil broken loose, and bent on a mission -of death which I could not stir to stop; while away in the distance -was another engine, coming towards me, and I felt, by intuition, that -it was Charley, and then I would see his white and pallid face, clammy -with the sweat of terror, and his long black hair swept back from his -forehead, while agony, despair, and the miserable, hopeless fear of -instant and horrible death shone with lurid, fierce, unnatural fire -from his dark blue eye, and I seemed to know that every one I held -dear was on his train; that my sisters were there looking out of the -window, gaily laughing and watching for the next station, where my -train was to meet theirs, and my mother sat smilingly by, looking on, -while other friends that I loved were saying kind words of me, who, in -another instant, would be upon them with a fiendish, fiery engine of -death. I would shut my eyes, and the scene would change again. I would -be skirting the edges of deep, dark precipices, and while I looked, -shuddering, down into the dark and sombre depths, my whole train would -go over the bank and down, down--still farther down it plunged--till -I seemed to have gone far enough for the nether depths. A sudden -tremendous jar woke me, and I sprang to my feet from the floor to which -I had been hurled, and found myself in utter darkness. For an instant -I did not know where I was, but I soon recalled myself and started out -of the "Caboose," fully convinced that some awful calamity had happened -to the train, and bound to know, in the shortest possible time, whether -Charley or any of the rest of the hands were hurt. I soon saw a light, -and hallooed to know what was the matter. "Nothing," answered Charley's -well-known voice. "Well," says I, "you make a deuce of a fuss doing -nothing." I told him how I was awakened, and we started back to see -what was the matter. We found that, in throwing the "Caboose" in upon -the branch track, he had given it too much headway, and there being no -brakeman on it to check its speed, it had hit the tie laid across the -rail with sufficient force to throw me from the seat and put out the -only lamp in the car. So we went home, laughing heartily; but I never -prepared myself for another midnight ride in the "Caboose" of a freight -train by telling horrid stories just before I started. - - - - -AN UNMITIGATED VILLAIN. - - -Everybody knows mean men. Everybody knows people that they think are -capable of any mean act, who would, did opportunity present itself, -steal, lie, cheat, swear falsely, or do any other act which is vicious. -But do any of my readers think that they know any one who would be -guilty of deliberately placing an obstruction on a railroad track, over -which he knew that a train, laden with human passengers, must soon -pass? Yet such men are plenty. Such acts are frequently done, and often -with the sole view of stealing from the train during the excitement -which must necessarily ensue after such an accident. Sometimes such -deeds are done from pure revenge, because the man who does it imagines -that the railroad company has done him some injury, and he thinks that -by so doing he will reap a rich harvest of vengeance. What kind of a -soul can such a man have? The man who desires to steal, wishes to get -a chance to do so when people's minds are so occupied with some other -idea that their property is not thought of. So he goes to the railroad -track and lifts up a rail, places a tie or a T rail across the track, -or does something that he thinks will throw the train from the track; -and then lies in wait for the accident to happen, calmly and with -deliberate purpose awaiting the event; expecting, amid the carnage -which will probably follow, to reap his reward; calculating, when it -comes, to fill his pockets with the money thus obtained; and when -it does happen, and the heavy train, in which, resting in security, -are hundreds of passengers, goes off the track, is wrecked, and lies -there with every car shattered, and out of their ruins are creeping -the mangled victims, who rend the air with their horrid shrieks and -moans of agony; when the dead and the mangled are mixed up amidst the -appalling wreck; when little children, scarce able to go alone, are -so torn to pieces that they linger only for a few moments on earth; -when families, that a few moments before were unbroken and happy, are -separated forever by the death of the father who lies in sight of the -remaining ones, a crushed and bleeding mass, or by the loss of the -mother, who, caught by some portion of the wreck, is held, and there, -in awful agony, slowly frets her life away, right in sight of all that -are dear to her; or, maybe, a husband, who is hurrying home to his dear -one lying at the point of death, and anxiously awaiting his coming, -that, before she dies, she may bid him good-bye, he is caught and -mangled so that he cannot move farther, and the wife dies alone. Maybe -a child, long time absent, is hastening home to meet the aged mother or -father, and bid them good-bye ere the long running sands are run out -entirely; but here he is caught, and his last breath of life goes out -with a heart-rending, horrible scream of agony, and only his mangled -corpse can go home. All ties may be rudely sundered. The infant at its -mother's breast may be killed, and its mother clasp its tiny, bleeding -form to her bosom, but it shall smile on her nevermore; its cooing -voice shall not welcome her care again on earth. The mother too may be -killed, and the moaning child may sob and sigh for the accustomed kiss, -but all in vain. The mother, mangled and slain, only holds the child -in the stiff embrace of death. The author of it all--where is he? he -that did the deed? Is he rummaging the baggage or the pockets of the -dead to find spoil? If he is, surely every cent he gets will blister -his fingers through all time and in hell. The wail of the dying and -the last gasp of the dead will, through all time, surely ring in his -ears with horrible distinctness, and with a sound ominous of eternal -torture. The horrible sight of the mangled, bleeding bodies, the set -eyes, and jaws locked from excessive torture, will surely fasten on -his eye forever, and blister his sight. Horrid dreams, wherein jibing -fiends shall mock at him and the wail of the damned ring forever in his -ears, shall surely visit his pillow and haunt him every night. Each -voice that he hears amid the carnage shall seem, in after-time, to be -the voice of an accusing angel telling him of his guilt. - -So we would think, and yet men do it. Some in order to have a chance -to steal, others as revenge for some petty injury; and they live, and, -if detected, are sent for ten or twenty years to the penitentiary, as -if that were punishment enough! It may be that I feel too strongly on -the subject, but it seems to me that an eternity in hell would scarce -be more than sufficient punishment for such a damnable deed. I think -I could coolly and without compunction tread the drop to launch such -a being to eternity; for surely no good influence that earth affords -would be sufficient to reclaim such a man from the damnable depravity -of his nature. Surely a man capable of such a deed, is a born fiend fit -only for the abiding place of the accursed of God, whose voice should -ever be heard howling in sleepless, eternal agony in the sulphurous -chambers of the devil's home. I do feel strongly on this subject, for -I have stood by and seen many a horrid death of this kind; I have held -the hands of dear friends and felt their last convulsive pressure amid -such scenes, whose deaths were caused by the diabolical malignity of -some devil, who, for the nonce, had assumed human shape, and in revenge -for the death of a cow, or for the unpaid occupation of land, or to get -a chance to rob, had placed something on the track and thrown the cars -therefrom. I have seen things placed on the track, rails torn up, and -other traps, the ingenuity of whose arrangement could only have been -begotten by the devil; and I have shut my eyes and thought that I had -taken my last look at earth and all its glories; but I have escaped. -I never caught one of these wretches, and I never want to; for if I -should, I am afraid I would become an instrument for ridding the earth -of a being who had secured good title (and could not lose it) to an -abode in the nethermost hell. - - - - -A PROPOSED RACE BETWEEN STEAM AND LIGHTNING. - - -Old Wash. S---- is known by almost every railroad engineer, at least -by reputation. A better engineer, one who could make better time, draw -heavier loads, or keep his engine in better repair, I never knew. But -Wash. had one failing, he would drink; and if he was particularly -elated with any good fortune, or was expecting to make a fast run, he -was sure to get full of whiskey; and though in that state never known -to transgress the rules of the road by running on another train's time, -or any thing of that sort, still he showed the thing which controlled -him by running at a terrible rate of speed. At one time they purchased -a couple of engines for the E. road, on which Wash. was running. These -engines were very large, and were intended to be very fast, being -put up on seven feet wheels. From the circumstance of their being -planked between the spokes of their "drivers," that is, having a piece -of plank set in between the spokes, the "boys" used to call them the -"plank-roaders." They were tried, and though generally considered -capable of making "fast time" under favorable circumstances, they -didn't suit that road; so they were condemned to "the gravel-pit," -until they could receive an overhauling, and be "cut down" a foot or -two. Wash. had always considered that these engines were much abused, -and had never received fair treatment; so he obtained permission of the -Superintendent to take one of them into the shop and repair it. At it -he went, giving the engine a thorough overhauling, fixing her valves -for the express purpose of running fast, and making many alterations -in minor portions of her machinery. At last he had the job completed, -and took her out on the road. After running one or two trips on freight -trains to smooth her brasses, and try her working, he was "chalked" -for the fastest train on the road, the B. Express. All the "boys" on -the road were anxious for the result, for it was expected that "Old -Wash." and the "plank-roader" would "astonish the natives," that trip. -Wash. imbibed rather freely, and was somewhat under the influence of -liquor when the leaving time of his train came, though not enough to be -noticed; but as minute after minute passed, and the train with which it -connected did not make its appearance, Wash., who kept drinking all the -time, grew tighter and tighter, till at last, when it did come in, an -hour and a half "behind time," Wash. was pretty comfortably drunk; so -much so that some of the men who had to go on the train with him looked -rather "skeery," for they knew that they might expect to be "towed" as -fast as the engine could run. How fast that was no one knew, but her -seven feet wheels promised a near approach to flying. - -At last they started, and I freely confess that I never took as fast -a ride in my life. (Wash. had got me to fire for him.) Keeping time -was out of the question as far as I was concerned, for I had my hands -full to keep the "fire-box" full, and hold my hat on. We had not run -more than ten miles, before the brakemen, ordered by the conductor, -put on the brakes, impeding our speed somewhat, but not stopping us, -for we were on a heavy down grade, and Wash. had her "wide open," -and working steam at full stroke. At last the conductor came over and -begged Wash. not to run so fast, for the passengers were half scared -out of their senses. Wash. simply pointed to the directions to use all -"due exertion" to make up time, and never shut off a bit. So on we flew -to B., forty miles from where we started, and the first stopping place -for the train. Here the conductor came to Wash. again and told him if -he did not run slower, the passengers were going to leave. Wash. said, -"Let them leave," and gave no promises. Some of them did leave, so also -did one of the brakemen, and the baggageman, but away we went without -them to O., where a message from head-quarters was awaiting us, telling -them to take Wash. from the engine and put another man on in his place. -I told him of the message, and picking up his coat, he got off and -staggered to a bench on the stoop of the depot, where he laid down, -seemingly to sleep. I started back to the engine, but Wash. called -after me, and asked me "how we got the orders to take him off?" I told -him "by telegraph." "Humph," said he, rolling over, "_wish I'd known -that, the confounded dispatch never should have passed me!_" - -Wash. of course was not reinstated, but the "plank-roader" never made -the running time of any of the fast trains with any other man on the -"foot-board." - - - - -AN ABRUPT "CALL." - - -"Hi White," as he was familiarly called, was an engineer on the -same road with me. He has been running there for over ten years, -and, although Hi is one of those mad wags who are never so happy as -when "running a rig" on some of their cronies, he was universally -acknowledged to be one of the most competent and careful men that ever -"pulled a plug" on a locomotive. - -In Hi's long career as a runner, he, of course, has met with -innumerable hair-breadth 'scapes; some of them terribly tragic in their -accessories; others irresistibly comic in their termination, although -commencing with fair prospect for a fearful end. Of this latter kind -was an adventure of his, which he used to call "making a morning call -under difficulties." Hi used to run the Morning Express, or, as it was -called, the "Shanghæ run," which left the Southern terminus of the road -at 6 o'clock A.M. It was a "fast run," making the length of the road -(one hundred and forty-one miles) in three and a half hours. Hi ran -the engine Columbia, a fast "machine," with seven feet driving wheels, -and a strong inclination to mount the rail and leave the track on the -slightest provocation. About midway of the road there was a large brick -house, standing but a rod or two from the track and on the outside of -a sharp curve. As Hi was passing the curve one day, running at full -speed, some slight obstruction caused the Columbia to leave the track, -breaking the coupling between it and the train, thus leaving the cars -on the track. Away went the Columbia, making the gravel fly until she -met with an obstruction in the shape of this very brick house, which -the engine struck square in the broad-side, and, with characteristic -contempt of slight obstacles, crashed its way through the wall and on -to the parlor floor, which, being made for lighter tread, gave way and -precipitated the engine into the cellar beneath, leaving only the hind -end of the tender sticking out of the breach in the wall. Hi, who had -jumped off at the first symptom of this furious onslaught, looked to -see if there were any dead or wounded on the field of this "charge of -his heavy brigade." Seeing that he and his fireman were both safe, he -turned his attention to the Columbia, which he found "slightly injured -but safely housed," lying coolly among pork barrels, apple bins and -potato heaps, evidently with no present probability of continuing its -course. By this time the people of the house, who were at breakfast in -the farther part of the building when the furious incursion upon their -domestic economy took place, came rushing out, not knowing whether to -prepare to meet friend or rebel foe. Very naturally the first question -put to Hi (who was renewing vegetable matter for present rumination, -i. e. taking a new chew of tobacco), was, "What's the matter?" This -question was screamed to Hi, with the different intonations of the -various members of the family. Hi coolly surveyed the frightened group -and replied, "Matter--nothing is the matter. I only thought I would -call on you this morning, and pray," said he, with the most winning -politeness, "_don't put yourself to any trouble on my account_." - - - - -THE GOOD LUCK OF BEING OBSTINATE. - - -I think people generally look upon railroad men as a distinct species -of the _genus homo_. They seem to regard them as a class who have the -most utter disregard for human life, as perfectly careless of trusts -imposed upon them, and as being capable of distinctly understanding -rules the most obscure, and circumstances the most complicated. They -seem to think a railroad man is bound to make time any way, in the face -of every difficulty, and to hold him absolutely criminal if he meets -with any accident, or fails to see his way safe out of any trouble into -which their urging may force him. My impression is that they are wrong, -that railroad men have but human courage, but human foresight, and -should be spared the most of the indiscriminate censure heaped upon -them when an accident happens. - -If one were to judge from the words of the press and the finding of -coroners' juries, he would infer that a pure accident, one unavoidable -by human foresight, was a thing unknown; but if he will only think, for -a moment, of all the circumstances, consider the enormous velocity at -which trains move, the tremendous strain thus thrown upon every portion -of the road-bed and the machinery, I think the wonder will be why there -are not more accidents. Think, for a moment, of one or two hundred -tons' weight impelled through the air at a velocity of from one hundred -to two hundred and forty feet per second, and tell me if you do not -consider that the chances for damage are pretty numerous. - -I remember once being detained at a way-station with the Up Express, -waiting for the Down Express to pass me. We were both, owing to snow -and ice on the rails, sadly behind time, and I had concluded just -to wait where I was, until we heard from the other train, though a -liberal construction of the rules gave me the right to proceed "with -due caution;" but I was afraid that, if any thing _did_ happen, there -would be two opinions as to what "due caution" meant, so I held still. -The passengers were all uneasy, as they always are, and stormed and -fretted up and down, now coming to me and demanding, in just about -such tones as we would imagine a newly caught she-bear to use, whether -we intended "to keep them there all night?" whether I supposed "the -traveling public would tamely submit to such outrages?" if I thought -they "had no rights in the premises?" etc. These and similar questions -were put to me, some peevishly, some in a lordly manner, evidently -with the intention of bullying me into a start. I generally maintained -the dirty but independent dignity of my position of "runner of that -kettle;" but these latter Sir Oracles, I told that I was too well used -to dealing with fire, water, steam and rock to be scared by a little -"wind." After a while there came a telegraphic dispatch, unsigned, -undated, but saying, "Come ahead;" this raised a terrible "hillabaloo." -The passengers crowded into the cars and looked for an immediate start. -The conductor came to me and said that he thought we had better start. -I told him "No;" that I infinitely preferred to run on good solid rails -rather than telegraph wires, at all times, and more especially when -the wires brought such lame orders as these "Very well," says he, "I -don't know but you are right, but I shall leave you to _console_ these -passengers--I'm off to hide," and away he went. Pretty soon out they -came by twos, threes, dozens and scores; and I declare they needed -consolation, for a madder set I never saw. Pshaw! talk about "hornets" -and "bob-tailed bulls in fly-time;" they ain't a circumstance to a -passenger on a railroad train which is an hour behind time. Well, -they blustered and stormed, shook their fists at me, and about twenty -took down my name with the murderous intent of "reporting" me at -head-quarters, and "seeing about this thing" generally. At last some -individual, bursting with wrath, called for an indignation meeting. -The call was answered with alacrity. I attended as a disinterested -spectator, of course; a President and Secretary were appointed, several -speeches were made, overflowing with eloquence, and all aimed at me, -but carrying a few shots for every body on the train, even to the -boy that sold papers. This much had been done, and the committee on -"resolutions which should be utterly annihilating," had just retired, -when a whistle was heard up the track, and down came an extra engine, -running as fast as she could, carrying no light, but bringing news that -the "down train" was off the track eleven miles above, and bringing a -requisition for all the doctors in town to care for the wounded, who -were numerous. The "resolution committee" adjourned _sine die_. I was -never reported, for they all saw that, had I done as they wished me -to, I would have met this extra engine and rendered a few more doctors -necessary for my own train. The blunder of the telegraph was never -explained, but blunder it was, and the more firm was I never to obey a -telegraphic dispatch without it was clear and distinct, "signed, sealed -and delivered." - - - - -HUMAN LIVES VS. THE DOLLAR. - - -Cattle and horses on the track are a continual source of annoyance to -engineers, and have been the occasion of many serious accidents. On the -W. & S. Railroad, not many years since, an accident occurred, with the -circumstances of which I was familiar, and which I will relate. - -George Dean was one of the most accomplished and thorough engineers -that I ever knew. He was running the Night Express, a fast run; while -I was running the through freight, and met him at C---- station. I -arrived there one night "on time," but George was considerably behind; -so I had to wait for him. Just before George arrived at the station, he -had to cross a bridge of about 200 feet span; it was a covered bridge, -and the rails were some 30 feet from the water below. - -I had been there waiting for him to pass, for over half an hour, when -I heard his whistle sound at a "blind crossing" about a mile distant; -so I knew he was coming; and as George was a pretty fast runner, I -thought I would stand out on the track and see him come, as the track -was straight, there, for nearly a mile. - -I saw the glimmer of his head-light when he first turned the curve and -entered upon the straight track, and pulled out my watch to time him to -the station, through which he was to pass without stopping. The light -grew brighter and brighter as he advanced with the speed of the wind, -and he was within sixty feet of the bridge, when I saw an animal of -some kind, I then knew not what it was, but it proved to be a horse, -dart out on the track, right in front of the engine. George saw it, I -know, for he gave the whistle for brakes, and a series of short puffs -to scare the horse from the track; but it was of no use; the horse -kept right on and ran towards the bridge. Arrived there, instead of -turning to one side, it gave a jump right on to the bridge, and fell -down between the ties, and there, of course, he hung. On came George's -ponderous engine, and striking the horse, was thrown from the track -into the floor timbers of the bridge, which gave way beneath the weight -and the tremendous concussion, and down went the engine standing upon -its front, the tender dropped in behind it, and the baggage car and -one passenger car were heaped together on top of them both. I saw them -drop, heard the crash, and at once, with the other men of my train, -started to relieve any that might be caught in the wreck. Leaping down -the embankment forming the approach of the bridge, I waded through the -stream to where the engine stood, my fireman following close behind -me. Looking up, we saw George caught on the head of the boiler. He was -able to speak to us, and told us that he was not much hurt, but his -legs were caught so that he could not move, and from the heat of the -boiler he was literally roasting to death. We climbed up to where he -was caught, to see if we could move him or get him out; but alas! he -could not be helped. His legs lay right across the front of the boiler, -and on them were resting some timbers of the broken baggage car, while -the passenger car was so wedged into the bridge that there was no -prospect of lifting it so as to get George out for many hours. I went -and got him some water, and with it bathed his forehead and cooled -his parching lips; he talking to me all the time and sending word to -his wife and children. For a few minutes, he bore up under the pain -most manfully; but at last, it grew too intolerable for any human being -to bear, and George, than whom a braver soul never existed, shrieked -and screamed in his agony. He begged and prayed to die. He entreated -us to kill him, and put an end to his sufferings--he even cursed us -for not doing it, asking us how we could stand and see him roast to -death, knowing, too, as we did and he did, that he could not be saved. -He begged for a knife to kill himself with, as he would rather die by -his own hand at once than to linger in such protracted, awful agony. -Oh! it was terrible, to stand there and see the convulsive twitchings -of his muscles, to hear him pray for death, to watch him as his eyes -set with pain, and hear his agonized entreaties for death any way, no -matter how, so it was quick. At last it was ended, the horrible drama -closed, and he died; but his shrieks will never die out from the memory -of those who heard them. The next day, when we got him out, we found -his legs were literally jammed to pieces and then baked to a cinder. -The fireman we found caught between the trucks of the tender and the -driving-wheel of the engine, and apparently not a bone left whole in -his body; he was utterly smashed to pieces. You could not have told, -only from his clothing, which hung in bloody fragments to his corpse, -that he had ever been a human being. We got them out at last and buried -them. Sadly and solemnly we followed them to the grave, and thought, -with much dread, of when it would be our turn. They lie together, a -plain stone marking their resting-place, and no railroad man ever -visits their graves without a tear in tribute to their memory. - -Thus they died, and thus all that knew them still mourn them. But the -noise of the accident had scarcely ceased echoing amidst the adjoining -hills, ere the owner of the horse was on the ground wishing to know if -any one was there who was authorized to pay for his horse; this, too, -in the face of the fact, afterward proven, that he himself had turned -the horse upon the track, there to filch the feed. - - - - -FORTY-TWO MILES PER HOUR. - - -Nearly every person that we hear speak of travel by rail, thinks that -he has, on numerous occasions, traveled at the rate of sixty miles -an hour; but among engineers this is known to be an extremely rare -occurrence. I myself have run some pretty fast machines, and never -had much fear as to "letting them out," and I never attained that -speed for more than a mile or two on a down grade, and with a light -train, excepting on one or two occasions. Supposing, however, reader, -that we look a little into what an engine has to do in order to run a -mile in a minute, or more time. Say we go down to the depot, and take -a ride on this Morning Express, which goes to Columbus in one hour -and thirty-five minutes, making two stops. We will get aboard of the -Deshler, one of the smartest engines on the road, originally built by -Moore & Richardson, but since then thoroughly overhauled, and in fact -rejuvenated, by that prince of _master_-mechanics, "Dick Bromley." And -you may be sure she is in good trim for good work, as it is a habit -with Dick to have his engines all so. She is run by that little fellow -you see there, always looking good-natured, but getting around his -engine pretty fast. That is "Johnny Andrews," and you can warrant that -if Dick Bromley builds an engine, and Johnny runs her, and you ride -behind her, you will have a pretty fast ride if the time demands it. -The train is seven minutes behind time to-day, reducing the time to -Columbus--55 miles--to one hour and twenty-eight minutes, and that with -this heavy train of ten cars, all fully loaded. After deducting nine -minutes more, that will undoubtedly be lost in making two stops, this -will demand a speed of forty-two miles per hour; which I rather guess -will satisfy you. You see the tender is piled full of wood, enough to -last your kitchen fire for quite a while; but that has got to be filled -again; for, ere we reach Columbus, we shall need two cords and a half. -Look into the tank; you see it is full of water; but we shall have to -take some more; for between here and Columbus, 1558 gallons of water -must be flashed into steam, and sent traveling through the cylinders. - -But we are off; you see this hill is before us; and looking behind, you -will see that another engine is helping us. Notwithstanding that help, -let us see what the Deshler is doing, and how Johnny manages her. She -is carrying a head of steam which exerts on every square inch of the -internal surface of the boiler, a pressure of 120 pounds. Take a glance -at the size of the boiler; it is 17 feet 6 inches long, and 40 inches -in diameter. Inside of it there is the fire-box, 48 inches long, 62 -inches deep, and 36 across. From this to the front of the engine, you -see a lot of flues running. There are 112 of these, 10 feet 6 inches -long, and two inches in diameter; and of the inner surface of all this, -every square inch is subjected to the aforesaid pressure, which amounts -to a pressure of 95,005 pounds on each flue. Don't you think, if there -is a weak place anywhere in this boiler, it will be mighty apt to give -out? And if it does, and this enormous power is let loose at once, -where will you and I go to? Don't be afraid, though; for _this_ boiler -is built strongly; every plate is right and sound. Open that fire-door. -Do you hear that enormously loud cough? That is the noise made by the -escape, through an opening of 31 square inches only, of the steam which -has been at work in the cylinder. You can feel how it shakes the whole -engine. And see how it stirs up the fire. Whew! isn't that rather a -hot-looking hole? The heat there is about 2800° Centigrade scale. But -we begin to go faster. Listen! try if you can count the sounds made by -the escaping steam, which we call the "exhaust." No, you cannot; but -at every one of those sounds, two solid feet of steam has been taken -from the boilers, used in the cylinder, where it exerted on the piston, -which is fourteen inches in diameter, a pressure of nine tons, and then -let out into the air, making, in so doing, that noise. There are four -of those "exhausts" to every revolution of the driving-wheels, during -which revolution we advance only 17-2/3 feet. Now we are up to our -speed, making 208 revolutions, changing 33-1/3 gallons of water into -steam every minute we run, and burning eight solid feet of wood. - -We are now running a mile in one minute and twenty-six seconds; the -driving-wheels are revolving a little more than 3½ times in each -second; and steam is admitted into, and escapes from, the cylinders -fifteen times in a second, exerting each time a force of nearly nine -tons on the pistons. We advance 61 feet per second. Our engine weighs -22 tons; our tender about 17 tons; and each car in the train with -passengers, about 17 tons; so that our whole train weighs, at a rough -calculation, 209 tons, and should we strike an object sufficiently -heavy to resist us, we would exert upon it a momentum of 12,749 tons--a -force hard to resist! - -Look out at the driving-wheels; see how swiftly they revolve. Those -parallel rods, that connect the drivers, each weighing nearly 150 -pounds, are slung around at the rate of 210 times a minute. Don't you -think that enough is required of an engine to run 42 miles per hour, -without making it gain 18 miles in that time? Those tender-wheels, too, -have been turning pretty lively meanwhile--no less than 600 times per -minute. Each piston has, in each minute we have traveled, moved about -700 feet. So you see that, all around, we have traveled pretty fast, -and here we are in Columbus, "on time;" and I take it you are satisfied -with 42 miles per hour, and will never hereafter ask for 60. - -Let us sum up, and then bid good-bye to the Deshler and her -accommodating runner, Johnny Andrews. The drivers have revolved 16,830 -times. Steam has entered and been ejected from the cylinders 67,320 -times. Each piston has traveled 47,766 feet, and we have run only 55 -miles, at the rate of 42 miles per hour. - - - - -USED UP AT LAST. - - -The old proverb, that "the pitcher which goes often to the well returns -broken at last," receives, in the lives of railroad men, frequent -confirmation. I have known some men who have run engines for fifteen -or twenty years and met with no accident worthy of note to themselves, -their trains, or to any of the passengers under their charge; but if -they continue running, the iron hand of fate will surely reach them. - -Old Stephen Hanford, or "Old Steve," as he is called by everybody -who knows him, had been running engines for twenty-five years, with -an exemption from the calamities, the smash-ups and break-downs, -collisions, etc., that usually checker the life of an engineer, that -was considered by everybody most remarkable. Night and day, in rain, -snow and mist, he has driven his engine on over flood and field, and -landed his passengers safely at their journey's end, always. No matter -how hard the storm blew, with sharp forked lightnings, with muttering -thunders, and the pitiless, driving rain, Old Steve's engine, which -from its belching smoke and eating fire seemed the demon of the storm, -came in safe, and the old man, whose eye never faltered, whose vigil -never relaxed, got off from his engine, and after seeing it safely -housed, went to his home, not to dream of the terrors and miseries -of collisions, of the shrieks and groans of victims whom his engine -had trodden down and crushed with tread as resistless as the rush of -mountain torrents. No; all these saddening reflections were spared -him, for he had never had charge of an engine when any fatal accident -happened. Old Steve was one of the most careful men on an engine that I -ever saw. He was always on the watch, and was active as a cat. Nothing -escaped his watchful glance, and in any emergency his presence of mind -never forsook him; he went at once to doing the right thing, and did it -quickly. - -The old man's activity never diminished in the least, but his eyesight -grew weak, and he thought he would leave the main line, and, like an -old war-horse, in his latter days be rid of the hurry-skurry of the -road. So he took a switch engine in the yard at Rochester and worked -there, leaving the fast running in which he delighted to his younger -comrades, many of whom received their first insight to the business -from Old Steve. He had been there about a year at work, very well -contented with his position, a little outside of the great whirling -current of the road on which he had so long labored, and was one day -standing beside his engine, almost as old a stager as himself, when -with an awful crash the boiler exploded. Old Steve was not hurt by -the explosion, but he started back so suddenly that he fell upon the -other track, up which another engine was backing; the engineer of -which, startled, no doubt, by the explosion, did not see the old man, -until too late, and the wheels passed over him, crushing his leg off, -just above the knee. They picked him up and carried him home; "the -pitcher had been often to the well,"--it was broken at last. Owing to -his vigorous constitution, the shock did not kill him; the leg was -amputated, and now, should you ever be in the depot at Rochester, you -will most likely see Old Steve there, hobbling around on one leg and a -pair of crutches, maimed, indeed, but as cheerful as ever. He said to -me, "I am used up, but what right had I to expect any thing else? In -twenty-five years I have bidden good-bye to many a comrade, who, in the -same business, met the stern fate which will most surely catch us all -if we stick to the iron horse." - - - - -A VICTIM OF LOW WAGES. - - -During an absence from home of several weeks, in the past summer, I -traveled in safety, upwards of three thousand miles, but it was not -because the danger was not there, not because the liabilities for -accidents were not as great as ever; it was because human foresight did -not happen to err, and nature happened to be propitious. The strength -of her materials was as much tried as ever, but they were in condition -to resist the strain; so I and my fellow passengers passed safely over -many a place which awoke in me thrilling memories; for in one place, -the gates of death had been in former time apparently swung wide to -ingulf me, but I escaped; at another, I remember to have shut my eyes -and held my breath, while my heart beat short and heavily, as the -ponderous engine, of which I had the control, crushed the bones and -mangled the flesh of some poor wight caught upon the track, to save -whom I had exercised every faculty I possessed, but all in vain; he -was too near, and my train too heavy for me to stop in time to spare -him. I met many of my old cronies during my absence, and, inquiring for -others, heard the long-expected but saddening news, that they had gone; -their running was over, the dangers they had so often faced overcame -them at last, and now they sleep where "signal lights" and the shrill -whistle denoting danger, which have so often called all their faculties -into play to prevent destruction and save life, are no longer heard. -Others I met, who, in some trying time, had been caught and crushed -by the very engines they had so often held submissive to their will, -and now, maimed and crippled, they must hobble along till the almost -welcome voice of death bids them come and lay their bones beside their -comrades in danger, who have gone before. - -A little paragraph in the papers last winter, announced that a gravel -train, of which Hartwell Stark was engineer, and James Burnham -conductor, had collided with a freight train, on the N. Y. C. R. R.; -that the fireman was killed, and the engineer so badly hurt that he was -not expected to live. Perhaps a fuller account of this catastrophe -may be instructive in order to show the risks run by railroad men, the -responsibility resting upon the most humble of them, and the enormous -amount of suffering a man is capable of enduring and yet live. This -gravel train "laid up" for the night at Clyde, and in the morning -early, as soon as the freight trains bound west had passed, proceeded -out upon the road to its work. It was the duty of the switchman to -see that the trains had all passed, and report the same to the men in -charge of the gravel train. This morning it was snowing very hard, -the wind blew strong from the east, and take it altogether, it was a -most unpleasant time, and one very likely to put all trains behind. -Knowing this, the conductor and engineer both asked the switchman if -the freights had all passed. He replied positively that they had. -So, without hesitation, they proceeded to their work. They had left -their train of gravel cars at a "gravel pit," some sixteen miles -distant; so with the engine backing up and dragging the "caboose," -in which were about thirty men, they started. They had got about ten -miles on their way, the wind and snow still blowing in their faces, -rendering it almost impossible for them to see any thing ahead, -even in daylight--utterly so in the darkness of that morning, just -before day--when, out of the driving storm, looking a very demon of -destruction, came thundering on at highest speed, the freight train, -which the switchman had so confidently reported as having passed an -hour before they left Clyde. The engineer of the freight train jumped, -and said that before he struck the ground he heard the collision. Hart -tried to reverse his engine, but had not time to do it; so he could -not jump, but was caught in the close embrace of those huge monsters. -The freight engine pushed the "tender" of his engine up on to the -"foot-board." It divided; one part crushed the fireman up against the -dome and broke in the "fire-door;" the wood piled over on top of him, -and the flames rushing out of the broken door soon set it on fire, -and there he lay till he was taken out, eighteen hours afterward, -a shapeless cinder of humanity. The other part caught Hart's hips -between it and the "run-board," and rolled him around for about six -feet, breaking both thigh-bones; and to add to his sufferings a piece -of the "hand-rail" was thrust clear through the flesh of both legs, -and twisted about there till it made gashes six inches long. The steam -pipe being broken off, the hissing steam prevented his feeble cries -from being heard, and as every man in the "caboose" was hurt, Hart -began to think that iron rack of misery must surely be his death-bed. -At last, however, some men saw him, but at first they were afraid -to come near, being fearful of an explosion of the boiler. Soon, -however, some more bold than the rest went to work, and procuring a T -rail, they proceeded to pry the wreck apart, and release him from his -horrible position. And so, after being thus suspended and crushed for -over half an hour, he was taken down, put upon a hand-car, and taken -to his home at Clyde, which place he reached in five hours after the -accident. No one expected him to live. The physicians were for an -immediate amputation of both limbs, but to this Hart stoutly objected. -So they finally agreed to wait forty-eight hours and see. At the end -of that time--owing to his strong constitution and temperate habits -of life--the inflammation was so light they concluded to leave poor -Hart with both his legs, and there he has lain ever since. For twelve -weeks he was never moved from his position in the bed, his clothes were -never changed, and he never stirred so much as an inch; and even to -this day--May 20th--he is unable to turn in the bed, though he can sit -up, and when I saw him, was sitting in the stoop cutting potatoes for -planting, and apparently as happy as a child, to think he could once -more snuff fresh air. - -I should think that such accidents (and they are of frequent -occurrence) would teach the managers of railroads that the policy of -hiring men who can be hired for twenty-five dollars a month, and who -have so little judgment as to sleep on their posts, and then make such -reports as this switchman did, endangering not only the property of -the company, but also jeopardizing the lives of brave and true men -like Hart Stark, and subjecting them to these lingering tortures, is -suicidal to their best interests. Would not an extra ten dollars a -month to all switchmen be a good investment, if in the course of a -year it saved the life of one poor fireman, who otherwise would die as -this poor fellow did; or if it saved one cool and true man from the -sufferings Hart Stark has for the past five months endured? - - - - -CORONERS' JURIES VS. RAILROAD MEN. - - -Coroner's juries are, beyond a doubt, a very good institution, and -were established for a good purpose; they investigate sudden deaths, -while the matter is still fresh, before the cause has become hidden or -obscured by lapse of time, and in most cases they undoubtedly arrive at -a just conclusion; but in cases of railroad accidents, I never yet knew -one that was not unjust, to a greater or less degree, in its verdict -against employees of the company on the train at the immediate time of -the occurrence. - -I know that in saying this I fly into the face of all the newspapers -of the land, for they have a stereotyped sneer in these words, "_Of -course_ nobody was to blame," at every coroner's jury that fails to -censure somebody, or to adjudge some one guilty of wilful murder. -Nevertheless I believe it, and unhesitatingly declare it. Most -generally it is the engineer and conductor who are censured, sometimes -the brakemen or switchmen; but rarely or never is it the right one who -is branded and placed in the newspaper pillory as unfit to occupy any -position of trust, and guilty of the death of those killed and the -wounds of those wounded. As to an accident that could not be avoided -by human forethought, that idea is scouted, and if a coroner's jury -does ever so far forget what is expected of it by these editors--who -are the self-elected bull-dogs of society, and must needs bark or lose -their dignity--why no words are sufficiently sarcastic, no sentences -sufficiently bitter, to express the contempt which they feel for that -benighted coroner's jury. To be sure they know nothing, or next to -nothing, of the circumstances, and the jury knows _all_ about them. To -be sure, iron will break and so will wood; the insidious frost will -creep in where man cannot probe, and render as brittle as glass what -should be tough as steel; watches will go wrong, and no hundred men can -be found who will on all occasions give one interpretation to the same -words. But what of that? - -Why, the bare idea that any accident upon any road can happen, and -some poor devil of an engineer, conductor, brakeman or switchman not -be ready at hand, to be made into a pack-horse on whom to pile all the -accumulated bile of these men who, many of them, have some private -grudge to satisfy--the idea, I say, is preposterous to these men, and -they fulminate their thunders against railroad men, until community -gets into the belief that virtue, honesty, integrity or common dog -sense are things of which a railroad man must necessarily be entirely -destitute; and they are looked upon with distrust, they are driven -to become clannish, and frequently, I must confess, any thing but -polite to the traveling public, whose only greeting to them is gruff -fault-finding, or an incessant string of foolish questions. But are -they so much to blame for this? Would you, my reader, "cast your pearls -before swine?" and can you particularly blame men for not being over -warm to the traveling community which almost invariably treats them as -machines, destitute of feeling, for whose use it pays so much a mile? -Railroad men, though, are not impolite, nor short to everybody. Ask -a jovial, good-natured man, who has a smile and a pleasant word for -everybody, and I'll warrant he will tell you that he gets treated well -enough on railroads; that the engineer answers his questions readily; -that the brakeman sees that he has a seat; that his baggage is not -bursted open every trip he takes, and the conductor does not wake him -up out of his sleep every five minutes to ask for his ticket. But ask -a pursy, lordly individual, whose lack of brains is atoned for by the -capacity of his stomach, who never asks for any thing, always orders -it, and who always praises the last road he was on, and d----s the one -he is now on; or ask a vinegar-looking, hatchet-faced old maid, who -has eight bandboxes, a parasol, an umbrella, a loose pair of gloves, a -work-bag and a poodle dog, who always has either such a cold that she -knows she "shall die unless that window in front is put down," or else -is certain that she "shall suffocate unless more air is let into the -car," and who is continually asking whoever she sees with a badge on, -whether the "biler is going to bust," or if "that last station ain't -the one she bought her ticket for?"--ask either of these (and there are -a great many travelers who, should they see this, would declare that -I meant to be personal), and they will tell you that railroad men are -"rascals, sir! scamps, sir! every one of them, sir! Why, only the other -day I had a bran-new trunk, and I particularly cautioned the baggageman -and conductor to be careful, and would you believe it, sir? when I got -it, two--yes, sir! two--of the brass nails were jammed. Railroad men, -from the dirty engineer to the stuck-up conductor, are bent on making -the public as uncomfortable as they can, sir!" Reader, take my advice, -and when you want any thing, go to the proper person and politely ask -for it, and you will get it; but don't jump off and ask the engineer at -every station how far it is to the next station? and how fast he ever -did run? and if he ever knew John Smith of the Pontiac, and Buckwheat -of the Sangamon and Pollywog road, one or the other, but really you -forget which; but no matter, he must know him, for he looked so and -so. Take care; while you are describing the venerable John Smith, that -long oil-can may give an ugly flirt, and your wife have good cause for -grumbling at your greasy cassimere inexpressibles; or a wink from the -engineer to his funny fireman, may open that "pet cock," and your face -get washed with rather nasty feeling water, and the shock might not be -good for you. Don't bore the conductor with too many questions. If you -ask civil questions, he will civilly answer you; but if you bore him -too much by asking how fast "this ingine can run?" he may get cross, or -he may tell how astonishingly fast the celebrated and mythical Thomas -Pepper used to run the equally celebrated and mythical locomotive, -"Blowhard." I started this article to tell a story illustrating my -opinion of coroners' juries, but have turned it into a sort of homily -on the grievances of railroad men. No matter; the story will keep, and -the traveling people deserve a little talking to about the way they -treat railroad men. - - - - -ADVENTURES OF AN IRISH RAILROAD MAN. - - -On a railroad, as everywhere else, one meets with decidedly "rich" -characters--those whose every act is mirth-provoking, and who, as the -Irishman said, "can't open their mouths without putting their fut in -it." Such an one was Billy Brown, who has been, for nearly thirteen -years, a brakeman on one road; who has run through and escaped many -dangers; who has seen many an old comrade depart this life for--let -us hope, a better one. Scarce an accident has happened on the road in -whose employ he has been so long, but Billy has somehow been there; and -always has Billy been kind to his dying friends. Many a one of them -has breathed out his last sigh in Billy's ear; and I have often heard -him crooning out some wild Irish laments (for Billy is a full-blooded -Patlander), as he held in his lap the head of some of his comrades -whose life was fast ebbing away from a mangled limb. I well remember -one time, when one of Billy's particular cronies, Mike--the other name -has escaped my memory--was missing from the train to which he was -attached. A telegraphic dispatch was sent to the last station to see -if he was left there; but, no! he was seen to get aboard the train as -it left the station. So the conclusion was clear that Mike had fallen -off somewhere on the road. Half a dozen of us, Billy with the rest, -jumped into a hand-car, and went back to find him. We went once over -the road without seeing any thing; but, as we came back, on passing the -signboard which said "80 rods to the drawbridge," we saw some blood on -it; and, on looking down under the trestlework, we saw poor Mike's body -lying half in the water and half on the rocks. It was but an instant -ere we were down there; but the first look convinced us that he was -dead. As the train was passing over the bridge, he had incautiously -put out his head to look ahead, and it had come in contact with the -signboard, and was literally smashed flat. No sooner had the full -conviction that Mike was dead taken possession of Billy, than he whops -down on his knees, and commences kissing the fellow's bloody face, at -the same time, with many tears, apostrophizing his body somewhat after -this fashion: "Oh! wirra, wirra, Mike dear! Mike dear! and is this the -way ye're afther dyin' to git yer bloody ould hed smashed in wid a -dirty old guideboord?" - -We all felt sad, and sympathized fully with Billy's grief; but the -ludicrousness with which he expressed it, was too much for any of us; -and we turned away, not to hide a tear, but to suppress a smile, and -choke down a laugh. - -But Billy was very clannish; and, to use his own expression, "the -passenger might go hang, if there was any of the railroad byes in the -muss." But as soon as Billy's fears as to any of his comrades being -injured were allayed, no man could be more efficient than he in giving -aid to anybody. Billy was true to duty, and never forgot what to do, -if it was only in the usual routine of his business. Outside of that, -however, he could commit as many Irish bulls as any one. - -I well remember one night I had the night freight to haul. We were -going along pretty good jog, when the bell rang for me to stop. I -stopped and looked back to see what could be the matter. I saw no stir; -so after waiting awhile, I started back to see if I could find any -one. After getting back about twenty cars, I found that the train was -broken in two, and that the rest of the cars were away back out of -sight. I hallooed to my fireman to bring a light, and started on foot -back around the curve, to see where they were. I got to the curve, and -saw a light coming up the track towards me; the man who carried it was -evidently running as fast as he could. I stopped to see who it was; and -in a few moments he approached near enough to hail me--when, mistaking -me for a trackman, and without slackening his speed the least, Billy -Brown--for it was he--bellowed out, with a voice like a stentor, only -broken by his grampus-like blowing, "I say, I say, did yees see iver -innything of a train goin' for Albany like h--l jist now?" I believe I -never did laugh quite so heartily in my life, as I did then; and Billy, -turning around, addressed me in the most aggrieved manner possible, -saying: "Pon me sowl now, Shanghi, its mighty mane of yees to be -scarin' the life out of me wid that laff of yours, an' I strivin' as -hard as iver I could to catch up wid yees, and bring yees back, to take -the resht of yere train which ye were afther lavin in the road a bit -back." - -Another adventure of Billy's, at which we liked to have killed -ourselves with laughter, and Billy himself liked to have died from -fright, occurred in this wise: I was taking the stock train down the -road one very dark night, and Billy was one of the brakemen. Attached -to the rear of the train were five empty emigrant cars, which we were -hauling over the road. I was behind time, and was running about as -fast as I could, to make up the lost time; when the bell rang for me -to stop. I stopped; and going back to see what was the matter, I found -that two of the emigrant cars had become detached from the train, and -been switched off into the river, just there very close to the track -and very deep; and there they lay, one of them clear out of sight, -and the other cocked up at an angle of about 45 degrees, with one end -sticking out of the water about six feet. On looking around, I found -that all the men were there on hand, except Billy; and he was nowhere -to be found. We at last concluded that he must have been in the cars -that were thrown into the river, and was drowned. But in this we were -soon shown our error; for, from the car that was sticking out of the -water, came a confused sound of splashing, and praying, and swearing, -which soon convinced us that Billy was at least not dead. We hallooed -at him, and asked him if he was hurt. His answer was, "Divil a hurt, -but right nigh drowned; an how'll I get out o' this?" We told him to -get out of the door. "But it's locked." "Unlock it then." "Shure, frow -me a kay an' I will." "Where is your own key?" "Divil a wan o' me -knows. Gone drownded I ixpect." "How deep is the water where you are, -Billy?" "Up till me chin, an' the tide a risin'. Oh! murther, byes, -hilp me out o' this; for I'm kilt intirely wid the wet and the cowld -and the shock til me syshtem----" But we told him we couldn't help him, -and that he must crawl out of a window. "Howly Moses," says Billy, "an' -don't ye know these is imigrant cars, an' the windows all barred across -to kape thim fules from sticking out their heads? an' how'll I get out? -Byes, byes, wad ye see me drown, an' I so close to land, an' in a car -to bute? Ah! now cease yere bladgin, an' hilp me out o' this." After -bothering him to our hearts' content, we got a plank, and crawled out -to the car, only about ten feet from shore, and cutting a hole in the -top, soon had Billy at liberty. - - - - -A BAD BRIDGE. - - -One cold winter's night, while I was running on the H---- Road, I was -to take the Night Express down the road. The day had been excessively -stormy; the snow had fallen from early dawn till dark, and blown and -drifted so on the track, that all trains were behind time. Especially -was this so on the upper end of the road; the lower end, over which -I was to run, was not so badly blockaded; in fact, on the southern -portion, the storm had been of rain. The train came in three hours -behind, consisting of twenty cars, all heavily loaded with grumbling, -discontented passengers. This was more of a train than I could handle -with my engine, even on the best of rail; but where the rail was -so slippery with snow or ice as it was that night, it was utterly -impossible for me to do any thing with it. So, orders were given for -another engine to couple in with me; and George P----, with the Oneida, -did so. - -I was on the lead. George coupled in behind me. We both had fast -"machines;" and in a little quiet talk we had before starting, we -resolved to do some pretty fast running where we could. - -The hungry passengers at last finished their meal, it being a -refreshment station; the bell was rang; "all aboard" shouted; and we -pulled out. Like twin brothers those engines seemed to work. Their -"exhausts" were as one, and each with giant strength tugged at the -train. We plowed through the snow, and it flew by us in fleecy, -feathery flakes, on which our lights shone so bright that it seemed as -if we were plunging into a cloud of silver dust. On! on! we rushed; the -few stops we had to make were made quickly; and past the stations at -which we were not to stop, we rushed thunderingly: a jar, a rumble, a -shriek of the whistle, and the glimmering station-lights were away back -out of sight. - -At last we were within fourteen miles of the terminus of our journey. -Both engines were doing their utmost, and the long train behind us was -trailing swiftly on. Soon the tedious night-ride would be over; soon -the weary limbs might rest. We were crossing a pile bridge in the -middle of which was a draw. The rising of the water in the river had -lifted the ice, which was frozen to the piles, and thus, I suppose, -weakened the bridge, so that, when our two heavy engines struck it, it -gave away. I was standing at my post, when, by the sudden strain and -dropping of the engine, I knew that we were off the track, but had no -idea of the real nature of the calamity. My engine struck her forward -end upon the abutments of the bridge, knocking the forward trucks from -under her. She held there but an instant of time; but in that instant -I and my fireman sprang upon the runboard, and from thence to the -solid earth. We turned in time to see the two engines go down into the -water, there thirty feet deep; and upon them were piled the baggage, -mail and express cars, while the passenger cars were some thrown from -the track on one side, some on the other. The terrible noise made by -the collision and the hissing made by the cold waters wrapping the -two engines in their chill embrace, deafened and appalled us for an -instant; but the next, we were running back to help the wounded. We -found many wounded and seven dead amidst the wreck of the cars; but -seven more were missing, and among them were six of the railroad men. -After searching high and low, amidst the portion of the wreck on dry -land, we with one accord looked shudderingly down into those black, -chilling waters, and knew that there they lay dead. All night long we -sat there. The wild wintry blasts howled around us; the cold waters -gurgled and splashed amid the wreck; we could hear the wounded groan -in their pains; but we listened in vain for the voices we were wont to -hear. The chill tide, over which the ice was even then congealing anew, -covered them. Mayhap they were mangled in the collision, and their -shriek of pain was hushed and drowned as the icy waters rippled in over -their lips. We almost fancied, when we threw the light of our lanterns -upon the black flood, that we could see their white faces turned up -toward us, frozen into a stony, immovable look of direst fear and -agonizing entreaty. - -Morning came, and still we could not reach our friends and comrades. -Days went by before they were found, but when found each man was at his -post. None had jumped or flinched, all went down with the wreck, and -were found jammed in; but their countenances wore no look of fear, the -icy waters that congealed their expression, did not find a coward's -look among them; all wore a stern, unflinching expression that would -have shown you, had you seen them just ere they went down, that they -would do as they did do, stick bravely to their posts, and go down with -the wreck, doing their duty at the cost of their lives. - - - - -A WARNING. - - -I am not, nor was I ever, superstitious. I do not believe in dreams, -signs, witches, hobgoblins, nor in any of the rest of that ilk with -which antiquated maidens were in olden time used to cheer the drooping -spirits of childhood, and send us urchins off to our bed, half scared -to death, expecting to see some horrid monster step out from every -corner of the room, and in unearthly accents declare his intention to -"grind our bones for coffee," or do something else equally horrid, -the contemplation of which was in an equal degree unfitted to render -our sleep sound or our rest placid. Somehow the visitors from the -other world, that children used to be told of, were never pretty nor -angelic, but always more devilish than any thing else. But in these -days, this has changed; for the ghosts in which gullible people -deal now, are preëminently silly things. They use their superhuman -strength in tumbling parlor furniture about the rooms, and in drumming -on the floors and ceilings of bed-rooms. The old proverb is, that -"every generation grows weaker and wiser." In this respect, however, -we have reversed the proverb; for a great many have grown stronger -in gullibility and weaker in intellect, else we would not have so -many spiritualists who wait for God and His angels to thump out their -special revelations, or else tumble a table about the room to the tune -of A B C. - -I have known, as have many, probably all of my readers, a great many -people who professed to have the firmest faith in dreams and signs, -who were always preadmonished of every event by some supernatural -means, and who invariably are looking out for singular events when they -have been visited by a singular dream. I have never believed in these -things, have always laughed at them, and do so still. Yet there is one -circumstance of my life, of this kind, that is shrouded in mystery, -that I cannot explain, that I know to be so, and yet can scarcely -believe, when a warning was given to me somehow, I know not how, that -shook me and influenced me, despite my ridicule of superstition and -disbelief in signs or warnings of any kind; so that I heeded it, and, -by so doing, saved myself from instant death, and saved also many -passengers who, had they known of the "warning" which influenced me to -take the steps which I did, would have laughed at me, and endeavored -to drive me on. The facts are briefly as follows--I tell them, not -attempting to explain them, nor offering any theory concerning -them--neither pretending that angels or devils warned me, and only -knowing that it was so: - -I was running a Night Express train, and had a train of ten cars--eight -passenger and two baggage cars--and all were well loaded. I was behind -time, and was very anxious to make a certain point; therefore I was -using every exertion, and putting the engine to the utmost speed -of which she was capable. I was on a section of the road usually -considered the best running ground on the line, and was endeavoring to -make the most of it, when a conviction struck me that I must stop. A -something seemed to tell me that to go ahead was dangerous, and that I -must stop if I would save life. I looked back at my train, and it was -all right. I strained my eyes and peered into the darkness, and could -see no signal of danger, nor any thing betokening danger, and there -I could see five miles in the daytime. I listened to the working of -my engine, tried the water, looked at the scales, and all was right. -I tried to laugh myself out of what I then considered a childish -fear; but, like Banquo's ghost, it would not down at my bidding, but -grew stronger in its hold upon me. I thought of the ridicule I would -have heaped upon me, if I did stop; but it was all of no avail. The -conviction--for by this time it had ripened into a conviction--that I -must stop, grew stronger, and I resolved to stop; and I shut off, and -blew the whistle for brakes, accordingly. I came to a dead halt, got -off, and went ahead a little way, without saying any thing to anybody -what was the matter. I had my lamp in my hand, and had gone about sixty -feet, when I saw what convinced me that premonitions are sometimes -possible. I dropped the lantern from my nerveless grasp, and sat down -on the track, utterly unable to stand; for there was a switch, the -thought of which had never entered my mind, as it had never been used -since I had been on the road, and was known to be spiked, but which -now was open to lead me off the track. This switch led into a stone -quarry, from whence stone for bridge purposes had been quarried, and -the switch was left there, in case stone should be needed at any time; -but it was always kept locked, and the switch-rail spiked. Yet here it -was, wide open; and, had I not obeyed my preadmonition--warning--call -it what you will--I should have run into it, and, at the end of the -track, only about ten rods long, my heavy engine and train, moving at -the rate of forty-five miles per hour, would have come into collision -with a solid wall of rock, eighteen feet high. The consequences, had I -done so, can neither be imagined nor described; but they could, by no -possibility, have been otherwise than fatally horrid. - -This is my experience in getting warnings from a source that I know not -and cannot divine. It is a mystery to me--a mystery for which I am very -thankful, however, although I dare not attempt to explain it, nor say -whence it came. - - - - -SINGULAR ACCIDENTS. - - -The brothers G. are well known to all travelers by the route of -the N. Y. C. R. R. They have been a long time employed there, and -by the traveling public and the company that employ them they are -universally esteemed; but the star of them all, the one most loved -by his companions in toil, respected by travelers, and trusted by -his employers, was Thomas, who met with his death in one of those -calamitous accidents which so frequently mar the career of the railroad -man. I was an eye-witness of the accident, and shall attempt to -describe it. - -The day on which it occurred was a glorious summer one; the breeze -wafted a thousand pleasant odors to my senses; the birds sang their -sweetest songs. As I was journeying along the highway between Weedsport -and Jordan, I heard the rumble of the approaching train, and as -from where I was I could get a fair view of the passing train, which -was the fastest on the road and was behind time a few minutes, I -stopped to watch it as it passed. On it came, the sun glancing on the -polished engine as it sped along like the wind. The track where I -had stopped, was crossed by two roads, one of them crossing at right -angles, the other diagonally; between the two crossings there was -a large pile of ties placed, probably eight feet from the track. I -saw the engine, which was running at full speed, pass the pile, when -suddenly, without warning, in a second of time, the cars went piling -and crashing over the bank into a promiscuous heap, crushed into each -other like egg-shells. One of them, a full-sized car, turned a complete -somersault; another was turned once and a half around, and lay with -one end down in the ditch, and the other up to the track, while the -third went crashing into its side. I hitched my horse and ran over to -the scene, expecting, of course, that not a soul would be found alive; -arrived there, I found that no person was killed but poor Tom, and not -over a dozen hurt, although the cars were crowded, and not a seat was -left whole in the cars, which were perfectly riddled. They had already -found Tom's body, which lay under the truck of the first passenger -car, which had been torn out, and one wheel lay on his neck. He had -no need of care, no need of sympathy, for the first crash killed him; -and so with no notice, no warning, no moment for a faintly whispered -good-bye to those he loved, poor Tom passed away to the unknown shore, -leaving many friends to grieve for him. - -We got him out, laid him beside the track, and stood solemnly by; -grieving that he, our friend, had gone and left no message for the -wife who idolized him, the brothers who had loved him, or the friends -who so fully appreciated his many noble qualities. While we stood thus -speechless with heartfelt, choking grief, a man came up and asked for -the man who had charge of the train. Some one, I forget who, pointed to -the mangled form of poor Tom and said, "There is all that is mortal of -him." Said the thing--I will not call him man--"Dear me! I'm sorry; I -wanted to find some one to pay for my cow." - -It was his cow that had caused the accident, by jumping out against the -baggage car after the engine had passed. - -Another singular accident occurred on a road in the State of New York. -An engine, to which something had happened that required a couple -of sticks of wood out on the run-board as fulcrum for a lever, was -passing through a station at full speed, when one of the sticks, that -had carelessly been left outside, fell off and was struck by the end of -the main rod on the backward stroke; impelled backwards by the force -of the blow, it struck a man, standing carelessly beside the track, -full on the side of the head, fracturing his skull, and killing him -instantly. - - - - -LUDICROUS INCIDENTS. - - -There is not often much that is comic on the "rail," but occasionally -an incident occurs that brings a loud guffaw from everybody who -witnesses it. - -I remember once standing by the side of an engine that was switching -in the yard. The fellow who was running it I thought, from his actions -while oiling, was drunk, so I watched him. He finished oiling, and -clambered up on to the foot-board and attempted, in obedience to the -orders of the yard-man, to start out. He jerked and jerked at the -throttle-lever, but all to no effect; the engine would not budge an -inch. I saw from where I stood what was the matter, and although nearly -bursting with laughter, I refrained from telling him, but looked on to -see the fun. After pulling for at least a dozen times, he bawled out -to the yard-man that he couldn't go, and then gave another twitch, but -it was of no use; then he stepped back a step or two and looked at the -throttle, with a look of the most stupid amazement that I ever saw; his -face expressed the meaning of the word "dumbfoundered" completely. At -last the fireman showed him what was the matter. It was simply that he -had set the thumb-screw on the throttle-lever and neglected to unloose -it, in each of his efforts. - -Another laughable affair occurred on one of the Eastern roads, I forget -which. An engine stood on the switch, all fired up and ready to start; -the hands were all absent at dinner. A big black negro, who was loafing -around the yard, became exceedingly inquisitive as to how the thing was -managed--so up he gets and began to poke around. He threw the engine -into the forward gear and gave it steam, of course not knowing what he -was doing; but of that fact the engine was ignorant, and at once, like -a mettled steed, it sprung to full speed and away it went, carrying the -poor darkey an unwilling dead-head ride. He did not know how to stop -it, and dare not jump, for, as he himself expressed it, when found, -"Gorra mity, she mos flew." The engine of course ran until steam ran -down, which was not in fourteen miles, and Mr. Darkey got off and put -for the woods. He didn't appear at that station again for over a week. -He said that "ef de durn ting had a gon much furder he guessed he'd a -bin white folks." - -"Ol Long," an old friend of mine, tells a pretty good story about an -old white horse that he struck once. Ol says that he was running at -about thirty miles an hour, when an old white horse jumped out on the -track right in front of the engine, which struck him and knocked him -away down into the ditch, where he lay heels up. He of course expected -that the horse was killed, and so reported on arriving at the end of -the road; but what was his surprise, on returning the next day, to see -the self-same old nag quietly eating by the side of the road. Ol says -he believes the old fellow did look rather sour at him, but he could -not apologize. - - - - -EXPLOSIONS. - - -It is easy to account for explosions of boilers on the hypothesis of -too great pressure; but it is hardly ever very easy--frequently utterly -impossible--to account for the causes which induce that overpressure. -There are, to be sure, a number of reasons which may be advanced. The -engineer may have screwed the scales down too much, and thus, the -safety-valve not operating to let off the surplus steam, a force may be -generated within the boiler of such tremendous power that the strong -iron will be rent and torn like tissue-paper. This I say may occur, but -in my experience I never knew of such a case. Then again, the water may -get so low in the boiler that, on starting the engine and injecting -cold water upon the hot plates, steam will be generated so suddenly as -not to find vent, and in such enormous quantities and of so high a -temperature as to explode the strongest boiler. Again, the water may be -allowed to get low in the boiler, and the plates getting extremely hot, -the motion of the train would generate steam enough by splashing water -against them to cause an explosion. A proper care and due attention to -the gauges would obviate this, and render explosion from these causes -impossible. A piece of weak or defective iron, too, may have been put -into the boiler at the time of its manufacture, and go on apparently -safe for a long time, until at last it gives way under precisely the -same pressure of steam that it has all along held with safety, or it -may be with even less than it has often carried. How the engineer is to -obviate this most fruitful cause of explosions, for the life of me I -cannot see; still if his engine does blow up, everybody and their wives -will believe that it happened entirely through his neglect. A person -who has never seen an explosion, can form no idea of the enormous -power with which the iron is rent. I saw one engine that had exploded, -at a time too when, according to the oaths of three men, it had a -sufficiency of water and only 95 lbs. of steam to the square inch, and -was moving at only an ordinary speed, yet it was blown 65 feet from -the track, and the whole of one side, from the "check joint" back to -the "cab," was torn wide open--the lower portion hanging down to the -ground, folded over like a table-leaf, and the other portion lay clear -over to the other side, while from the rent, the jagged ends of more -than half of the flues projected, twisted into innumerable shapes. The -frame on that side was broken, and the ends stuck out from the side at -right angles with their former position. I saw another, where the whole -boiler front was blown out and the engine tipped clear over backwards -on to the tender and freight car, where the engineer and fireman were -found, crushed into shapeless masses, lying in the midst of the wreck. -The engine Manchester exploded while standing at a station on the H. -R. R. R., and killed two out of five men, who were standing together -beside the tender. Two of those who were left, deposed, on oath, that -not three minutes before the accident occurred, the engineer tried the -water and found fully three gauges, while there was a pressure of only -ninety-five pounds to the square inch, and it was blowing off. - -How to account for it no one could tell, so every one who knew any -thing whatever in regard to such things, called it "another of the -mysterious visitations of God." But the newspapers called it an -evidence of gross carelessness on the part of the engineer. - -Several explosions have been known where the upper tubes were found -unhurt, while the lower ones were, some of them, found badly burnt. The -conclusion in these cases was that the tubes were too close together, -and the water was driven away from them; consequently the starting -of the engine, or the pumping of cold water into the boiler, was -sufficient to cause an explosion. - - - - -HOW A FRIEND WAS KILLED. - - -There is among the remembrances of my life as a railroad man, one of -such sadness, that I never think of it without a sigh. Every man, -unless he be so morose that he cannot keep a dog, has his particular -friends; those in whom he confides, and to whom he is always cheerful; -whose society he delights in, and the possibility of whose death, he -will never allow himself to admit. - -Such a friend had I in George H----. We were inseparable--both of -us unmarried; we would always manage to board together, and on all -possible occasions to be together. Did George's engine lay up for the -Sunday at one end of the road, and mine at the other, one of us was -sure to go over the road "extra," in order that we might be together. - -George and I differed in many respects, but more especially in this, -that whereas I was one of the "fast" school of runners, who are never -so contented with running as when mounted on a fast engine, with an -express train, and it behind time. George preferred a slow train, -where, as he said, his occupation was "killing time," not "making" it. -So while I had the "Baltic," a fast engine, with drivers six feet and -a half in diameter, and usually ran express trains, George had the -"Essex," a freight engine, with four feet drivers. - -One Saturday night I took the last run north, and was to "lay over" -with my engine for the Sunday at the northern terminus of the road, -until two o'clock Monday P. M. George had to run the "Night Freight" -down that night, and as we wished particularly to be together the -next day, I concluded to go "down the line" with him. Starting time -came, and off we started. I rode for awhile in the "caboose," as the -passenger car attached to a freight train is called, but as the night -was warm and balmy, the moon shining brightly, tinging with silvery -white the great fleecy clouds that swept through the heaven, like -monstrous floating islands of snow drifting over the fathomless waters -of the sea, I went out and rode with George on the engine. The night -was indeed most beautiful, the moonlight shimmering across the river, -which the wind disturbed and broke into many ripples, made it to glow -and shine like a sea of molten silver. The trees beside the track -waved and beckoned their leafy tops, looking sombre and weird in the -half-darkness of the night. The vessels we saw upon the river, gliding -before the freshening breeze, with their signal lights glimmering -dimly, and the occasional steamers with light streaming from every -window, and the red light of their fires casting an unearthly glare -upon the waters; these all combined to make the scene spread before us, -as we rushed shrieking and howling over the road, one of unexcelled -beauty. We both gazed at it, and said that if all scenes in the life of -a railroad man were as beautiful as this we would wish no other life. - -But something ailed George's engine. Her pumps would not work. After -tinkering with them awhile, he asked the fireman if there was plenty of -water in the tank; the fireman said there was, but to make assurance -doubly sure I went and looked, and lo! there was not a drop! Before -passing through the station George had asked the fireman if there was -plenty of water. He replied that there was; so George had run through -the station, it not being a regular stopping place for the train, and -here we were in a fix. George thought he could run from where we had -stopped to the next water station; so he cut loose from the train and -started. We had stopped on the outside of a long curve, to the other -end of which we could see; it was fully a half mile, but the view was -straight across the water--a bay of the river sweeping in there, around -which the track went. - -In about twenty minutes after George had left we saw him coming around -the farthest point of the curve; the brakeman at once took his station -with his light at the end of the cars, to show George precisely where -the train stood. The engine came swiftly towards us, and I soon saw he -was getting so near that he could not stop without a collision, unless -he reversed his engine at once; so I snatched the lamp from out the -brakeman's hands, and swung it wildly across the track, but it was of -no avail. On came the engine, not slackening her speed the least. We -saw somebody jump from the fireman's side, and in the instant of time -allowed us, we looked to see George jump, but no! he stuck to his post, -and there came a shock as of a mountain falling. The heavy freight -engine running, as it was, at as high a rate of speed as it could -make, crashed into the train; thirteen cars were piled into a mass of -ruins, the like of which is seldom seen. The tender was turned bottom -side up, with the engine lying atop of it, on its side. The escaping -steam shrieked and howled; the water, pouring in on to the fire, -crackled and hissed; the stock (sheep and cattle) that were in the -cars bellowed and bleated in their agony, and it seemed as if all the -legions of hell were there striving to make a pandemonium of that quiet -place by the river-side. As soon as we recovered from the shock and got -used to the din which at first struck terror to our hearts--and I think -no sound can be more terrible than the bellowing of a lot of cattle -that are crushed in a railroad smash-up--we went to work to see if -George was alive, and to get him out, dead or alive. We found him under -the tender, but one side of the tank lay across his body, so that he -could not move. We got rails and lifted and pried, until we raised the -tender and got him out. We took one of the doors from the wrecked cars, -laid it beside the track, and made a bed on it with our coats and the -cushions from the caboose; for poor George said he wanted to pass the -few moments left him of earth beneath the open sky, and with the cool -breeze to fan his cheek. Of course we dispatched a man to the nearest -station for aid, and to telegraph from there for an engine; but it was -late at night, everybody was asleep, and it was more than three hours -before any one arrived, and all that time George lingered, occasionally -whispering a word to me as I bent over him and moistened his lips. - -He told me while lying there the reason why he did not stop sooner. -Something had got loose on the inside throttle gearing, and he could -not shut off steam, nor, owing to some unaccountable complicity of -evil, could he reverse his engine. So on he had to come, pell-mell, and -both of them were killed; for the fireman had jumped on some rocks, and -must have died instantly, as he was most horribly mangled. - -The night wind moaned through the wreck, the dripping water yet hissed -upon the still hot iron of the engine, the waves of the river gurgled -and rippled among the rocks of the shore, and an occasional bellow -of agony was heard from amidst the cattle cars, where all the rest -of the hands were at work releasing the poor creatures; but I sat -there, in sad and solemn silence, waiting for him to die that had been -as a brother to me. At last, just as we heard the whistle of the -approaching engine, and just as the rising sun had begun to gild and -bespangle the purpling east, George opened his eyes, gave my hand a -faint grasp, and was no more. I stood alone with the dead man I had -loved so in life, but from whom death had now separated me. - - - - -AN UNROMANTIC HERO. - - -Those who have traveled much on the Little Miami Railroad, must have -noticed a little old fellow, with grizzled locks and an unpoetical -stoop of the shoulders, who whisks about his engine with all the -activity of a cat, and whom the railroad men all call "Uncle Jimmy." -That is old Jimmy Wiggins, an engineer of long standing and well known. -I believe Uncle Jimmy learned the machinists' trade with Eastwick & -Harrison, in Philadelphia; at all events he has been railroading for a -long time, and has been always noted for his carefulness and vigilance. -Let me attempt to describe him. He is about five feet four inches in -height, stoop-shouldered and short-legged. His hair is iron-gray, and -his face would be called any thing but beautiful. He has, though, a -clear blue eye that looks straight and firmly into yours with an -honest and never-flinching expression, that at once convinces you that -he is a "game" man. Not very careful about his dress is old Jimmy; -grease spots abound on all his clothing, and his hands are usually -begrimed with the marks of his trade. In short, Uncle Jimmy is any -thing but a romantic-looking fellow, and a novelist would hesitate -long before taking him as the hero of a romance; but the old man is -a hero, and under that rough, yet placid exterior, there beats a -heart that never cools, and a will that never flinches. We go back -into the history of the past ages to find our heroes, and them we -almost worship, but I question whether the whole history of the world -furnishes a better example of self-sacrificing heroism, than this same -rough and unromantic looking Jimmy Wiggins. It is not the casket that -gives value to the jewel; it is the jewel gives value to all. So with -Uncle Jimmy; rough he looks, but the heart he has makes him an honor to -the race, and deserving of our praise. I'll tell you now why I think so. - -Uncle Jimmy was running a train that laid by on the switch at Spring -Valley for the Up Express to pass. He got there on time, and the -express being a little behind time, the old man took advantage of the -time to oil around. The whistle of the up train was heard, but he -paid no heed thereto, for it was to pass without stopping. The fellow -who attended to the switch stood there at his post. Uncle Jimmy was -coolly at work, when a shriek from the conductor called his attention, -and looking up, he saw what would frighten and unnerve almost any -one. The stupid fool at the switch had thrown it wide open, and the -express was already on the branch, coming too at the rate of thirty -miles an hour--thirty feet in the beat of your pulse--and his train -loaded with passengers stood there stock-still. That was a time to try -the stuff a man was made of; ordinary men would have shrunk from the -task, and run from the scene. Your lily-handed, romantic gentry would -have failed then, but homely old Jimmy Wiggins rose superior to the -position, and, unromantic though he looks, proved a hero. No flinch in -him. What though two hundred tons of matter was being hurled at him, -fifty feet in the second?--what though the chances for death for him -were a thousand to one for safety? No tremor in that brave old heart, -no nerveless action in that strong arm. He leaped on to the engine, -and with his charge met the shock; but his own engine was reversed, -and under motion backwards when the other train struck it. It all -took but an instant of time, but in that moment old Jimmy Wiggins -concentrated more of true courage than many a man gets into in a -lifetime of seventy years. The collision was frightful; iron and wood -were twisted and jammed together as if they were rotten straw. Charley -Hunt, the engineer of the other train, was instantly killed; passengers -were wounded; terror, fright and pain held sway. Death was there, and -all stood back appalled at what had occurred; yet all shuddered more -to think of what would have been the result had Old Jimmy's engine -stood still, and all felt a trembling anxiety for his fate, for surely, -thought they, "in that wreck his life must have been the sacrifice to -his bravery;" but out of the mass, as cool, as calm as when running on -a straight track, crawled Uncle Jimmy, unhurt. He still runs on the -same road, and long may his days be, and happy. - - - - -THE DUTIES OF AN ENGINEER. - - -Those unacquainted with the duties of an engineer, are apt to think -that they are extremely light, and require him simply to sit upon his -seat and, shutting off or letting on the steam, regulate the speed of -his engine. Although this is a part of the duty, still it is but a -small portion, and for the benefit of those of my readers who are not -posted on the matter, I will briefly state a few of the things he has -to think of. - -Say we take the engine lying in the shop cold, and an order comes for -him to go out on the road. There is no water in the boiler; he must -see that it is filled up to the proper level, and that the fire is -started. He must know beforehand that no piece of the machinery is -broken or loosened, so as to endanger the engine. To know this, he -must make a personal inspection of every part of the engine--trucks, -wheels, drivers, cranks, rods, valves, gearing, coupling, flues, -scales, journals, driving-boxes, throttle gear, oil cups; in short, -every thing about the engine must be seen to by him personally. He must -know that every journal, every joint on the whole machine is in proper -order to receive the oil necessary to lubricate it, for they will each -and all receive a pretty severe strain in his coming ride, and, unless -well oiled, will be pretty apt to get warm. He must know whether the -flues are tight, or whether there are any leaks in the boiler to cause -him trouble, or render it necessary for him to carry a light pressure -of steam. He must see that there is water in the tank, and wood upon -the tender; that he has upon the engine the tools usually necessary -in case of a breakdown, such as hammers, chisels, wrenches, tongs, -bolts, nuts, coupling-pins, plugs for the flues in case one should -burst, chains, extra links, jack-screws, crow, and pinch-bars, an axe -or hatchet; waste or rags, oil, tallow for the cylinders, and material -for packing any joint that may give out. All this he must see to and -know before he starts. And then, when steam is up, he can go. Now he -must closely watch his time-card, and run so as to make the various -stations on time. He must know that his watch is correct and in good -order. He must see closely to his pumps that they work right, and that -the water keeps at the proper level in the boiler. He must watch the -scales that the pressure of the steam does not get too great, also the -working of his engine. To the exhausts of the steam his ear must be as -sensitive as a musical composer would be to a discord, for by it he -can tell much of the condition of his engine, the set and play of the -valves, and the condition of the many joints in the working machinery. -At the same time he must keep the strictest watch of the track ahead of -him, ready-nerved for any emergency that can possibly arise; it may be -a broken rail, cattle on the track, some stubborn, hasty fool striving -to cross the track ahead of him, a broken bridge, washed out culvert, -a train broken down; or it may be some stranger frantically swinging -his hands, and, in every manner possible, endeavoring to attract his -attention. Something may happen to his train or his engine, and he -must keep the strictest watch of both; his hands must be ready to blow -the whistle, shut off steam or reverse his engine, on the instant -intimation of danger, for his engine gets over the ground at a rapid -rate, and nothing but a cool nerve and stout arm can stop it, perhaps -not these. And if any thing does happen rendering it necessary for him -to stop, he cannot say to anybody, "Here, do this;" he must go at it -himself; and oftentimes, though it be but a trivial thing, it will tax -his ingenuity to the utmost to repair it. Thus he goes on every day, -be it clear or cloudy, whether summer breeze fill the air with balm, -or the chill winds of winter make the road-bed solid as the rock, and -the iron of the rails and wheels as brittle as glass; whether the rain, -pelting down, makes of every tiny brook a torrent or the drifted snow -blockades the track, and his engine has to plunge into the chilly mass; -through it all his eye must never cease its vigil, nor his arm lose -its cunning. In cold weather he must watch the pumps that they do not -freeze while standing at the stations, or the wheels get fractured -by the frost; and, in cold or warm weather, he must keep watch of -every place where there is the slightest friction, and keep it well -oiled. At every station where time is allowed, he must give the whole -engine a close inspection, lest some little part be out of order, and -endangering some larger and more important piece of the machinery. At -last, after this his journey for the day is ended, his work is by no -means done. He must again inspect his engine, and if there is any -thing out of order, so much that he cannot without assistance repair -it, he must apply at head-quarters for the necessary aid. But there are -a hundred little matters that he can attend to himself; these he must -see to and do. The friction and enormous strain necessarily wears the -brasses of the journals, and creates what he calls "lost motion," that -is, the journal moves in its box loosely without causing the required -motion in the part of the machinery with which it is connected; this he -must remedy by various expedients. The spring-packing of the piston may -have worn loose, and require to be set out; some one of the numerous -steam joints may be leaking, and these he must repack. Some of the -flues may also be leaking; if so, he must tighten them; or there may -be a crack in the boiler that leaks which can be remedied by caulking; -this he must do. The grate-bars may be broken or disarranged; he must -enter the fire-box and arrange them. The packing in the pumps may have -worn so as to render their operation imperfect, or the valves may be -out of order, or the strainer between the tank and the pump may be -clogged; if either or all be the case, he must take down the pump and -rectify the matter. The smokestack also may be clogged with cinders, or -the netting over it may be choked so as to impede the draught; if so, -he must remedy it, or see that it is done. Some of the orifices through -which oil is let on to the machinery may be clogged or too open; these -he must see to. One or more of the journal-boxes of the wheels may need -repacking, and he must do it. An eccentric may have slipped a little, -or a valve-rod been stripped, or a wheel be defective, or a tire on -the driving-wheel may be loose, and have to be bolted on or reset. A -gauge-cock may be clogged, a leaf of a spring broke, or the boiler may -be very dirty and want washing out. Any of these things or a hundred -others may have happened, and require his attention, which must on all -occasions be given to it; for each part, however simple, goes to make -up a whole, that, if out of repair, will render imminent a fearful loss -of life and limb. - -Thus the engineer rides every day, having the same care, and facing -the same dangers, with the same responsibility resting on him. Who -then shall say that, though he be grimy and greasy, rough and uncouth, -given to tobacco-chewing, and sometimes to hard swearing, he is of no -consequence to the world? Who shall blame him too severely if sometimes -he makes an error? - - - - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber's note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRIPS IN THE LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE -ENGINEER*** - - -******* This file should be named 64815-8.txt or 64815-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/4/8/1/64815 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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 <a -href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Trips in the Life of a Locomotive Engineer</p> -<p>Author: Henry Dawson</p> -<p>Release Date: March 14, 2021 [eBook #64815]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRIPS IN THE LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4 class="pgx" title="">E-text prepared by Martin Pettit<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (https://www.pgdp.net)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (https://archive.org)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/tripsinlifeofloc00daws - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>TRIPS</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above">IN THE</p> - -<p class="bold2 space-above">LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER.</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decorative line" /></div> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK:<br />J. BRADBURN (<span class="smcap">Successor to M. Doolady</span>), -<br />49 WALKER STREET.<br />FOLLETT, FOSTER & CO.<br />1863.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860.<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> FOLLETT, FOSTER & CO.,<br /> -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern<br />District of Ohio</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<h2>DEDICATION.</h2> - -<p class="center">——</p> - -<p class="center">TO THE<br />RAILROAD MEN OF THE UNITED STATES,<br /> -A CLASS<br />WITH WHOM MY INTERESTS WERE LONG IDENTIFIED, AND WHO I EVER<br /> -FOUND GENEROUS AND BRAVE, I DEDICATE THIS<br />UNPRETENDING VOLUME.</p> - -<p class="center">THE AUTHOR.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Bravery and heroism have in all times been extolled, and the praises -of the self-sacrificing men and women who have risked their own in the -saving of others' lives, been faithfully chronicled.</p> - -<p>Railroad men, too long looked upon as the rougher kind of humanity, -have been the subjects of severe condemnation and reproach upon the -occurrence of every disaster, while their skill, bravery and presence -of mind have scarcely ever found a chronicler. The writer ventures to -assert, that if the record of their noble deeds were all gathered, and -presented in their true light, it would be found that these rough, and -weather-worn men were entitled to as high a place, and a fame as lofty, -as has been allotted to any other class who cope with disaster.</p> - -<p>It has been the aim of the writer, who has shared their dangerous lot, -to present a few truthful sketches, trusting that his labor may tend -to a better knowledge of the dangers that are passed, by those who -drive, and ride behind the <span class="smcap">Iron Horse</span>. If he shall succeed in -this, and make the time of his reader not appear misspent, he will be -satisfied. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">Page</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Running in a Fog,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Close Shave,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Collision,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Collision Extraordinary,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Burning of the Henry Clay,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">The Conductor,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Bravery of an Engineer,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">The Fireman,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">The Brakeman,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Dream in the "Caboose,"</td> - <td><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">An Unmitigated Villain,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Proposed Race between Steam and Lightning, </td> - <td><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">An Abrupt Call,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">The Good Luck of being Obstinate,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Human Lives <i>v.</i> The Dollar,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Forty-two Miles Per Hour,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Used up at Last,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Victim of Low Wages,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Coroners' Juries <i>v.</i> Railroad Men,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Adventures of an Irish Railroad Man,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Bad Bridge,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">A Warning,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Singular Accidents,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Ludicrous Incidents,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">Explosions,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">How a Friend was Killed,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">An Unromantic Hero,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">The Duties of an Engineer,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">RUNNING IN A FOG. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<h2>RUNNING IN A FOG.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>In the year 185- I was running an engine on the —— road. My engine -was named the Racer, and a "racer" she was, too; her driving-wheels -were seven feet in diameter, and she could turn them about as fast as -was necessary, I can assure you. My regular train was the "Morning -Express," leaving the upper terminus of the road at half past four, -running sixty-nine miles in an hour and forty-five minutes, which, as I -had to make three stops, might with justice be considered pretty fast -traveling.</p> - -<p>I liked this run amazingly—for, mounted on my "iron steed," as I -sped in the dawn of day along the banks of the river which ran beside -the road, I saw all nature wake; the sun would begin to deck the -eastern clouds with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>roseate hues—rising higher, it would tip the -mountain-tops with its glory—higher still, it would shed its radiance -over every hill-side and in every valley. It would illumine the broad -bosom of the river, before flowing so dark and drear, now sparkling -and glittering with radiant beauty, seeming to run rejoicing in its -course to the sea. The little vessels that had lain at anchor all -night, swinging idly with the tide, would, as day came on, shake out -their broad white sails, and, gracefully careening to the morning -breeze, sweep away over the water, looking so ethereal that I no -longer wondered at the innocent Mexicans supposing the ships of Cortez -were gigantic birds from the spirit-land. Some mornings were not so -pleasant, for frequently a dense fog would rise and envelop in its -damp, unwholesome folds the river, the road, and all things near them. -This was rendered doubly unpleasant from the fact that there were -on the line numerous drawbridges which were liable to be opened at -all hours, but more especially about daybreak. To be sure there were -men stationed at every bridge, and in fact every half-mile along the -road, whose special duty it was to warn approaching trains of danger -from open drawbridges, obstructions on the track, etc., but the class -of men employed in such duty was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> <i>noted</i> for sobriety, and the -wages paid were not sufficient to secure a peculiarly intelligent or -careful class. So the confidence I was compelled to place in them was -necessarily burdened with much distrust.</p> - -<p>These men were provided with white and red signal lanterns, detonating -torpedoes and colored flags, and the rules of the road required them to -place a torpedo on the rail and show a red signal both on the bridge -and at a "fog station," distant half a mile from the bridge, before -they opened the draw. At all times when the draw was closed they were -to show a white light or flag at this "fog station." This explanation -will, I trust, be sufficient to enable every reader to understand the -position in which I found myself in the "gray" of one September morning.</p> - -<p>I left the starting-point of my route that morning ten minutes behind -time. The fog was more dense than I ever remembered having seen it. -It enveloped every thing. I could not see the end of my train, which -consisted of five cars filled with passengers. The "head-light" which -I carried on my engine illumined the fleecy cloud only a few feet, so -that I was running into the most utter darkness. I did not like the -look of things at all, but my "orders" were positive to use all due -exertions to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> make time. So, blindly putting my trust in Providence and -the miserable twenty-dollars-a-month-men who were its agents along the -road, I darted headlong into and through the thick and, to all mortal -vision, impenetrable fog. The Racer behaved nobly that morning; she -seemed gifted with the "wings of the wind," and rushed thunderingly -on, making such "time" as astonished even me, almost "native and to -the manor born." Every thing passed off right. I had "made up" seven -minutes of my time, and was within ten miles of my journey's end. -The tremendous speed at which I had been running had exhilarated and -excited me. That pitching into darkness, blindly trusting to men that -I had at best but weak faith in, had given my nerves an unnatural -tension, so I resolved to run the remaining ten miles at whatever -rate of speed the Racer was capable of making. I gave her steam, and -away we flew. The fog was so thick that I could not tell by passing -objects how fast we ran, but the dull, heavy and oppressive roar, as -we shot through rock cuttings and tunnels, the rocking and straining -of my engine, and the almost inconceivable velocity at which the -driving-wheels revolved, told me that my speed was something absolutely -awful. I did not care, though.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> I was used to that, and the rules bore -me out; besides, I wanted to win for my engine the title of the fastest -engine on the road, which I knew she deserved. So I cried, "<i>On! on!!</i>"</p> - -<p>I had to cross one drawbridge which, owing to the intervention of a -high hill, could not be seen from the time we passed the "fog station" -until we were within three or four rods of it. I watched closely -for the "fog station" signal. It was white. "All right! go ahead -my beauty!" shouted I, giving at the same time another jerk at the -"throttle," and we shot into the "cut." In less time than it takes -me to write it, we were through, and there on the top of the "draw," -dimly seen through a rift in the fog, glimmered with to me actual -ghastliness the danger signal—a red light. It seemed to glare at me -with almost fiendish malignancy. Stopping was out of the question, -even had I been running at a quarter of my actual speed. As I was -running, I had not even time to grasp the whistle-cord before we would -be in. So giving one longing, lingering thought to the bright world, -whose duration to me could not be reckoned in seconds even, I shut my -eyes and waited my death, which seemed as absolute and inevitable as -inglorious. It was but an instant of time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> but an age of thought and -dread—and then—I was over the bridge. A drunken bridge-tender had, -with accursed stupidity, hoisted the wrong light, and my adventure was -but a "<i>scare</i>"—but half a dozen such were as bad as death.</p> - -<p>It was three weeks before I ran again, and I never after "made up time" -in a fog.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A CLOSE SHAVE. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A CLOSE SHAVE.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Several times during my life I have felt the emotions so often told -of, so seldom felt by any man, when, with death apparently absolute -and inevitable, immediate and inglorious, staring me full in the -face, I forgot all fears for myself—dreamed not of shuddering at the -thought that I soon must die—that the gates of death were swung wide -open before me, and that, with a speed and force against which all -human resistance was useless, I was rushing into them. I knew that -I was fated with the rest; but I thought only of those behind me in -my charge, under my supervision, then chatting gaily, watching the -swift-receding scenery, thinking perhaps how quickly they would be at -home with their dear ones, and not dreaming of the hideous panorama -of death so soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> to unroll, the tinkle of the bell for the starting -of which I seemed to hear; the first sad scene, the opening crash of -which was sickening my soul with terror and blinding me with despair. -For I knew that those voices, now so gay, now so happy, would soon be -shrieking in agony, or muttering the dying groan. I knew that those -faces, now so smiling, would soon be distorted with pain, or crushed -out of all semblance to humanity; and I was powerless to avert the -catastrophe. All human force was powerless. Nothing but the hand of -God, stretched forth in its Omnipotence, could avert it; and there was -scarce time for a prayer for that; for such scenes last but a moment, -though their memory endures for all time.</p> - -<p>I remember well one instance of this kind. I was running on the R. & -W. road, in the East. A great Sabbath-school excursion and picnic was -gotten up, and I was detailed to run the train. The children of all -the towns on the road were assembled; and, when we got to the grove -in which the picnic was to be held, we had eighteen cars full as they -could hold of the little ones, all dressed in their holiday attire, and -brimful of mirth and gayety. I drew the train in upon the switch, out -of the way of passing trains, let the engine cool down, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> then went -into the woods to participate in the innocent pleasures of the day. -The children very soon found out that I was the engineer; and, as I -liked children, and tried to amuse them, it was not long before I had -a perfect troop at my heels, all laughing and chatting gaily to "Mr. -Engineer," as they called me. They asked me a thousand questions about -the engine; and one and all tried to extort a promise from me to let -them ride with me, several declaring to me in the strictest confidence, -their intention of becoming engineers, and their desire, above all -things, that I should teach them how.</p> - -<p>So the day passed most happily. The children swung in the swings, -romped on the grass, picked the flowers, and wandered at their own -sweet will all over the woods. A splendid collation was prepared for -them, at which I, too, sat down, and liked to have made myself sick -eating philopenas with the Billys, Freddys, Mollies, and Matties, whose -acquaintance I had made that day, and whose pretty faces and sweet -voices would urge me, in a style that I could not find heart to resist, -to eat a philopena with them, or "just to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> taste their cake and see if -it wasn't the goodest I ever saw."</p> - -<p>But the day passed, as happy or unhappy days will, and time to start -came round. We had some trouble getting so many little folks together, -and it was only by dint of a great deal of whistling that all my load -was collected. I was much amused to see some of the little fellows' -contempt at others more timid than they, who shut their ears to the -sound of the whistle, and ran to hide in the cars. Innumerable were -the entreaties that I had from some of them, to let them ride on the -engine, "only this once;" but I was inexorable. The superintendent of -the road, who conducted the train, came to me as I was about ready to -start, and told me that, as we had lost so much time collecting our -load, I had better not stop at the first station, from whence we had -taken but a few children, but push on to the next, where we would meet -the down train, and send them back from there. Another reason for this -was, that I had a heavy train, and it was a very bad stop to make, -lying right in a valley, at the foot of two very heavy grades. So, off -I started, the children in the cars <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>swinging a dozen handkerchiefs -from every window, all happy.</p> - -<p>As I had good running-ground, and unless I hurried, was going to be -quite late in reaching my journey's end, I pulled out, and let the -engine do her best. So we were running very fast—about forty-eight -miles an hour. Before arriving at the station at which I was not to -stop, I passed through a piece of heavy wood, in the midst of which -was a long curve. On emerging from the woods, we left the curve, and -struck a straight track, which extended toward the station some forty -rods from the woods. I sounded my whistle a half mile from the station, -giving a long blow to signify my intention of passing without a stop, -and never shut off; for I had a grade of fifty feet to the mile to -surmount just as I passed the station, and I wanted pretty good headway -to do it with eighteen cars. I turned the curve, shot out into sight of -the station, and there saw what almost curdled the blood in my veins, -and made me tremble with terror: a dozen cars, heavily laden with -stone, stood on the side track, and the switch at this end was wide -open! I knew it was useless, but I whistled for brakes, and reversed -my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> engine. I might as well have thrown out a fish-hook and line, and -tried to stop by catching the hook in a tree; for, running as I was, -and so near the switch, a feather laid on the wheels would have stopped -us just as soon as the brakes. I gave up all. I did not think for a -moment of the painful death so close to me; I thought only of the load -behind me. I thought of their sweet faces, which had so lately smiled -on me, now to be distorted with agony, or pale in death. I thought -of their lithe limbs, so full of animation, now to be crushed, and -mangled, and dabbled in gore. I thought of the anxious parents watching -to welcome their smiling, romping darlings home again; doomed, though, -to caress only a mangled, crushed, and stiffened corpse, or else to -see the fair promises of their young lives blasted forever, and to -watch their darlings through a crippled life. 'Twas too horrible. I -stood with stiffened limbs and eyeballs almost bursting from their -sockets, frozen with terror, and stared stonily and fixedly, as we -rushed on—when a man, gifted, it seemed, with superhuman strength and -activity, darted across the track right in front of the train, turned -the switch, and we were saved. I could take those little ones home in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -safety! I never run an engine over that road afterwards. The whole -thing transpired in a moment; but a dozen such moments were worse than -death, and would furnish terror and agony enough for a lifetime. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A COLLISION. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A COLLISION.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Of the various kinds of accidents that may befall a railroad-man, a -collision is the most dreaded, because, generally, the most fatal. The -man who is in the wreck, of matter that follows the terrible shock of -two trains colliding, stands indeed but a poor chance to escape with -either life or limb. No combination of metal or wood can be formed -strong enough to resist the tremendous momentum of a locomotive at -full or even half speed, suddenly brought to a stand-still; and when -two trains meet the result is even more frightful, for the momentum is -not only doubled, but the scene of the wreck is lengthened, and the -amount of matter is twice as great. The two locomotives are jammed -and twisted together, and the wrecked cars stretch behind, bringing -up the rear of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> procession of destruction. I, myself, never had -a collision with another engine, but I did collide with the hind end -of another train of forty cars, which was standing still, at the foot -of a heavy grade, and into which I ran at about thirty-five miles an -hour, and from the ninth car of which I made my way, for the engine -had run right into it. The roof of the car was extended over the -engine, and the sides had bulged out, and were on either side of me. -The cars were all loaded with flour. The shock of the collision broke -the barrels open and diffused the "Double Extra Genesee" all over; it -mingled with the smoke and steam and floated all round, so that when, -during the several minutes I was confined there, I essayed to breathe, -I inhaled a compound of flour, dust, hot steam and choking smoke. Take -it altogether, that car from which, as soon as I could, I crawled, was -a little the hottest, most dusty, and cramped position into which I was -ever thrown. To add to the terror-producing elements of the scene, my -fireman lay at my feet, caught between the tender and the head of the -boiler, and so crushed that he never breathed from the instant he was -caught. He was crushed the whole length of his body, from the left hip -to the right shoulder, and compressed to the thinness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> my hand. In -fact, an indentation was made in the boiler where the tender struck -it, and his body was between boiler and tender! The way this accident -happened was simple, and easily explained. The freight train which I -was to pass with the express at the next station, broke down while on -this grade. The breakage was trifling and could easily be repaired, so -the conductor dispatched a man (a green hand, that they paid twenty-two -dollars a month) to the rear with orders, as the night was very dark -and rainy, to go clear to the top of the grade, a full mile off, and -swing his red light from the time he saw my head light, which he could -see for a mile, as the track was straight, until I saw it and stopped, -and then he was to tell me what was the matter, and I, of course, would -proceed with caution until I passed the train. The conductor was thus -particular, for he knew he was a green hand, and sent him back only -because he could be spared, in case the train proceeded, better than -the other man; and he was allowed only two brakemen. Well, with these -apparently clear instructions, the brakeman went back to the top of the -grade. I was then in sight; he gave, according to his own statement, -one swing of the lamp, and it went out. He had no matches, and what to -do he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> didn't know. He had in his pocket, to be sure, a half a dozen -torpedoes, given to him expressly for such emergencies, but if he ever -knew their use, he was too big a fool to use the knowledge when it was -needed. He might, to be sure, have stood right in the track, and, by -swinging his arms, have attracted my attention, for on dark nights and -on roads where they hire cheap men, I generally kept a close lookout; -and if I saw a man swinging his arms, and, apparently trying to see -how like a madman he could act, I stopped quick, for there was no -telling what was the matter. But this fellow was too big a fool for -that even. He turned from me and made towards his own train, bellowing -lustily, no doubt, for them to go ahead, but they were at the engine, -and its hissing steam made too much noise for them to hear, even had he -been within ten rods of them. But a mile away, that chance was pretty -slim, and yet on it hung a good many lives. I came on, running about -forty-five miles an hour, for the next station was a wood and water -station, and I wanted time there.</p> - -<p>I discovered the red light, held at the rear of the train, when within -about fifteen rods of it. I had barely time to shut off, and was in the -very act of reversing when the collision took place. The tender jumped -up on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>foot-board, somehow I was raised at the same time, so that -it did not catch my feet, but the end of the tank caught my hand on the -"reverse lever," which I had not time to let go, and there I was fast. -The first five cars were thrown clear to one side of the track, by the -impetus of my train; the other four were crushed like egg-shells, and -in the ninth, the engine brought up. I was fast; it all occurred in a -second, and the scene was so confusing and rapid that I hardly knew -when my hand <i>was</i> caught; I certainly should not have known where -but for the locality of the piece of it afterwards found. My pain was -awful, for not only was my hand caught, but the wood from the tender, -as I crouched behind the dome, gave my body a most horrible pummeling, -and the blinding smoke and scalding steam added to the misery of my -position. I really began to fear that I should have to stay there and -undergo the slow, protracted torture of being scalded to death; but -with a final effort I jerked my hand loose, and groped my way out. My -clothes were saturated with moisture. The place had been so hot that my -hands peeled, and my face was blistered. I did not fully recover for -months. But at last I did and went at it again, to run into the doors -of death, which are wide open all along every mile of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> railroad, -and into which, even if nature does not let you go, some fool of a -man, who is willing to risk his own worthless neck in such scenes for -twenty-five dollars a month, will contrive, ten chances against one, by -his stupid blundering to push you.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">COLLISION EXTRAORDINARY. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<h2>COLLISION EXTRAORDINARY.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>One morning, in the year 185-, I was running the Morning Express, or -the Shanghæ run, as it was called, on the H. road in New York state. -The morning was foggy, damp and uncomfortable, and by its influence -I was depressed so that I had the "blues" very badly; I felt weary -and tired of the life I was leading, dull and monotonous always, save -when varied by horror. I got to thinking of the poor estimate in which -the class to which I belonged was held by the people generally, who, -seated in the easy-cushioned seats of the train, read of battles far -away—of deeds of heroism, performed amid the smoke and din of bloody -wars,—and their hearts swell with pride,—they glow with gladness to -think that their own species are capable of such daring acts, and all -the while these very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> readers are skirting the edges of precipices, to -look down which would appall the stoutest heart and make the strongest -nerved man thrill with terror;—they are crossing deep, narrow gorges -on gossamer-like bridges;—they are passing switches at terrific speed, -where there is but an inch of space between smooth-rolling prosperity -and quick destruction;—they are darting through dark, gloomy tunnels, -which would be turned into graves for them, were a single stone to -be detached from the roof in front of the thundering train;—they -are dragged by a fiery-lunged, smoke-belching monster, in whose form -are imprisoned death-dealing forces the most terrific. And mounted -upon this fire-fiend sits the engineer, controlling its every motion, -holding in his hand the thread of every life on the train, which a -single act—a false move—a deceived eye, an instant's relaxation of -thought or care on his part, would cut, to be united nevermore; and the -train thunders on, crossing bridges, gullies and roads, passing through -tunnels and cuts, and over embankments. The engineer, firm to his post, -still regulates the breath of his steam-demon and keeps his eye upon -the track ahead, with a thousand things upon his mind, the neglect or -a wrong thought of either of which would run the risk of a thousand -lives;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>—and these readers in the cars are still absorbed with the -daring deeds of the Zouaves under the warm sun of Italy, but pay not a -thought to the Zouave upon the engine, who every day rides down into -the "valley of death" and charges a bridge of Magenta.</p> - -<p>But to return to this dismal, foggy morning that I began to tell you -of. It was with some such thoughts as these that I sat that morning -upon my engine, and plunged into the fog-banks that hung over the river -and the river-side. I sat so</p> - -<p class="center">"Absorbed in guessing, but no syllable expressing"</p> - -<p>of whether it must always be so with me; whether I should always be -chilled with this indifference and want of appreciation in my waking -hours, and in my sleep have this horrible responsibility and care to -sit, ghoul-like, upon my breast and almost stifle the beating of my -heart;—when with a crash and slam my meditations were interrupted, and -the whole side of the "cab," with the "smokestack," "whistle-stand" and -"sand-box" were stripped from the engine. The splinters flew around my -head, the escaping steam made most an infernal din, and the "fire-box" -emitted most as infernal a smoke, and I was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>entirely ignorant of what -was up or the extent of the damage done. As soon as I could stop, I -of course, after seeing that every thing was right with the engine, -went back to see what was the cause of this sudden invasion upon the -dreary harmony of my thoughts, and the completeness of my running -arrangements, when lo! and behold it was a North River <i>schooner</i> with -which I had collided. It had, during the fog, been blown upon the -shore, and into its "bowsprit," which projected over the track, I had -run full tilt.</p> - -<p>I think that I am justified in calling a collision between a schooner -on the river and a locomotive on the rail, a <i>collision extraordinary</i>. -Readers, do not you?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">BURNING OF THE HENRY CLAY. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BURNING OF THE HENRY CLAY.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>There is one reminiscence of my life as a "railroad man" that dwells -in my memory with most terrible vividness, one that I often think of -in daytime with shuddering horror; and in the night, in dreams of -appalling terror, each scene is renewed in all the ghastliness of -the reality, so that the nights when I dream of it become epochs of -miserable, terrible helplessness.</p> - -<p>It was on a clear, bright day in August. The fields were covered -with the maturity of verdure, the trees wore their coronal of leaves -perfected, the birds sang gaily, and the river sparkled in the sun; and -I sat upon my engine, looking ahead mostly, but occasionally casting -my eyes at the vessels on the river, that spread their white sails to -the breeze and danced over the rippling waters,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> looking too graceful -to be of earth. Among the craft upon the river I noticed the steamboat -"Henry Clay;" another and a rival boat was some distance from it, and -from the appearance of things I inferred that they were racing. I -watched the two as closely as I could for sometime, and while looking -intently at the "Clay," I saw a dark column of thick black smoke -ascending from her, "amidships," just back of the smoke-pipe. At first -I paid little heed to it, but soon it turned to fire, and the leaping -flames, like serpents, entwined the whole of the middle portion of the -boat in their terrible embrace. She was at once headed for the shore, -and came rushing on, trailing the thick cloud of flame and smoke. She -struck the shore near where I had stopped my train, for, of course, -seeing such a thing about to happen, I stopped to enable the hands -and passengers to render what assistance they could. The burning boat -struck the shore by the side of a little wharf, right where the station -of "Riverdale" now stands, and those who were upon the forward part of -her decks escaped at once by leaping to the shore; but the majority -of the passengers, including all of the women and children, were on -the after-part of the boat, and owing to the centre of the boat being -entirely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>enwrapped by the hissing flames, they were utterly unable -to get to the shore. So they were cooped up on the extreme after-end -of the boat, with the roaring fire forming an impassable barrier to -prevent their reaching the land, and the swift-flowing river at their -feet, surging and bubbling past, dark, deep, and to most of them as -certain death as the flames in front. The fire crept on. It drove them -inch by inch to the water. The strong swimmers, crazed by the heat, -wrapped their stalwart arms about their dear ones, and leaped into -the water. Their mutual struggles impeded each other; they sank with -words of love and farewell bubbling from their lips, unheard amidst the -roar of the flames and hiss of the water, as the burning timbers fell -in and were extinguished. Women raised their hands to Heaven, uttered -one piercing, despairing scream, and with the flames enwrapping their -clothing, leaped into the stream, which sullenly closed over them. -Some crawled over the guards and hung suspended until the fierce heat -compelled them to loose their hold and drop into the waves below. -Mothers, clasping their children to their bosoms, knelt and prayed God -to let this cup pass from them. Many, leaping into the water, almost -gained the shore, but some piece of the burning wreck would fall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> upon -them and crush them down. Some we could see kneeling on the deck until -the surging flames and blinding smoke shrouded them and hid them from -our sight. One little boy was seen upon the hurricane roof, just as it -fell. Entwined in each other's embrace, two girls were seen to rush -right into the raging fire, either delirious with the heat or desirous -of quickly ending their dreadful sufferings, which they thought <i>must</i> -end in death. And we upon the shore stood almost entirely powerless to -aid. Death-shrieks and despairing cries for help, prayer and blasphemy, -all mingled, came to our ear above the roaring and crackling of the -flames, and in agony and the terror of helplessness we closed our ears -to shut out the horrid sounds. The intense heat of the fire rendered -it impossible for us to approach near the boat. The many despairing -creatures struggling in the water made it almost certain death for any -to swim out to help. No boats were near, except the boats of a sloop -which came along just as the fire was at its highest and were unable to -get near the wreck, because of the heat. The scene among the survivors -was most terrible. One little boy of about seven, was running around -seeking his parents and sisters. Poor fellow! his search was vain, -for the scorching flames had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> killed them, and the rapid river had -buried them. A mother was there, nursing a dead babe, which drowned -in her arms, as, with almost superhuman exertions, she struggled to -the shore. A young lady sat by the side of her father, lying stark and -stiff, killed by a falling beam, within twenty feet of the shore. A -noble Newfoundland dog stood, sole guardian of a little child of three -or four, that he had brought ashore himself, and to whom we could find -neither kith nor kin among the crowd. His dog, playmate of an hour -before, was now the saviour of his life and his only friend. I left the -scene with my train when convinced that a longer stay was useless, as -far as saving life went.</p> - -<p>I returned that afternoon, and the water had given up many of its dead. -Twenty-two bodies lay stretched upon the shore—but one in a coffin, -and she a bride of that morning, with the wedding-dress scorched and -blackened, and clinging with wet, clammy folds to her stiff and rigid -form. Her husband bent in still despair over her. A little child lay -there, unclaimed. His curly, flaxen hair that, two hours before, father -and sisters stroked so fondly, was matted around his forehead, and -begrimed with the sand, over which his little body had been washed to -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> river-bank. His little lips, that a mother pressed so lately, now -were black with the slime of the river-bed in which he went to sleep. -An old man of seventy was there, sleeping calmly after the battle of -life, which for him culminated with horror at its close. In short, of -all ages they were there, lying on the sand, and the scene I shall -never forget. Each incident, from the first flashing out of the flame -to the moment when I, with reverent hands, helped lay them in their -coffins and the tragedy closed, is photographed forever upon my mind.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE CONDUCTOR. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE CONDUCTOR.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>A recent case in the courts of this county, has set me to thinking -of some of the wrongs heaped upon railroad men so much, that I shall -devote this article exclusively to a review of the opprobrium bestowed -upon all men connected with railroads, by the people who every day -travel under their control, with their lives subject to the care and -watchfulness of these men, for whose abuse they leave no opportunity -to escape. Does a train run off the track, and thereby mischief be -worked, every possible circumstance that can be twisted and distorted -into a shape such as to throw the blame upon the men connected with the -road, <i>is</i> so twisted and distorted. The probability of any accident -happening without its being directly caused by the scarcely less than -criminal negligence of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> some of the railroad men, is always scouted -by the discerning public; most of whom scarcely know the difference -between a locomotive and a pumping engine. An accident caused by -the breaking of a portion of the machinery of a locomotive engine -on the Hudson River Railroad, which did no damage except to cause a -three hours' detention, was by some enterprising and intelligent (?) -penny-a-liner dignified into a proof of the general incompetency of -railroad men, in one of our prominent literary periodicals, and the -question was very sagely asked why the railroad company did not have -engines that would not break down, or engineers that would not allow -them so to do? The question might, with equal propriety, be asked, why -did not nature form trees, the timber of which would not rot? Or, why -did not nature make rivers that would not overflow?</p> - -<p>Let two suits be brought in almost any of our courts, each with -circumstances of the same aggravation, say for assault and battery, and -let the parties in one be ordinary citizens, and in the other, let one -party be a railroad man and the other a citizen, with whom, for some -cause, the railroad man has had a difficulty, and you will invariably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -see the railroad man's case decided against him, and in the other case -the defendant be acquitted, to go scot-free. Why is this? Simply, I -think, because every individual who has ever suffered from the hands of -any railroad employee, treasures up that indignity, and lays it to the -account of every other railroad man he meets, making the class suffer -in his estimation, because one of them treated him in a crusty manner.</p> - -<p>If a man's neighbor or friend offend him, he tries to forgive -it—earnestly endeavors to find palliating circumstances; but, in the -case of railroad men, all that would palliate the offense of rudeness -and want of courtesy, such as is sometimes shown, is studiously -ignored, or, at the mildest, forgotten.</p> - -<p>I knew a school teacher once, who said that the most barbarous -profession in the world was that of teaching, because it drove from a -man all humanity. He got into such a habit of ruling, that it became -impossible for him to understand how to obey any one himself.</p> - -<p>The same thing might be said of a railroad conductor; for, every day in -his life, he takes the exclusive control of a train full of passengers -of as different dispositions as they are of different countenances. -Now, he meets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> with a testy, quarrelsome old fellow, who is given -to fault-finding, and who blows him up at every meeting. Now, with -a querulous old maid, who is in continual fear lest the train run -off the track, the boiler burst, or the conductor palm off some bad -money on her. Now, with a gent of an inquisitive turn of mind, who is -continually asking the distance to the next station, and the time the -train stops there, or else pulling out an old turnip of a watch and -comparing his time with the conductor's. Then, a stupid, dunderheaded -man is before him, who does not know where he is going, nor how much -money he has got. Then, somebody has got carried by, and scolds the -conductor for it, or else angrily insists that the train be immediately -backed up for his especial accommodation. The next man, maybe, is an -Irishman, made gloriously happy and piggishly independent, by the -aid of poor whiskey, who will pay his fare how he pleases, and when -he pleases; who is determined to ride where he wants to, and who -will at once jump in for a fight, if any of these rights of his are -invaded; or, mayhap, he will not pay his fare at all, deeming that his -presence (scarcely more endurable than a hog's) is sufficient honor to -remunerate the company for his ride; or perhaps his "brother Tiddy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -or Pathrick, or Michael, or Dinnis works upon the thrack," and "bedad, -he'll jist ride onyway." All these characters are found in any train, -and with them the conductor has to deal every day. How do you know, -when he speaks harshly to you, but that he has just had a confab with -one of these gentry, who has sorely tried his patience, and riled his -temper? How do you think you would fill his place, were you subjected -to such annoyances all the time? Would you be able at all times to -maintain a perfectly correct and polite exterior—a Christian gravity -of demeanor—and never for an instant forget yourself, or lose your -temper, or allow your manner to show to any one the slightest acerbity? -You know you could not; and yet, for being only thus human, you are -loud in your denunciation of conductors and all railroad men, and, -perhaps honestly, but certainly with great injustice, believe them -to have no care for your wants, no interest in your comfort. Treat -railroad men with the same consideration that you evince towards other -business companions. Consider always that they are only human—have -not saintly nor angelic tempers, any of them, and that every day's -experience is one of trial and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>provocation. By so doing, you will -be only rendering them simple justice, and you will yourself receive -better treatment than if you attempt to make the railroad man your -menial, or the pack-horse for all your ill-feeling.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">BRAVERY OF AN ENGINEER. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BRAVERY OF AN ENGINEER.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>The presence of mind shown by railroad men is a great deal talked -about; but few, I think, know the trying circumstances under which it -must be exercised, because they have never thought of, and are not -familiar enough with the details of the business, and the common, -every-day incidents of the lives of railroad men. If any thing does -happen to a train of cars, or an engine, it comes so suddenly, and is -all over so quickly, that the impulse, and effort, to do something to -prevent it, must be instantaneous, or they are of no avail. The mind -must devise, and the hands spring to execute at once, for the man is -on a machine that moves like the wind-blast, and will snap bands and -braces of iron or steel as easily as the wild horse would break a -halter of thread. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - -<p>The engine, while under the control of its master, moves along -regularly and with the beauty of a dream; its wheels revolve, glancing -in the sun; its exhausted steam coughs as regularly as the strong man's -heart beats, and trails back over the train, wreathing itself into the -most fantastic convolutions; now sweeping away towards the sky in a -grand, white pillar, anon twining and twisting among the gnarled limbs -of the trees beside the track, and the train moves on so fast that the -scared bird in vain tries to get out of its way by flying ahead of -it. Still the engineer sits there cool and calm; but let him have a -care,—let not the exhilaration of his wild ride overcome his prudence, -for the elements he controls are, while under his rule, useful and -easily managed, but broken loose, they have the power of a thousand -giants, and do the work of a legion of devils in almost a single beat -of the pulse.</p> - -<p>A man can easily retain his presence of mind where the danger depends -entirely upon him; that is, where his maintaining one position, or -doing one thing resolutely, will avert the catastrophe; but under -circumstances such as frequently beset an engineer, where, to do his -utmost, he can only partially avert the calamity, then it is that the -natural bravery and acquired courage of a man is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> tried to the utmost -extent. I remember several instances of this kind, where engineers, in -full view of the awful danger which threatened them, knowing too well -the terrible chances of death that were against them and the passengers -under their charge, even if they did maintain their positions, and, by -using all their exertions, succeeded in slightly reducing the shock of -the collision, which could only be modified—not averted—still stuck -to their posts, did their utmost, and rode into the other train and -met their death, amid the appalling scenes of the chaotic ruin which -followed.</p> - -<p>George D—— was running the Night Express on the —— road. I was then -running the freight train, which laid over at a station for George to -pass. One night—it was dark and dismal—the rain had been pouring -down in torrents all night long; I arrived with my train, went in upon -the switch and waited for George, who passed on the main track without -stopping. Owing to the storm and the failure of western connections, -George was some thirty minutes behind, and of course came on, intending -to run though the station pretty fast—a perfectly safe proceeding, -apparently, for the switches could not be turned wrong without changing -the lights, and these <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>being "bull's-eye" lanterns elevated so that -they could be seen a great distance on the straight track which was -there, no change could be made without the watchful eye of the engineer -seeing it at once. So George came on, at about thirty-five miles an -hour, as near as I could judge, and I was watching him all the time. He -was within about three times the length of his train of the switch—was -blowing his whistle—when I saw, and <i>he</i> saw the switchman run madly -out of his "shanty," grab the switch and turn it so that it would lead -him directly into the hind end of my train. I jumped, instinctively, to -start my engine—I heard him whistle for brakes, and those that stood -near said that he reversed his engine—but my train was too heavy for -me to move quickly, and he was too near to do much good by reversing, -so I soon felt a heavy concussion, and knew that he had struck hard, -for, at the other end of forty-five cars, it knocked me down, and the -jar broke my engine loose from the train. He might have jumped from his -engine with comparative safety, after he saw the switch changed, for -the ground was sandy there and free from obstructions; and he could -easily have jumped clear of the track and escaped with slight bruises. -But no! Behind him, trusting to him, and resting in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> comparative -security, were hundreds to whom life was as dear as to him; his post -was at the head; to the great law of self-preservation, that most -people put first in their code of practice, his stern duty required him -to forswear allegiance, and to act on the principle, "others first, -myself afterwards." So, with a bravery of heart such as is seldom found -in other ranks of men, he stuck to his iron steed, transformed then -into the white steed of death, and spent the last energies of his life, -the strength of his last pulse, striving to mitigate the suffering -which would follow the collision. His death was instantaneous; he -had no time for regrets at leaving life and the friends he loved so -dearly. When we found him, one hand grasped the throttle, his engine -was reversed, and with the other hand he still held on to the handle -of the sand-box lever. The whole middle and lower portion of his body -was crushed, but his head and arms were untouched, and his face still -wore a resolute, self-sacrificing expression, such as must have lit -up the countenance of Arnold Winkleried, when crying, "<i>Make way for -liberty</i>," he threw himself upon a sheaf of Austrian spears and broke -the column of his enemies.</p> - -<p>I find in nearly every cemetery that I visit, monuments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> and -memorial-stones to some brave man who fell and died amid the smoke -and flame and hate of a battle-field; and orators and statesmen, -ministers and newspapers, exhaust the fountains of eloquence to extol -the "illustrious dead." But George D——, who spent his life in a -constant battle with the elements, who waged unequal war with time and -space, who at last chose rather to die himself than to bring death -or injuries to others, sleeps in the quiet of a country church-yard. -The wailing wind, sighing through the few trees there, sings his only -dirge; a plain stone, bought by the hard won money of his companions in -life, alone marks his resting-place. The stranger, passing by, would -scarcely notice it; but who shall dare to tell me that there resteth -not there a frame, from which a soul has flown, as noble as any that -sleeps under sculptured urn or slab, over which thousands have mused, -and which has been the text of hundreds of exhortations to patriotism -and self-forgetfulness?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE FIREMAN. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE FIREMAN.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>The fireman, the engineer's <i>left</i>-hand man, his trump card, without -whom it would be difficult for him to get over the road, is seen but -little, and thought but little of. He is usually dirty and greasy, -wearing a ragged pair of overalls, originally blue, but now embroidered -so with oil and dust, that they are become a smutty brown. Just before -the train leaves the station, you will see his face, down which streams -the perspiration, looking back, watching for the signal to start; for -this is one of his many duties. His head is usually ornamented (in -his opinion) with some outlandish cap or hat; though others regard it -as a fittingly outrageous cap-sheaf to his general dirty and outre -appearance. But little cares Mr. Fireman; he runs the fire-box of that -"machine." He feels pride in the whole engine; and when he sees any -one admiring its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> polished surface, gleaming so brightly in the sun, -flashing so swiftly by the farm-houses on the road (in each of which -Mr. Fireman has acquaintance of the opposite sex, to whom he must -needs swing his handkerchief), he feels a glow of honest satisfaction; -and the really splendid manner in which his efforts have caused it to -shine—which is evidently one great reason for the admiration bestowed -upon it—so fills him with self gratulation that, in his great modesty, -which he fears will be overcome if he stays there much longer watching -people as they admire his handiwork, and he be led to tell them all -about it, how he scrubbed and scoured to bring her to that pitch of -perfection—he turns away, and begins to pitch the wood about in the -most reckless manner imaginable; yet every stick goes just where he -wants it.</p> - -<p>His aspirations (and he has them, my lily-handed friend, as well as -you, and perhaps, though not so elevated, more honorable than yours) -are, that he may, by attending to his own duties, so attract the -attention of the ones in authority that he may be placed in positions -where he can learn the business, and, by and by, himself have charge of -an engine as its runner. It does not seem a very high ambition; but, -to attain it, he undergoes a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> probation seldom of less than three, -frequently of seven or eight years, at the hardest kind of work, -performed, too, where dangers are thick around him, and his chances to -avert them very slim. His duties are manifold and various; but long -years of attendance to them makes them very monotonous and irksome, and -he would soon weary of them, did not the hope of one day being himself -sole master of the "iron horse," actuate him to renewed diligence and -continued efforts to excel. He is on duty longer than any other man -connected with the train. He must be on hand before the engine comes -out of the shop, to start a fire and see that all is right about the -engine. Usually he brings it out upon the track; and then, when all is -ready, he begins the laborious work of throwing wood; which amounts to -the handling of from four to seven cords of wood per diem, while the -engine and tender are pitching and rolling so that a "green-horn" would -find it hard work to stand on his feet, let alone having, while so -standing, to keep that fiery furnace supplied with fuel. The worse the -day, the more the snow or rain blows, the harder his work. His hands -become calloused with the numerous wounds he receives from splinters -on the wood. He it is who has to go out on the runboard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> and oil the -valves, while the engine is running full speed. No matter how cold the -wind may blow, how rain, hail, sleet, or snow may beat down upon him, -covering every thing with ice, nor how dark the night, out there he -must go and crawl along the slippery side of the engine to do his work. -At stations he must take water, and when at last the train arrives at -its destination, and others are ready to go home, he must stay. If a -little too much wood is in the fire-box, he must take it out, and then -go to work cleaning and scouring the dust and rust from off the bright -work and from the boiler. Every bit of cleaning in the cab and above -the runboard, including the cylinders and steam-chest, must be done by -him; and any one who will look at the fancy-work on some of our modern -locomotives, can judge something of what he has to do after the day's -work on the road is done. Every thing is brass, or covered with brass; -and all must be kept polished like a mirror, or the fireman is hauled -over the coals.</p> - -<p>For performing these manifold duties, he receives the magnificent -sum of (usually) thirty dollars per month; and he knows no Sundays, -no holidays—on long roads, he scarcely knows sleep. He has not the -responsibility resting on him that there is upon the engineer; but -it is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>required of him, when not otherwise engaged with his duty of -firing, to assist the engineer in keeping a lookout ahead. His position -is one of the most dangerous on the train, as is proved by the frequent -occurrence of accidents, where only the fireman is killed; and his -only obituary, no matter how earnest he may have been, how faithful in -the performance of his duties, is an item in the telegraphic reports, -that <i>a fireman was killed</i> in such a railroad smash. He may have been -one of nature's noblemen. A fond mother and sweet sisters may have -been dependent on his scanty earnings for their support. No matter; -the great surging tide of humanity that daily throngs these avenues -of travel, has not time to inquire after, nor sympathy to waste upon, -a greasy wood-passer, whom they regard as simply a sort of piece in -the machinery of the road, not half so essential as a valve or bolt, -for if he be lost, his place can be at once supplied; but if a bolt -or other essential piece of the iron machinery give out, it will most -likely cause a vexatious delay. Once in a while a fireman performs some -heroic act that brings him into a momentary notoriety, and opens the -eyes of the few who may be cognizant of the case, to the fact that, on -a railroad, all men are in danger, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the most humble of them -may perform some self-sacrificing deed that will, at the expense of his -own, save many other lives.</p> - -<p>In a collision that occurred at a station on one of the roads in New -York state, the engineer, a relative of some of the managers of the -road, who had fired only half so long as the man then firing for him, -jumped from the engine, leaving it to run at full speed into the hind -end of a train standing on a branch track, of which the switch was -wrong; not doing a single thing to avert or mitigate the calamity; -fearing only for his own precious neck, which a hemp cravat would -ornament, to the edification of the world. The fireman sprang at once -to the post vacated by the engineer, reversed the engine, opened the -sand-box valve, and rode into the hind end of that train; losing, in so -doing, a leg and an arm. He has been most munificently rewarded for his -heroism, being now employed to attend a crossing and hold a flag for -passing trains, and receiving the princely compensation of twenty-five -dollars per month; while the engineer, who deserted his post and -left all to <i>kind Providence</i>, is running on the road at a salary of -seventy-five per month.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE BRAKEMAN. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE BRAKEMAN.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>A very humble class of railroad men, a class that gets poorer pay in -proportion to the work they do and the dangers they run than any other -upon a road, are the brakemen. Though perhaps less responsibility rests -upon them, they are placed in the most dangerous position on the train; -they are expected to be at their posts at all times, and to flinch from -no contingency which may arise. The managers of a railroad expect and -demand the brakemen to be as prompt in answering the signals of the -engineer as the throttle-valve is obedient to his touch.</p> - -<p>Reader, were you ever on a train of cars moving with the wings of the -wind, skimming over the ground as rapidly as a bird flies, darting by -tree and house, through cuttings and over embankments? and did you ever -feel a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> sudden jar that almost jerked you from your seat? At the same -time did you hear a sharp, sudden blast of the whistle, ringing out -as if the hand that pulled it was nerved by the presence of danger, -braced by a terrible anxiety to avoid destruction? It frightened you, -did it not? But did you notice the brakeman then? He rushed madly -out of the cars as if he thought the train was going to destruction -surely, and he wished, before the crash came, to be out of it. No, -that was not his object. He caught hold of the brakes and, with all -the force and energy he was capable of exerting, applied them to the -swift-revolving wheels, and when you felt the gradual reduction of -the speed under the pressure of the brakes, you began to feel easier. -But what thought the brakeman all the time? Did he think that, if the -danger ahead was any one of a thousand which might happen? if another -train was coming towards them, and they should strike it? if a disabled -engine was on the track, and a fool, to whom the task was intrusted, -had neglected to give your train the signal? if the driving rain had -raised some little stream, or a spark of fire had lodged in a bridge -and the bridge was gone? if some loosened rock had rolled down upon -the track; or if the track had slid;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> or if some wretch, wearing a -human form over a hellish soul, had lifted a rail, placed a tie on the -track, to hurl engine and car therefrom?—if any of these things were -ahead and the speed of your train be too great to stop, and go plunging -into it, did he realize that he was the first man to be caught; that -those two cars between which he stood, straining every nerve to do his -share to avert the catastrophe, would come together and crush him, -as he would crush a worm beneath his tread? If he did, he was doing -his duty in that dangerous place, risking his life at a pretty cheap -rate—a dollar a day—wasn't he? And still these men do this every day -for the same price and at the same risk, while the passengers regard -them as necessary evils, who <i>will</i> be continually banging the doors. -So they pass them by, never giving them a kind word, scarcely ever -thanking them for the many little services which they unhesitatingly -demand of them, and, if the passenger has ridden long, and the jolting -and jarring, the want of rest, or wearisome monotony of the long -ride has made him peevish, how sure he is to vent his spite on the -brakeman, because he thinks him the most humble, and therefore the most -unprotected man on the train. And the brakeman endures it all; for if -he answers back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> a word, if he asserts his manhood—which many seem to -think he has sold for his paltry thirty dollars a month—why, he is -reported at the office, a garbled version of the affair is given, and -the brakeman is discharged.</p> - -<p>But have a care, O! most chivalrous passenger, you who fly into such a -passion if your dignity is offended by a short answer. You may quarrel -with a man having a soul in him beside which yours would look most -pitifully insignificant; one who, were the dread signal to sound, would -rush out into the danger, and, throwing himself into the chasm, die for -you, amid all the appalling scenes of the chaotic wreck of that train -of cars, as coolly, as determinately, as unselfishly as the Stuart -queen barred the door with her own fair arm, that her liege lord might -escape. And then, methinks, you would feel sad when you saw his form -stretched there dead, all life crushed out of it—once so comely, now -so mangled and unsightly—and thought that, with that poor handful -of dust from which the soul took flight so nobly, you had just been -picking a petty quarrel.</p> - -<p>If you have read the accounts of railroad accidents as carefully -and with such thrilling interest as I have, you will remember many -incidents where brakemen were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> killed while at their post, discharging -their duty. Several have come under my immediate observation. On the H. -R. R. one night I was going over the road, "extra," that is, I was not -running the engine, but riding in the car. I heard a sharp whistle, but -thought it was not of much consequence, for I knew the engineer's long -avowed intention, to never call the brakemen to their posts when the -danger could be avoided; he said he would give them a little chance, -not call them where they had none. The brakemen all sprang to their -posts; the one in the car where I was I saw putting on his brake; the -next instant, with a shock that shook every thing loose and piled the -seats, passengers, stove, and pieces of the roof all into a mass in the -forward end of the car, the engine struck a rock, the cars were all -piled together, and I was pitched into the alley up close to the end -which was all stove in. I felt blood trickling on my hands, but thought -it was from a wound I had received on my head. I soon found that it -was from Charley McLoughlin, the brakeman with whom I had just been -talking, and whom I saw go to his post at the first signal of danger. -The whole lower part of his body was crushed, but he yet lived. We got -him out as soon as possible and laid him <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>beside the track on a door, -then went to get the rest of the dead and wounded. We found one of the -brakemen dead, his head mashed flat; the other one, Joe Barnard, was -hurt just as Charley was, and as they were inseparable companions, -we laid them together. I took their heads in my lap—we did not try -to move them, as the physicians said they could not live—and there -for four long hours I sat and talked with those men whose lives were -surely, but slowly ebbing away. In life they were as brothers, and -death did not separate them, for they departed within fifteen minutes -of each other. But notice this fact—the brakeman who was found dead, -still held in his hand the shattered brake-wheel, and Joe Barnard was -crushed with both hands still grasping his. Yet these men were "only -brakemen!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A DREAM IN THE "CABOOSE." </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A DREAM IN THE "CABOOSE."</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>A first thought of the life of an engineer would be that it was a life -peculiarly exhilarating; that in the mind of an engineer the rush and -flow of strong feeling and emotion would constantly be felt; that the -every-day incidents of his life would keep his nerves continually on -the stretch, and that lassitude would never overtake him. But such -is not the case. I know of no life that a man could live which would -more certainly produce stagnation than it. Every day, in sunshine -or storm, cold or heat, light or darkness, he goes through the same -scenes, bearing the same burdens of care and responsibility, facing -the same dangers, braving grim death ever and all the time until he -loses fear, and the novelty of the at first exhilarating effort to -conquer space and distance, and make time of no account, wears away, -till danger becomes monotonous, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> only an occasional scene of -horror checkers the unchanging current of his every-day life. He knows -every tie on the road; he knows that here is a bad curve, there a weak -bridge, from either of which he may at any time, by the most probable -of possibilities, be hurled to his death; and still every day he rides -his "iron horse," of fiery heart and demon pulse, over the weak places -and the strong, posted at the very front of the procession, which any -one of a thousand contingencies would make a funeral train. He passes -the same stations, blows his whistle at the same point, sees the same -men at work in the same fields, with the same horses that they used -last year and the year before. Two lines of iron stretch before him, to -demand and receive his earnest scrutiny every day, precisely as they -have every day for years.</p> - -<p>He meets the same men on other trains at the same places, and bids them -"hail" and "good-bye" with the same uncertainty of ever seeing them -again that he has always felt, and which has grown so sadly wearisome.</p> - -<p>He alone knows and appreciates the chances against him, but his daily -bread depends upon his running them, so with a resolute will that soon -gets to be the merest trusting to luck, he goes ahead, controlled by -the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> rules, which always have the same dreary penalties attached -to them when violated,—a maimed and disfigured body for the balance of -his days, or a sudden and inglorious death.</p> - -<p>If one of his intimate companions gets killed, he can only bestow a -passing thought upon it, for he has not been unexpectant of it, and he -knows full well that the same accident may at the same place make it -his turn next, as he passes over the same road every day, running the -same chances, as did his friend just gone.</p> - -<p>I had, while I was on the H—— road, a particular friend, an engineer. -We were inseparable, and were both of us, alike, given to fits of -despondency, at which times we would, with choking dread, bid each -other farewell, and "hang around" the telegraph office to hear the -welcome "O K" from the various stations, signifying that our trains had -passed "on time" and "all right."</p> - -<p>One Saturday night, when my engine was to "lay over" for the Sunday -at the upper end of the road, I determined to go back to N——. The -only train down that night, was the one o'clock "night freight," which -Charley, my friend, was to tow with the "Cumberland," a heavy, clumsy -"coal-burner." I went to the engine-house, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> sat down with Charley, -to smoke and talk till his "leaving time" came. He had the blues that -night, and after we had talked awhile, I had them too. So we sat there -slowly puffing our pipes, recalling gloomy tales of our own, and of -others' experience; telling of unlucky engines (a favorite superstition -with many engineers), and of unlucky men, and of bad places on the -road, weak bridges, loose rails, shelving rocks, and bad curves, until -we had got ourselves into the belief that nothing short of a miracle -could possibly enable even a hand-car to pass over the road in any -thing like safety. Had any of the passengers who daily passed over the -road, in the comparative safety of its sumptuous coaches, been there -and heard our description of the road, I guess they would have taken -lodgings at the nearest hotel, sooner than have ridden over the road -that night, towed by that engine, which Charley had more than once -characterized as a "deathtrap" and "man-killer," and proven her right -to the name by alluding to the four men she had killed. At length the -hours had dragged themselves along, and the "Cumberland" was coupled -to the train. As I started for the "Caboose," Charley said to me, "The -'Cumberland' always was and always will be an unlucky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> engine, and -blamed if I know but she will kill me to-night, so let's shake hands, -and good-bye." We shook hands, and I clambered into the "Caboose," -having, it must be confessed, a sneaking kind of good feeling to think -that I was at the rear instead of the front end of those forty cars, -especially as the engine was one that, despite my reason and better -judgment, I more than half-believed was "cursed" with "ill-luck;" by -which I mean, she was peculiarly liable to fatal accidents. Well, I -curled myself up on one of the seats and prepared for sleep; not, -though, in just the frame of mind I would choose in order to secure -"pleasant slumbers" and "sweet dreams." At first my sleep was fitful; -the opening of the door, as the hands frequently went out or came -in; the cessation of the jar and rumble when the train stopped; the -changing of position as I tossed about in my fitful sleep—these all -would wake me. At last, however, I dropped to sleep, and slept long -and soundly. Strange dreams, fraught with terror, filled with wild and -fantastic objects, danced over and controlled my mind. I was placed in -positions of the most awful dread; I was on engines of inconceivable -power, powerless to control them, and they ran with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> the velocity of -light into long trains laden with smiling women and romping children, -whose shrieks mingled with the curses of their husbands and fathers, -who said it was my fault, and cursed me to lingering tortures. Then -the scene would change. I would be on a long straight track, mounted -on an engine which seemed a devil broken loose, and bent on a mission -of death which I could not stir to stop; while away in the distance -was another engine, coming towards me, and I felt, by intuition, that -it was Charley, and then I would see his white and pallid face, clammy -with the sweat of terror, and his long black hair swept back from his -forehead, while agony, despair, and the miserable, hopeless fear of -instant and horrible death shone with lurid, fierce, unnatural fire -from his dark blue eye, and I seemed to know that every one I held -dear was on his train; that my sisters were there looking out of the -window, gaily laughing and watching for the next station, where my -train was to meet theirs, and my mother sat smilingly by, looking on, -while other friends that I loved were saying kind words of me, who, in -another instant, would be upon them with a fiendish, fiery engine of -death. I would shut my eyes, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> scene would change again. I would -be skirting the edges of deep, dark precipices, and while I looked, -shuddering, down into the dark and sombre depths, my whole train would -go over the bank and down, down—still farther down it plunged—till -I seemed to have gone far enough for the nether depths. A sudden -tremendous jar woke me, and I sprang to my feet from the floor to which -I had been hurled, and found myself in utter darkness. For an instant -I did not know where I was, but I soon recalled myself and started out -of the "Caboose," fully convinced that some awful calamity had happened -to the train, and bound to know, in the shortest possible time, whether -Charley or any of the rest of the hands were hurt. I soon saw a light, -and hallooed to know what was the matter. "Nothing," answered Charley's -well-known voice. "Well," says I, "you make a deuce of a fuss doing -nothing." I told him how I was awakened, and we started back to see -what was the matter. We found that, in throwing the "Caboose" in upon -the branch track, he had given it too much headway, and there being no -brakeman on it to check its speed, it had hit the tie laid across the -rail with sufficient force to throw me from the seat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> and put out the -only lamp in the car. So we went home, laughing heartily; but I never -prepared myself for another midnight ride in the "Caboose" of a freight -train by telling horrid stories just before I started.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">AN UNMITIGATED VILLAIN. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<h2>AN UNMITIGATED VILLAIN.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Everybody knows mean men. Everybody knows people that they think are -capable of any mean act, who would, did opportunity present itself, -steal, lie, cheat, swear falsely, or do any other act which is vicious. -But do any of my readers think that they know any one who would be -guilty of deliberately placing an obstruction on a railroad track, over -which he knew that a train, laden with human passengers, must soon -pass? Yet such men are plenty. Such acts are frequently done, and often -with the sole view of stealing from the train during the excitement -which must necessarily ensue after such an accident. Sometimes such -deeds are done from pure revenge, because the man who does it imagines -that the railroad company has done him some injury, and he thinks that -by so doing he will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> reap a rich harvest of vengeance. What kind of a -soul can such a man have? The man who desires to steal, wishes to get -a chance to do so when people's minds are so occupied with some other -idea that their property is not thought of. So he goes to the railroad -track and lifts up a rail, places a tie or a T rail across the track, -or does something that he thinks will throw the train from the track; -and then lies in wait for the accident to happen, calmly and with -deliberate purpose awaiting the event; expecting, amid the carnage -which will probably follow, to reap his reward; calculating, when it -comes, to fill his pockets with the money thus obtained; and when -it does happen, and the heavy train, in which, resting in security, -are hundreds of passengers, goes off the track, is wrecked, and lies -there with every car shattered, and out of their ruins are creeping -the mangled victims, who rend the air with their horrid shrieks and -moans of agony; when the dead and the mangled are mixed up amidst the -appalling wreck; when little children, scarce able to go alone, are -so torn to pieces that they linger only for a few moments on earth; -when families, that a few moments before were unbroken and happy, are -separated forever by the death of the father who lies in sight of the -remaining ones, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> crushed and bleeding mass, or by the loss of the -mother, who, caught by some portion of the wreck, is held, and there, -in awful agony, slowly frets her life away, right in sight of all that -are dear to her; or, maybe, a husband, who is hurrying home to his dear -one lying at the point of death, and anxiously awaiting his coming, -that, before she dies, she may bid him good-bye, he is caught and -mangled so that he cannot move farther, and the wife dies alone. Maybe -a child, long time absent, is hastening home to meet the aged mother or -father, and bid them good-bye ere the long running sands are run out -entirely; but here he is caught, and his last breath of life goes out -with a heart-rending, horrible scream of agony, and only his mangled -corpse can go home. All ties may be rudely sundered. The infant at its -mother's breast may be killed, and its mother clasp its tiny, bleeding -form to her bosom, but it shall smile on her nevermore; its cooing -voice shall not welcome her care again on earth. The mother too may be -killed, and the moaning child may sob and sigh for the accustomed kiss, -but all in vain. The mother, mangled and slain, only holds the child -in the stiff embrace of death. The author of it all—where is he? he -that did the deed? Is he rummaging the baggage or the pockets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> of the -dead to find spoil? If he is, surely every cent he gets will blister -his fingers through all time and in hell. The wail of the dying and -the last gasp of the dead will, through all time, surely ring in his -ears with horrible distinctness, and with a sound ominous of eternal -torture. The horrible sight of the mangled, bleeding bodies, the set -eyes, and jaws locked from excessive torture, will surely fasten on -his eye forever, and blister his sight. Horrid dreams, wherein jibing -fiends shall mock at him and the wail of the damned ring forever in his -ears, shall surely visit his pillow and haunt him every night. Each -voice that he hears amid the carnage shall seem, in after-time, to be -the voice of an accusing angel telling him of his guilt.</p> - -<p>So we would think, and yet men do it. Some in order to have a chance -to steal, others as revenge for some petty injury; and they live, and, -if detected, are sent for ten or twenty years to the penitentiary, as -if that were punishment enough! It may be that I feel too strongly on -the subject, but it seems to me that an eternity in hell would scarce -be more than sufficient punishment for such a damnable deed. I think -I could coolly and without compunction tread the drop to launch such -a being to eternity; for surely no good influence that earth affords -would be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>sufficient to reclaim such a man from the damnable depravity -of his nature. Surely a man capable of such a deed, is a born fiend fit -only for the abiding place of the accursed of God, whose voice should -ever be heard howling in sleepless, eternal agony in the sulphurous -chambers of the devil's home. I do feel strongly on this subject, for -I have stood by and seen many a horrid death of this kind; I have held -the hands of dear friends and felt their last convulsive pressure amid -such scenes, whose deaths were caused by the diabolical malignity of -some devil, who, for the nonce, had assumed human shape, and in revenge -for the death of a cow, or for the unpaid occupation of land, or to get -a chance to rob, had placed something on the track and thrown the cars -therefrom. I have seen things placed on the track, rails torn up, and -other traps, the ingenuity of whose arrangement could only have been -begotten by the devil; and I have shut my eyes and thought that I had -taken my last look at earth and all its glories; but I have escaped. -I never caught one of these wretches, and I never want to; for if I -should, I am afraid I would become an instrument for ridding the earth -of a being who had secured good title (and could not lose it) to an -abode in the nethermost hell. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A PROPOSED RACE<br />BETWEEN<br />STEAM AND LIGHTNING.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A PROPOSED RACE BETWEEN STEAM AND LIGHTNING.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Old Wash. S—— is known by almost every railroad engineer, at least -by reputation. A better engineer, one who could make better time, draw -heavier loads, or keep his engine in better repair, I never knew. But -Wash. had one failing, he would drink; and if he was particularly -elated with any good fortune, or was expecting to make a fast run, he -was sure to get full of whiskey; and though in that state never known -to transgress the rules of the road by running on another train's time, -or any thing of that sort, still he showed the thing which controlled -him by running at a terrible rate of speed. At one time they purchased -a couple of engines for the E. road, on which Wash. was running. These -engines were very large, and were intended to be very fast, being -put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> up on seven feet wheels. From the circumstance of their being -planked between the spokes of their "drivers," that is, having a piece -of plank set in between the spokes, the "boys" used to call them the -"plank-roaders." They were tried, and though generally considered -capable of making "fast time" under favorable circumstances, they -didn't suit that road; so they were condemned to "the gravel-pit," -until they could receive an overhauling, and be "cut down" a foot or -two. Wash. had always considered that these engines were much abused, -and had never received fair treatment; so he obtained permission of the -Superintendent to take one of them into the shop and repair it. At it -he went, giving the engine a thorough overhauling, fixing her valves -for the express purpose of running fast, and making many alterations -in minor portions of her machinery. At last he had the job completed, -and took her out on the road. After running one or two trips on freight -trains to smooth her brasses, and try her working, he was "chalked" -for the fastest train on the road, the B. Express. All the "boys" on -the road were anxious for the result, for it was expected that "Old -Wash." and the "plank-roader" would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>"astonish the natives," that trip. -Wash. imbibed rather freely, and was somewhat under the influence of -liquor when the leaving time of his train came, though not enough to be -noticed; but as minute after minute passed, and the train with which it -connected did not make its appearance, Wash., who kept drinking all the -time, grew tighter and tighter, till at last, when it did come in, an -hour and a half "behind time," Wash. was pretty comfortably drunk; so -much so that some of the men who had to go on the train with him looked -rather "skeery," for they knew that they might expect to be "towed" as -fast as the engine could run. How fast that was no one knew, but her -seven feet wheels promised a near approach to flying.</p> - -<p>At last they started, and I freely confess that I never took as fast -a ride in my life. (Wash. had got me to fire for him.) Keeping time -was out of the question as far as I was concerned, for I had my hands -full to keep the "fire-box" full, and hold my hat on. We had not run -more than ten miles, before the brakemen, ordered by the conductor, -put on the brakes, impeding our speed somewhat, but not stopping us, -for we were on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> heavy down grade, and Wash. had her "wide open," -and working steam at full stroke. At last the conductor came over and -begged Wash. not to run so fast, for the passengers were half scared -out of their senses. Wash. simply pointed to the directions to use all -"due exertion" to make up time, and never shut off a bit. So on we flew -to B., forty miles from where we started, and the first stopping place -for the train. Here the conductor came to Wash. again and told him if -he did not run slower, the passengers were going to leave. Wash. said, -"Let them leave," and gave no promises. Some of them did leave, so also -did one of the brakemen, and the baggageman, but away we went without -them to O., where a message from head-quarters was awaiting us, telling -them to take Wash. from the engine and put another man on in his place. -I told him of the message, and picking up his coat, he got off and -staggered to a bench on the stoop of the depot, where he laid down, -seemingly to sleep. I started back to the engine, but Wash. called -after me, and asked me "how we got the orders to take him off?" I told -him "by telegraph." "Humph," said he, rolling over, "<i>wish I'd known -that, the confounded dispatch never should have passed me!</i>" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<p>Wash. of course was not reinstated, but the "plank-roader" never made -the running time of any of the fast trains with any other man on the -"foot-board." </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">AN ABRUPT "CALL." </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<h2>AN ABRUPT "CALL."</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>"Hi White," as he was familiarly called, was an engineer on the -same road with me. He has been running there for over ten years, -and, although Hi is one of those mad wags who are never so happy as -when "running a rig" on some of their cronies, he was universally -acknowledged to be one of the most competent and careful men that ever -"pulled a plug" on a locomotive.</p> - -<p>In Hi's long career as a runner, he, of course, has met with -innumerable hair-breadth 'scapes; some of them terribly tragic in their -accessories; others irresistibly comic in their termination, although -commencing with fair prospect for a fearful end. Of this latter kind -was an adventure of his, which he used to call "making a morning call -under difficulties." Hi used to run the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>Morning Express, or, as it -was called, the "Shanghæ run," which left the Southern terminus of the -road at 6 o'clock <span class="smaller">A.M.</span> It was a "fast run," making the length -of the road (one hundred and forty-one miles) in three and a half -hours. Hi ran the engine Columbia, a fast "machine," with seven feet -driving wheels, and a strong inclination to mount the rail and leave -the track on the slightest provocation. About midway of the road there -was a large brick house, standing but a rod or two from the track and -on the outside of a sharp curve. As Hi was passing the curve one day, -running at full speed, some slight obstruction caused the Columbia -to leave the track, breaking the coupling between it and the train, -thus leaving the cars on the track. Away went the Columbia, making -the gravel fly until she met with an obstruction in the shape of this -very brick house, which the engine struck square in the broad-side, -and, with characteristic contempt of slight obstacles, crashed its way -through the wall and on to the parlor floor, which, being made for -lighter tread, gave way and precipitated the engine into the cellar -beneath, leaving only the hind end of the tender sticking out of the -breach in the wall. Hi, who had jumped off at the first symptom of this -furious <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>onslaught, looked to see if there were any dead or wounded on -the field of this "charge of his heavy brigade." Seeing that he and -his fireman were both safe, he turned his attention to the Columbia, -which he found "slightly injured but safely housed," lying coolly among -pork barrels, apple bins and potato heaps, evidently with no present -probability of continuing its course. By this time the people of the -house, who were at breakfast in the farther part of the building when -the furious incursion upon their domestic economy took place, came -rushing out, not knowing whether to prepare to meet friend or rebel -foe. Very naturally the first question put to Hi (who was renewing -vegetable matter for present rumination, i. e. taking a new chew of -tobacco), was, "What's the matter?" This question was screamed to Hi, -with the different intonations of the various members of the family. Hi -coolly surveyed the frightened group and replied, "Matter—nothing is -the matter. I only thought I would call on you this morning, and pray," -said he, with the most winning politeness, "<i>don't put yourself to any -trouble on my account</i>." </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE GOOD LUCK OF BEING OBSTINATE. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE GOOD LUCK OF BEING OBSTINATE.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>I think people generally look upon railroad men as a distinct species -of the <i>genus homo</i>. They seem to regard them as a class who have the -most utter disregard for human life, as perfectly careless of trusts -imposed upon them, and as being capable of distinctly understanding -rules the most obscure, and circumstances the most complicated. They -seem to think a railroad man is bound to make time any way, in the face -of every difficulty, and to hold him absolutely criminal if he meets -with any accident, or fails to see his way safe out of any trouble into -which their urging may force him. My impression is that they are wrong, -that railroad men have but human courage, but human foresight, and -should be spared the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> most of the indiscriminate censure heaped upon -them when an accident happens.</p> - -<p>If one were to judge from the words of the press and the finding of -coroners' juries, he would infer that a pure accident, one unavoidable -by human foresight, was a thing unknown; but if he will only think, for -a moment, of all the circumstances, consider the enormous velocity at -which trains move, the tremendous strain thus thrown upon every portion -of the road-bed and the machinery, I think the wonder will be why there -are not more accidents. Think, for a moment, of one or two hundred -tons' weight impelled through the air at a velocity of from one hundred -to two hundred and forty feet per second, and tell me if you do not -consider that the chances for damage are pretty numerous.</p> - -<p>I remember once being detained at a way-station with the Up Express, -waiting for the Down Express to pass me. We were both, owing to snow -and ice on the rails, sadly behind time, and I had concluded just -to wait where I was, until we heard from the other train, though a -liberal construction of the rules gave me the right to proceed "with -due caution;" but I was afraid that, if any thing <i>did</i> happen, there -would be two opinions as to what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> "due caution" meant, so I held still. -The passengers were all uneasy, as they always are, and stormed and -fretted up and down, now coming to me and demanding, in just about -such tones as we would imagine a newly caught she-bear to use, whether -we intended "to keep them there all night?" whether I supposed "the -traveling public would tamely submit to such outrages?" if I thought -they "had no rights in the premises?" etc. These and similar questions -were put to me, some peevishly, some in a lordly manner, evidently -with the intention of bullying me into a start. I generally maintained -the dirty but independent dignity of my position of "runner of that -kettle;" but these latter Sir Oracles, I told that I was too well used -to dealing with fire, water, steam and rock to be scared by a little -"wind." After a while there came a telegraphic dispatch, unsigned, -undated, but saying, "Come ahead;" this raised a terrible "hillabaloo." -The passengers crowded into the cars and looked for an immediate start. -The conductor came to me and said that he thought we had better start. -I told him "No;" that I infinitely preferred to run on good solid rails -rather than telegraph wires, at all times, and more especially when -the wires brought such lame orders as these "Very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> well," says he, "I -don't know but you are right, but I shall leave you to <i>console</i> these -passengers—I'm off to hide," and away he went. Pretty soon out they -came by twos, threes, dozens and scores; and I declare they needed -consolation, for a madder set I never saw. Pshaw! talk about "hornets" -and "bob-tailed bulls in fly-time;" they ain't a circumstance to a -passenger on a railroad train which is an hour behind time. Well, -they blustered and stormed, shook their fists at me, and about twenty -took down my name with the murderous intent of "reporting" me at -head-quarters, and "seeing about this thing" generally. At last some -individual, bursting with wrath, called for an indignation meeting. -The call was answered with alacrity. I attended as a disinterested -spectator, of course; a President and Secretary were appointed, several -speeches were made, overflowing with eloquence, and all aimed at me, -but carrying a few shots for every body on the train, even to the -boy that sold papers. This much had been done, and the committee on -"resolutions which should be utterly annihilating," had just retired, -when a whistle was heard up the track, and down came an extra engine, -running as fast as she could, carrying no light, but bringing news that -the "down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> train" was off the track eleven miles above, and bringing a -requisition for all the doctors in town to care for the wounded, who -were numerous. The "resolution committee" adjourned <i>sine die</i>. I was -never reported, for they all saw that, had I done as they wished me -to, I would have met this extra engine and rendered a few more doctors -necessary for my own train. The blunder of the telegraph was never -explained, but blunder it was, and the more firm was I never to obey a -telegraphic dispatch without it was clear and distinct, "signed, sealed -and delivered." </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">HUMAN LIVES <span class="smaller">VS.</span> THE DOLLAR.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<h2>HUMAN LIVES VS. THE DOLLAR.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Cattle and horses on the track are a continual source of annoyance to -engineers, and have been the occasion of many serious accidents. On the -W. & S. Railroad, not many years since, an accident occurred, with the -circumstances of which I was familiar, and which I will relate.</p> - -<p>George Dean was one of the most accomplished and thorough engineers -that I ever knew. He was running the Night Express, a fast run; while -I was running the through freight, and met him at C—— station. I -arrived there one night "on time," but George was considerably behind; -so I had to wait for him. Just before George arrived at the station, he -had to cross a bridge of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> about 200 feet span; it was a covered bridge, -and the rails were some 30 feet from the water below.</p> - -<p>I had been there waiting for him to pass, for over half an hour, when -I heard his whistle sound at a "blind crossing" about a mile distant; -so I knew he was coming; and as George was a pretty fast runner, I -thought I would stand out on the track and see him come, as the track -was straight, there, for nearly a mile.</p> - -<p>I saw the glimmer of his head-light when he first turned the curve and -entered upon the straight track, and pulled out my watch to time him to -the station, through which he was to pass without stopping. The light -grew brighter and brighter as he advanced with the speed of the wind, -and he was within sixty feet of the bridge, when I saw an animal of -some kind, I then knew not what it was, but it proved to be a horse, -dart out on the track, right in front of the engine. George saw it, I -know, for he gave the whistle for brakes, and a series of short puffs -to scare the horse from the track; but it was of no use; the horse -kept right on and ran towards the bridge. Arrived there, instead of -turning to one side, it gave a jump right on to the bridge, and fell -down between the ties, and there, of course, he hung. On came George's -ponderous engine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> and striking the horse, was thrown from the track -into the floor timbers of the bridge, which gave way beneath the weight -and the tremendous concussion, and down went the engine standing upon -its front, the tender dropped in behind it, and the baggage car and -one passenger car were heaped together on top of them both. I saw them -drop, heard the crash, and at once, with the other men of my train, -started to relieve any that might be caught in the wreck. Leaping down -the embankment forming the approach of the bridge, I waded through the -stream to where the engine stood, my fireman following close behind -me. Looking up, we saw George caught on the head of the boiler. He was -able to speak to us, and told us that he was not much hurt, but his -legs were caught so that he could not move, and from the heat of the -boiler he was literally roasting to death. We climbed up to where he -was caught, to see if we could move him or get him out; but alas! he -could not be helped. His legs lay right across the front of the boiler, -and on them were resting some timbers of the broken baggage car, while -the passenger car was so wedged into the bridge that there was no -prospect of lifting it so as to get George out for many hours. I went -and got him some water, and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> it bathed his forehead and cooled -his parching lips; he talking to me all the time and sending word to -his wife and children. For a few minutes, he bore up under the pain -most manfully; but at last, it grew too intolerable for any human being -to bear, and George, than whom a braver soul never existed, shrieked -and screamed in his agony. He begged and prayed to die. He entreated -us to kill him, and put an end to his sufferings—he even cursed us -for not doing it, asking us how we could stand and see him roast to -death, knowing, too, as we did and he did, that he could not be saved. -He begged for a knife to kill himself with, as he would rather die by -his own hand at once than to linger in such protracted, awful agony. -Oh! it was terrible, to stand there and see the convulsive twitchings -of his muscles, to hear him pray for death, to watch him as his eyes -set with pain, and hear his agonized entreaties for death any way, no -matter how, so it was quick. At last it was ended, the horrible drama -closed, and he died; but his shrieks will never die out from the memory -of those who heard them. The next day, when we got him out, we found -his legs were literally jammed to pieces and then baked to a cinder. -The fireman we found caught between the trucks of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> tender and the -driving-wheel of the engine, and apparently not a bone left whole in -his body; he was utterly smashed to pieces. You could not have told, -only from his clothing, which hung in bloody fragments to his corpse, -that he had ever been a human being. We got them out at last and buried -them. Sadly and solemnly we followed them to the grave, and thought, -with much dread, of when it would be our turn. They lie together, a -plain stone marking their resting-place, and no railroad man ever -visits their graves without a tear in tribute to their memory.</p> - -<p>Thus they died, and thus all that knew them still mourn them. But the -noise of the accident had scarcely ceased echoing amidst the adjoining -hills, ere the owner of the horse was on the ground wishing to know if -any one was there who was authorized to pay for his horse; this, too, -in the face of the fact, afterward proven, that he himself had turned -the horse upon the track, there to filch the feed. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">FORTY-TWO MILES PER HOUR. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> - -<h2>FORTY-TWO MILES PER HOUR.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Nearly every person that we hear speak of travel by rail, thinks that -he has, on numerous occasions, traveled at the rate of sixty miles -an hour; but among engineers this is known to be an extremely rare -occurrence. I myself have run some pretty fast machines, and never -had much fear as to "letting them out," and I never attained that -speed for more than a mile or two on a down grade, and with a light -train, excepting on one or two occasions. Supposing, however, reader, -that we look a little into what an engine has to do in order to run a -mile in a minute, or more time. Say we go down to the depot, and take -a ride on this Morning Express, which goes to Columbus in one hour -and thirty-five minutes, making two stops. We will get aboard of the -Deshler, one of the smartest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> engines on the road, originally built by -Moore & Richardson, but since then thoroughly overhauled, and in fact -rejuvenated, by that prince of <i>master</i>-mechanics, "Dick Bromley." And -you may be sure she is in good trim for good work, as it is a habit -with Dick to have his engines all so. She is run by that little fellow -you see there, always looking good-natured, but getting around his -engine pretty fast. That is "Johnny Andrews," and you can warrant that -if Dick Bromley builds an engine, and Johnny runs her, and you ride -behind her, you will have a pretty fast ride if the time demands it. -The train is seven minutes behind time to-day, reducing the time to -Columbus—55 miles—to one hour and twenty-eight minutes, and that with -this heavy train of ten cars, all fully loaded. After deducting nine -minutes more, that will undoubtedly be lost in making two stops, this -will demand a speed of forty-two miles per hour; which I rather guess -will satisfy you. You see the tender is piled full of wood, enough to -last your kitchen fire for quite a while; but that has got to be filled -again; for, ere we reach Columbus, we shall need two cords and a half. -Look into the tank; you see it is full of water; but we shall have to -take some more; for between here and Columbus, 1558 gallons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> of water -must be flashed into steam, and sent traveling through the cylinders.</p> - -<p>But we are off; you see this hill is before us; and looking behind, you -will see that another engine is helping us. Notwithstanding that help, -let us see what the Deshler is doing, and how Johnny manages her. She -is carrying a head of steam which exerts on every square inch of the -internal surface of the boiler, a pressure of 120 pounds. Take a glance -at the size of the boiler; it is 17 feet 6 inches long, and 40 inches -in diameter. Inside of it there is the fire-box, 48 inches long, 62 -inches deep, and 36 across. From this to the front of the engine, you -see a lot of flues running. There are 112 of these, 10 feet 6 inches -long, and two inches in diameter; and of the inner surface of all this, -every square inch is subjected to the aforesaid pressure, which amounts -to a pressure of 95,005 pounds on each flue. Don't you think, if there -is a weak place anywhere in this boiler, it will be mighty apt to give -out? And if it does, and this enormous power is let loose at once, -where will you and I go to? Don't be afraid, though; for <i>this</i> boiler -is built strongly; every plate is right and sound. Open that fire-door. -Do you hear that enormously loud cough? That is the noise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> made by the -escape, through an opening of 31 square inches only, of the steam which -has been at work in the cylinder. You can feel how it shakes the whole -engine. And see how it stirs up the fire. Whew! isn't that rather a -hot-looking hole? The heat there is about 2800° Centigrade scale. But -we begin to go faster. Listen! try if you can count the sounds made by -the escaping steam, which we call the "exhaust." No, you cannot; but -at every one of those sounds, two solid feet of steam has been taken -from the boilers, used in the cylinder, where it exerted on the piston, -which is fourteen inches in diameter, a pressure of nine tons, and then -let out into the air, making, in so doing, that noise. There are four -of those "exhausts" to every revolution of the driving-wheels, during -which revolution we advance only 17<sup>2</sup>⁄<sub>3</sub> feet. Now we are up to our -speed, making 208 revolutions, changing 33<sup>1</sup>⁄<sub>3</sub> gallons of water into -steam every minute we run, and burning eight solid feet of wood.</p> - -<p>We are now running a mile in one minute and twenty-six seconds; the -driving-wheels are revolving a little more than 3½ times in each -second; and steam is admitted into, and escapes from, the cylinders -fifteen times in a second,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> exerting each time a force of nearly nine -tons on the pistons. We advance 61 feet per second. Our engine weighs -22 tons; our tender about 17 tons; and each car in the train with -passengers, about 17 tons; so that our whole train weighs, at a rough -calculation, 209 tons, and should we strike an object sufficiently -heavy to resist us, we would exert upon it a momentum of 12,749 tons—a -force hard to resist!</p> - -<p>Look out at the driving-wheels; see how swiftly they revolve. Those -parallel rods, that connect the drivers, each weighing nearly 150 -pounds, are slung around at the rate of 210 times a minute. Don't you -think that enough is required of an engine to run 42 miles per hour, -without making it gain 18 miles in that time? Those tender-wheels, too, -have been turning pretty lively meanwhile—no less than 600 times per -minute. Each piston has, in each minute we have traveled, moved about -700 feet. So you see that, all around, we have traveled pretty fast, -and here we are in Columbus, "on time;" and I take it you are satisfied -with 42 miles per hour, and will never hereafter ask for 60.</p> - -<p>Let us sum up, and then bid good-bye to the Deshler and her -accommodating runner, Johnny Andrews. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> drivers have revolved 16,830 -times. Steam has entered and been ejected from the cylinders 67,320 -times. Each piston has traveled 47,766 feet, and we have run only 55 -miles, at the rate of 42 miles per hour.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">USED UP AT LAST. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<h2>USED UP AT LAST.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>The old proverb, that "the pitcher which goes often to the well returns -broken at last," receives, in the lives of railroad men, frequent -confirmation. I have known some men who have run engines for fifteen -or twenty years and met with no accident worthy of note to themselves, -their trains, or to any of the passengers under their charge; but if -they continue running, the iron hand of fate will surely reach them.</p> - -<p>Old Stephen Hanford, or "Old Steve," as he is called by everybody -who knows him, had been running engines for twenty-five years, with -an exemption from the calamities, the smash-ups and break-downs, -collisions, etc., that usually checker the life of an engineer, that -was considered by everybody most remarkable. Night and day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> in rain, -snow and mist, he has driven his engine on over flood and field, and -landed his passengers safely at their journey's end, always. No matter -how hard the storm blew, with sharp forked lightnings, with muttering -thunders, and the pitiless, driving rain, Old Steve's engine, which -from its belching smoke and eating fire seemed the demon of the storm, -came in safe, and the old man, whose eye never faltered, whose vigil -never relaxed, got off from his engine, and after seeing it safely -housed, went to his home, not to dream of the terrors and miseries -of collisions, of the shrieks and groans of victims whom his engine -had trodden down and crushed with tread as resistless as the rush of -mountain torrents. No; all these saddening reflections were spared -him, for he had never had charge of an engine when any fatal accident -happened. Old Steve was one of the most careful men on an engine that I -ever saw. He was always on the watch, and was active as a cat. Nothing -escaped his watchful glance, and in any emergency his presence of mind -never forsook him; he went at once to doing the right thing, and did it -quickly.</p> - -<p>The old man's activity never diminished in the least, but his eyesight -grew weak, and he thought he would leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> the main line, and, like an -old war-horse, in his latter days be rid of the hurry-skurry of the -road. So he took a switch engine in the yard at Rochester and worked -there, leaving the fast running in which he delighted to his younger -comrades, many of whom received their first insight to the business -from Old Steve. He had been there about a year at work, very well -contented with his position, a little outside of the great whirling -current of the road on which he had so long labored, and was one day -standing beside his engine, almost as old a stager as himself, when -with an awful crash the boiler exploded. Old Steve was not hurt by -the explosion, but he started back so suddenly that he fell upon the -other track, up which another engine was backing; the engineer of -which, startled, no doubt, by the explosion, did not see the old man, -until too late, and the wheels passed over him, crushing his leg off, -just above the knee. They picked him up and carried him home; "the -pitcher had been often to the well,"—it was broken at last. Owing to -his vigorous constitution, the shock did not kill him; the leg was -amputated, and now, should you ever be in the depot at Rochester, you -will most likely see Old Steve there, hobbling around on one leg and a -pair of crutches,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> maimed, indeed, but as cheerful as ever. He said to -me, "I am used up, but what right had I to expect any thing else? In -twenty-five years I have bidden good-bye to many a comrade, who, in the -same business, met the stern fate which will most surely catch us all -if we stick to the iron horse."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A VICTIM OF LOW WAGES. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A VICTIM OF LOW WAGES.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>During an absence from home of several weeks, in the past summer, I -traveled in safety, upwards of three thousand miles, but it was not -because the danger was not there, not because the liabilities for -accidents were not as great as ever; it was because human foresight did -not happen to err, and nature happened to be propitious. The strength -of her materials was as much tried as ever, but they were in condition -to resist the strain; so I and my fellow passengers passed safely over -many a place which awoke in me thrilling memories; for in one place, -the gates of death had been in former time apparently swung wide to -ingulf me, but I escaped; at another, I remember to have shut my eyes -and held my breath, while my heart beat short and heavily, as the -ponderous engine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> of which I had the control, crushed the bones and -mangled the flesh of some poor wight caught upon the track, to save -whom I had exercised every faculty I possessed, but all in vain; he -was too near, and my train too heavy for me to stop in time to spare -him. I met many of my old cronies during my absence, and, inquiring for -others, heard the long-expected but saddening news, that they had gone; -their running was over, the dangers they had so often faced overcame -them at last, and now they sleep where "signal lights" and the shrill -whistle denoting danger, which have so often called all their faculties -into play to prevent destruction and save life, are no longer heard. -Others I met, who, in some trying time, had been caught and crushed -by the very engines they had so often held submissive to their will, -and now, maimed and crippled, they must hobble along till the almost -welcome voice of death bids them come and lay their bones beside their -comrades in danger, who have gone before.</p> - -<p>A little paragraph in the papers last winter, announced that a gravel -train, of which Hartwell Stark was engineer, and James Burnham -conductor, had collided with a freight train, on the N. Y. C. R. R.; -that the fireman was killed, and the engineer so badly hurt that he was -not expected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> to live. Perhaps a fuller account of this catastrophe -may be instructive in order to show the risks run by railroad men, the -responsibility resting upon the most humble of them, and the enormous -amount of suffering a man is capable of enduring and yet live. This -gravel train "laid up" for the night at Clyde, and in the morning -early, as soon as the freight trains bound west had passed, proceeded -out upon the road to its work. It was the duty of the switchman to -see that the trains had all passed, and report the same to the men in -charge of the gravel train. This morning it was snowing very hard, -the wind blew strong from the east, and take it altogether, it was a -most unpleasant time, and one very likely to put all trains behind. -Knowing this, the conductor and engineer both asked the switchman if -the freights had all passed. He replied positively that they had. -So, without hesitation, they proceeded to their work. They had left -their train of gravel cars at a "gravel pit," some sixteen miles -distant; so with the engine backing up and dragging the "caboose," -in which were about thirty men, they started. They had got about ten -miles on their way, the wind and snow still blowing in their faces, -rendering it almost impossible for them to see any thing ahead, -even in daylight—utterly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> so in the darkness of that morning, just -before day—when, out of the driving storm, looking a very demon of -destruction, came thundering on at highest speed, the freight train, -which the switchman had so confidently reported as having passed an -hour before they left Clyde. The engineer of the freight train jumped, -and said that before he struck the ground he heard the collision. Hart -tried to reverse his engine, but had not time to do it; so he could -not jump, but was caught in the close embrace of those huge monsters. -The freight engine pushed the "tender" of his engine up on to the -"foot-board." It divided; one part crushed the fireman up against the -dome and broke in the "fire-door;" the wood piled over on top of him, -and the flames rushing out of the broken door soon set it on fire, -and there he lay till he was taken out, eighteen hours afterward, -a shapeless cinder of humanity. The other part caught Hart's hips -between it and the "run-board," and rolled him around for about six -feet, breaking both thigh-bones; and to add to his sufferings a piece -of the "hand-rail" was thrust clear through the flesh of both legs, -and twisted about there till it made gashes six inches long. The steam -pipe being broken off, the hissing steam prevented his feeble cries -from being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> heard, and as every man in the "caboose" was hurt, Hart -began to think that iron rack of misery must surely be his death-bed. -At last, however, some men saw him, but at first they were afraid -to come near, being fearful of an explosion of the boiler. Soon, -however, some more bold than the rest went to work, and procuring a T -rail, they proceeded to pry the wreck apart, and release him from his -horrible position. And so, after being thus suspended and crushed for -over half an hour, he was taken down, put upon a hand-car, and taken -to his home at Clyde, which place he reached in five hours after the -accident. No one expected him to live. The physicians were for an -immediate amputation of both limbs, but to this Hart stoutly objected. -So they finally agreed to wait forty-eight hours and see. At the end -of that time—owing to his strong constitution and temperate habits -of life—the inflammation was so light they concluded to leave poor -Hart with both his legs, and there he has lain ever since. For twelve -weeks he was never moved from his position in the bed, his clothes were -never changed, and he never stirred so much as an inch; and even to -this day—May 20th—he is unable to turn in the bed, though he can sit -up, and when I saw him, was sitting in the stoop cutting potatoes for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -planting, and apparently as happy as a child, to think he could once -more snuff fresh air.</p> - -<p>I should think that such accidents (and they are of frequent -occurrence) would teach the managers of railroads that the policy of -hiring men who can be hired for twenty-five dollars a month, and who -have so little judgment as to sleep on their posts, and then make such -reports as this switchman did, endangering not only the property of -the company, but also jeopardizing the lives of brave and true men -like Hart Stark, and subjecting them to these lingering tortures, is -suicidal to their best interests. Would not an extra ten dollars a -month to all switchmen be a good investment, if in the course of a -year it saved the life of one poor fireman, who otherwise would die as -this poor fellow did; or if it saved one cool and true man from the -sufferings Hart Stark has for the past five months endured?</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">CORONERS' JURIES <span class="smaller">VS.</span> RAILROAD MEN. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CORONERS' JURIES VS. RAILROAD MEN.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Coroner's juries are, beyond a doubt, a very good institution, and -were established for a good purpose; they investigate sudden deaths, -while the matter is still fresh, before the cause has become hidden or -obscured by lapse of time, and in most cases they undoubtedly arrive at -a just conclusion; but in cases of railroad accidents, I never yet knew -one that was not unjust, to a greater or less degree, in its verdict -against employees of the company on the train at the immediate time of -the occurrence.</p> - -<p>I know that in saying this I fly into the face of all the newspapers -of the land, for they have a stereotyped sneer in these words, "<i>Of -course</i> nobody was to blame," at every coroner's jury that fails to -censure somebody, or to adjudge some one guilty of wilful murder. -Nevertheless I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> it, and unhesitatingly declare it. Most -generally it is the engineer and conductor who are censured, sometimes -the brakemen or switchmen; but rarely or never is it the right one who -is branded and placed in the newspaper pillory as unfit to occupy any -position of trust, and guilty of the death of those killed and the -wounds of those wounded. As to an accident that could not be avoided -by human forethought, that idea is scouted, and if a coroner's jury -does ever so far forget what is expected of it by these editors—who -are the self-elected bull-dogs of society, and must needs bark or lose -their dignity—why no words are sufficiently sarcastic, no sentences -sufficiently bitter, to express the contempt which they feel for that -benighted coroner's jury. To be sure they know nothing, or next to -nothing, of the circumstances, and the jury knows <i>all</i> about them. To -be sure, iron will break and so will wood; the insidious frost will -creep in where man cannot probe, and render as brittle as glass what -should be tough as steel; watches will go wrong, and no hundred men can -be found who will on all occasions give one interpretation to the same -words. But what of that?</p> - -<p>Why, the bare idea that any accident upon any road can happen, and -some poor devil of an engineer, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>conductor, brakeman or switchman not -be ready at hand, to be made into a pack-horse on whom to pile all the -accumulated bile of these men who, many of them, have some private -grudge to satisfy—the idea, I say, is preposterous to these men, and -they fulminate their thunders against railroad men, until community -gets into the belief that virtue, honesty, integrity or common dog -sense are things of which a railroad man must necessarily be entirely -destitute; and they are looked upon with distrust, they are driven -to become clannish, and frequently, I must confess, any thing but -polite to the traveling public, whose only greeting to them is gruff -fault-finding, or an incessant string of foolish questions. But are -they so much to blame for this? Would you, my reader, "cast your pearls -before swine?" and can you particularly blame men for not being over -warm to the traveling community which almost invariably treats them as -machines, destitute of feeling, for whose use it pays so much a mile? -Railroad men, though, are not impolite, nor short to everybody. Ask -a jovial, good-natured man, who has a smile and a pleasant word for -everybody, and I'll warrant he will tell you that he gets treated well -enough on railroads; that the engineer answers his questions readily; -that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> brakeman sees that he has a seat; that his baggage is not -bursted open every trip he takes, and the conductor does not wake him -up out of his sleep every five minutes to ask for his ticket. But ask -a pursy, lordly individual, whose lack of brains is atoned for by the -capacity of his stomach, who never asks for any thing, always orders -it, and who always praises the last road he was on, and d—s the one -he is now on; or ask a vinegar-looking, hatchet-faced old maid, who -has eight bandboxes, a parasol, an umbrella, a loose pair of gloves, a -work-bag and a poodle dog, who always has either such a cold that she -knows she "shall die unless that window in front is put down," or else -is certain that she "shall suffocate unless more air is let into the -car," and who is continually asking whoever she sees with a badge on, -whether the "biler is going to bust," or if "that last station ain't -the one she bought her ticket for?"—ask either of these (and there are -a great many travelers who, should they see this, would declare that -I meant to be personal), and they will tell you that railroad men are -"rascals, sir! scamps, sir! every one of them, sir! Why, only the other -day I had a bran-new trunk, and I particularly cautioned the baggageman -and conductor to be careful, and would you believe it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> sir? when I got -it, two—yes, sir! two—of the brass nails were jammed. Railroad men, -from the dirty engineer to the stuck-up conductor, are bent on making -the public as uncomfortable as they can, sir!" Reader, take my advice, -and when you want any thing, go to the proper person and politely ask -for it, and you will get it; but don't jump off and ask the engineer at -every station how far it is to the next station? and how fast he ever -did run? and if he ever knew John Smith of the Pontiac, and Buckwheat -of the Sangamon and Pollywog road, one or the other, but really you -forget which; but no matter, he must know him, for he looked so and -so. Take care; while you are describing the venerable John Smith, that -long oil-can may give an ugly flirt, and your wife have good cause for -grumbling at your greasy cassimere inexpressibles; or a wink from the -engineer to his funny fireman, may open that "pet cock," and your face -get washed with rather nasty feeling water, and the shock might not be -good for you. Don't bore the conductor with too many questions. If you -ask civil questions, he will civilly answer you; but if you bore him -too much by asking how fast "this ingine can run?" he may get cross, or -he may tell how astonishingly fast the celebrated and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> mythical Thomas -Pepper used to run the equally celebrated and mythical locomotive, -"Blowhard." I started this article to tell a story illustrating my -opinion of coroners' juries, but have turned it into a sort of homily -on the grievances of railroad men. No matter; the story will keep, and -the traveling people deserve a little talking to about the way they -treat railroad men.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">ADVENTURES<br />OF<br />AN IRISH RAILROAD MAN.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<h2>ADVENTURES OF AN IRISH RAILROAD MAN.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>On a railroad, as everywhere else, one meets with decidedly "rich" -characters—those whose every act is mirth-provoking, and who, as the -Irishman said, "can't open their mouths without putting their fut in -it." Such an one was Billy Brown, who has been, for nearly thirteen -years, a brakeman on one road; who has run through and escaped many -dangers; who has seen many an old comrade depart this life for—let -us hope, a better one. Scarce an accident has happened on the road in -whose employ he has been so long, but Billy has somehow been there; and -always has Billy been kind to his dying friends. Many a one of them -has breathed out his last sigh in Billy's ear; and I have often heard -him crooning out some wild Irish laments (for Billy is a full-blooded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -Patlander), as he held in his lap the head of some of his comrades -whose life was fast ebbing away from a mangled limb. I well remember -one time, when one of Billy's particular cronies, Mike—the other name -has escaped my memory—was missing from the train to which he was -attached. A telegraphic dispatch was sent to the last station to see -if he was left there; but, no! he was seen to get aboard the train as -it left the station. So the conclusion was clear that Mike had fallen -off somewhere on the road. Half a dozen of us, Billy with the rest, -jumped into a hand-car, and went back to find him. We went once over -the road without seeing any thing; but, as we came back, on passing the -signboard which said "80 rods to the drawbridge," we saw some blood on -it; and, on looking down under the trestlework, we saw poor Mike's body -lying half in the water and half on the rocks. It was but an instant -ere we were down there; but the first look convinced us that he was -dead. As the train was passing over the bridge, he had incautiously -put out his head to look ahead, and it had come in contact with the -signboard, and was literally smashed flat. No sooner had the full -conviction that Mike was dead taken possession of Billy, than he whops -down on his knees, and commences<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> kissing the fellow's bloody face, at -the same time, with many tears, apostrophizing his body somewhat after -this fashion: "Oh! wirra, wirra, Mike dear! Mike dear! and is this the -way ye're afther dyin' to git yer bloody ould hed smashed in wid a -dirty old guideboord?"</p> - -<p>We all felt sad, and sympathized fully with Billy's grief; but the -ludicrousness with which he expressed it, was too much for any of us; -and we turned away, not to hide a tear, but to suppress a smile, and -choke down a laugh.</p> - -<p>But Billy was very clannish; and, to use his own expression, "the -passenger might go hang, if there was any of the railroad byes in the -muss." But as soon as Billy's fears as to any of his comrades being -injured were allayed, no man could be more efficient than he in giving -aid to anybody. Billy was true to duty, and never forgot what to do, -if it was only in the usual routine of his business. Outside of that, -however, he could commit as many Irish bulls as any one.</p> - -<p>I well remember one night I had the night freight to haul. We were -going along pretty good jog, when the bell rang for me to stop. I -stopped and looked back to see what could be the matter. I saw no stir; -so after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> waiting awhile, I started back to see if I could find any -one. After getting back about twenty cars, I found that the train was -broken in two, and that the rest of the cars were away back out of -sight. I hallooed to my fireman to bring a light, and started on foot -back around the curve, to see where they were. I got to the curve, and -saw a light coming up the track towards me; the man who carried it was -evidently running as fast as he could. I stopped to see who it was; and -in a few moments he approached near enough to hail me—when, mistaking -me for a trackman, and without slackening his speed the least, Billy -Brown—for it was he—bellowed out, with a voice like a stentor, only -broken by his grampus-like blowing, "I say, I say, did yees see iver -innything of a train goin' for Albany like h—l jist now?" I believe I -never did laugh quite so heartily in my life, as I did then; and Billy, -turning around, addressed me in the most aggrieved manner possible, -saying: "Pon me sowl now, Shanghi, its mighty mane of yees to be -scarin' the life out of me wid that laff of yours, an' I strivin' as -hard as iver I could to catch up wid yees, and bring yees back, to take -the resht of yere train which ye were afther lavin in the road a bit -back." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<p>Another adventure of Billy's, at which we liked to have killed -ourselves with laughter, and Billy himself liked to have died from -fright, occurred in this wise: I was taking the stock train down the -road one very dark night, and Billy was one of the brakemen. Attached -to the rear of the train were five empty emigrant cars, which we were -hauling over the road. I was behind time, and was running about as -fast as I could, to make up the lost time; when the bell rang for me -to stop. I stopped; and going back to see what was the matter, I found -that two of the emigrant cars had become detached from the train, and -been switched off into the river, just there very close to the track -and very deep; and there they lay, one of them clear out of sight, -and the other cocked up at an angle of about 45 degrees, with one end -sticking out of the water about six feet. On looking around, I found -that all the men were there on hand, except Billy; and he was nowhere -to be found. We at last concluded that he must have been in the cars -that were thrown into the river, and was drowned. But in this we were -soon shown our error; for, from the car that was sticking out of the -water, came a confused sound of splashing, and praying, and swearing, -which soon <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>convinced us that Billy was at least not dead. We hallooed -at him, and asked him if he was hurt. His answer was, "Divil a hurt, -but right nigh drowned; an how'll I get out o' this?" We told him to -get out of the door. "But it's locked." "Unlock it then." "Shure, frow -me a kay an' I will." "Where is your own key?" "Divil a wan o' me -knows. Gone drownded I ixpect." "How deep is the water where you are, -Billy?" "Up till me chin, an' the tide a risin'. Oh! murther, byes, -hilp me out o' this; for I'm kilt intirely wid the wet and the cowld -and the shock til me syshtem——" But we told him we couldn't help him, -and that he must crawl out of a window. "Howly Moses," says Billy, "an' -don't ye know these is imigrant cars, an' the windows all barred across -to kape thim fules from sticking out their heads? an' how'll I get out? -Byes, byes, wad ye see me drown, an' I so close to land, an' in a car -to bute? Ah! now cease yere bladgin, an' hilp me out o' this." After -bothering him to our hearts' content, we got a plank, and crawled out -to the car, only about ten feet from shore, and cutting a hole in the -top, soon had Billy at liberty.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A BAD BRIDGE.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A BAD BRIDGE.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>One cold winter's night, while I was running on the H—— Road, I was -to take the Night Express down the road. The day had been excessively -stormy; the snow had fallen from early dawn till dark, and blown and -drifted so on the track, that all trains were behind time. Especially -was this so on the upper end of the road; the lower end, over which -I was to run, was not so badly blockaded; in fact, on the southern -portion, the storm had been of rain. The train came in three hours -behind, consisting of twenty cars, all heavily loaded with grumbling, -discontented passengers. This was more of a train than I could handle -with my engine, even on the best of rail; but where the rail was -so slippery with snow or ice as it was that night, it was utterly -impossible for me to do any thing with it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> So, orders were given for -another engine to couple in with me; and George P——, with the Oneida, -did so.</p> - -<p>I was on the lead. George coupled in behind me. We both had fast -"machines;" and in a little quiet talk we had before starting, we -resolved to do some pretty fast running where we could.</p> - -<p>The hungry passengers at last finished their meal, it being a -refreshment station; the bell was rang; "all aboard" shouted; and we -pulled out. Like twin brothers those engines seemed to work. Their -"exhausts" were as one, and each with giant strength tugged at the -train. We plowed through the snow, and it flew by us in fleecy, -feathery flakes, on which our lights shone so bright that it seemed as -if we were plunging into a cloud of silver dust. On! on! we rushed; the -few stops we had to make were made quickly; and past the stations at -which we were not to stop, we rushed thunderingly: a jar, a rumble, a -shriek of the whistle, and the glimmering station-lights were away back -out of sight.</p> - -<p>At last we were within fourteen miles of the terminus of our journey. -Both engines were doing their utmost, and the long train behind us was -trailing swiftly on. Soon the tedious night-ride would be over; soon -the weary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> limbs might rest. We were crossing a pile bridge in the -middle of which was a draw. The rising of the water in the river had -lifted the ice, which was frozen to the piles, and thus, I suppose, -weakened the bridge, so that, when our two heavy engines struck it, it -gave away. I was standing at my post, when, by the sudden strain and -dropping of the engine, I knew that we were off the track, but had no -idea of the real nature of the calamity. My engine struck her forward -end upon the abutments of the bridge, knocking the forward trucks from -under her. She held there but an instant of time; but in that instant -I and my fireman sprang upon the runboard, and from thence to the -solid earth. We turned in time to see the two engines go down into the -water, there thirty feet deep; and upon them were piled the baggage, -mail and express cars, while the passenger cars were some thrown from -the track on one side, some on the other. The terrible noise made by -the collision and the hissing made by the cold waters wrapping the -two engines in their chill embrace, deafened and appalled us for an -instant; but the next, we were running back to help the wounded. We -found many wounded and seven dead amidst the wreck of the cars; but -seven more were missing, and among them were six<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> of the railroad men. -After searching high and low, amidst the portion of the wreck on dry -land, we with one accord looked shudderingly down into those black, -chilling waters, and knew that there they lay dead. All night long we -sat there. The wild wintry blasts howled around us; the cold waters -gurgled and splashed amid the wreck; we could hear the wounded groan -in their pains; but we listened in vain for the voices we were wont to -hear. The chill tide, over which the ice was even then congealing anew, -covered them. Mayhap they were mangled in the collision, and their -shriek of pain was hushed and drowned as the icy waters rippled in over -their lips. We almost fancied, when we threw the light of our lanterns -upon the black flood, that we could see their white faces turned up -toward us, frozen into a stony, immovable look of direst fear and -agonizing entreaty.</p> - -<p>Morning came, and still we could not reach our friends and comrades. -Days went by before they were found, but when found each man was at his -post. None had jumped or flinched, all went down with the wreck, and -were found jammed in; but their countenances wore no look of fear, the -icy waters that congealed their expression, did not find a coward's -look among them; all wore a stern,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> unflinching expression that would -have shown you, had you seen them just ere they went down, that they -would do as they did do, stick bravely to their posts, and go down with -the wreck, doing their duty at the cost of their lives. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">A WARNING. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A WARNING.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>I am not, nor was I ever, superstitious. I do not believe in dreams, -signs, witches, hobgoblins, nor in any of the rest of that ilk with -which antiquated maidens were in olden time used to cheer the drooping -spirits of childhood, and send us urchins off to our bed, half scared -to death, expecting to see some horrid monster step out from every -corner of the room, and in unearthly accents declare his intention to -"grind our bones for coffee," or do something else equally horrid, -the contemplation of which was in an equal degree unfitted to render -our sleep sound or our rest placid. Somehow the visitors from the -other world, that children used to be told of, were never pretty nor -angelic, but always more devilish than any thing else. But in these -days, this has changed; for the ghosts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> in which gullible people -deal now, are preëminently silly things. They use their superhuman -strength in tumbling parlor furniture about the rooms, and in drumming -on the floors and ceilings of bed-rooms. The old proverb is, that -"every generation grows weaker and wiser." In this respect, however, -we have reversed the proverb; for a great many have grown stronger -in gullibility and weaker in intellect, else we would not have so -many spiritualists who wait for God and His angels to thump out their -special revelations, or else tumble a table about the room to the tune -of A B C.</p> - -<p>I have known, as have many, probably all of my readers, a great many -people who professed to have the firmest faith in dreams and signs, -who were always preadmonished of every event by some supernatural -means, and who invariably are looking out for singular events when they -have been visited by a singular dream. I have never believed in these -things, have always laughed at them, and do so still. Yet there is one -circumstance of my life, of this kind, that is shrouded in mystery, -that I cannot explain, that I know to be so, and yet can scarcely -believe, when a warning was given to me somehow, I know not how, that -shook me and influenced me, despite my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>ridicule of superstition and -disbelief in signs or warnings of any kind; so that I heeded it, and, -by so doing, saved myself from instant death, and saved also many -passengers who, had they known of the "warning" which influenced me to -take the steps which I did, would have laughed at me, and endeavored -to drive me on. The facts are briefly as follows—I tell them, not -attempting to explain them, nor offering any theory concerning -them—neither pretending that angels or devils warned me, and only -knowing that it was so:</p> - -<p>I was running a Night Express train, and had a train of ten cars—eight -passenger and two baggage cars—and all were well loaded. I was behind -time, and was very anxious to make a certain point; therefore I was -using every exertion, and putting the engine to the utmost speed -of which she was capable. I was on a section of the road usually -considered the best running ground on the line, and was endeavoring to -make the most of it, when a conviction struck me that I must stop. A -something seemed to tell me that to go ahead was dangerous, and that I -must stop if I would save life. I looked back at my train, and it was -all right. I strained my eyes and peered into the darkness, and could -see no signal of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> danger, nor any thing betokening danger, and there -I could see five miles in the daytime. I listened to the working of -my engine, tried the water, looked at the scales, and all was right. -I tried to laugh myself out of what I then considered a childish -fear; but, like Banquo's ghost, it would not down at my bidding, but -grew stronger in its hold upon me. I thought of the ridicule I would -have heaped upon me, if I did stop; but it was all of no avail. The -conviction—for by this time it had ripened into a conviction—that I -must stop, grew stronger, and I resolved to stop; and I shut off, and -blew the whistle for brakes, accordingly. I came to a dead halt, got -off, and went ahead a little way, without saying any thing to anybody -what was the matter. I had my lamp in my hand, and had gone about sixty -feet, when I saw what convinced me that premonitions are sometimes -possible. I dropped the lantern from my nerveless grasp, and sat down -on the track, utterly unable to stand; for there was a switch, the -thought of which had never entered my mind, as it had never been used -since I had been on the road, and was known to be spiked, but which -now was open to lead me off the track. This switch led into a stone -quarry, from whence stone for bridge purposes had been quarried,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> and -the switch was left there, in case stone should be needed at any time; -but it was always kept locked, and the switch-rail spiked. Yet here it -was, wide open; and, had I not obeyed my preadmonition—warning—call -it what you will—I should have run into it, and, at the end of the -track, only about ten rods long, my heavy engine and train, moving at -the rate of forty-five miles per hour, would have come into collision -with a solid wall of rock, eighteen feet high. The consequences, had I -done so, can neither be imagined nor described; but they could, by no -possibility, have been otherwise than fatally horrid.</p> - -<p>This is my experience in getting warnings from a source that I know not -and cannot divine. It is a mystery to me—a mystery for which I am very -thankful, however, although I dare not attempt to explain it, nor say -whence it came. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">SINGULAR ACCIDENTS. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<h2>SINGULAR ACCIDENTS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>The brothers G. are well known to all travelers by the route of -the N. Y. C. R. R. They have been a long time employed there, and -by the traveling public and the company that employ them they are -universally esteemed; but the star of them all, the one most loved -by his companions in toil, respected by travelers, and trusted by -his employers, was Thomas, who met with his death in one of those -calamitous accidents which so frequently mar the career of the railroad -man. I was an eye-witness of the accident, and shall attempt to -describe it.</p> - -<p>The day on which it occurred was a glorious summer one; the breeze -wafted a thousand pleasant odors to my senses; the birds sang their -sweetest songs. As I was journeying along the highway between Weedsport -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> Jordan, I heard the rumble of the approaching train, and as -from where I was I could get a fair view of the passing train, which -was the fastest on the road and was behind time a few minutes, I -stopped to watch it as it passed. On it came, the sun glancing on the -polished engine as it sped along like the wind. The track where I -had stopped, was crossed by two roads, one of them crossing at right -angles, the other diagonally; between the two crossings there was -a large pile of ties placed, probably eight feet from the track. I -saw the engine, which was running at full speed, pass the pile, when -suddenly, without warning, in a second of time, the cars went piling -and crashing over the bank into a promiscuous heap, crushed into each -other like egg-shells. One of them, a full-sized car, turned a complete -somersault; another was turned once and a half around, and lay with -one end down in the ditch, and the other up to the track, while the -third went crashing into its side. I hitched my horse and ran over to -the scene, expecting, of course, that not a soul would be found alive; -arrived there, I found that no person was killed but poor Tom, and not -over a dozen hurt, although the cars were crowded, and not a seat was -left whole in the cars, which were perfectly riddled. They had already -found Tom's body,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> which lay under the truck of the first passenger -car, which had been torn out, and one wheel lay on his neck. He had -no need of care, no need of sympathy, for the first crash killed him; -and so with no notice, no warning, no moment for a faintly whispered -good-bye to those he loved, poor Tom passed away to the unknown shore, -leaving many friends to grieve for him.</p> - -<p>We got him out, laid him beside the track, and stood solemnly by; -grieving that he, our friend, had gone and left no message for the -wife who idolized him, the brothers who had loved him, or the friends -who so fully appreciated his many noble qualities. While we stood thus -speechless with heartfelt, choking grief, a man came up and asked for -the man who had charge of the train. Some one, I forget who, pointed to -the mangled form of poor Tom and said, "There is all that is mortal of -him." Said the thing—I will not call him man—"Dear me! I'm sorry; I -wanted to find some one to pay for my cow."</p> - -<p>It was his cow that had caused the accident, by jumping out against the -baggage car after the engine had passed.</p> - -<p>Another singular accident occurred on a road in the State of New York. -An engine, to which something had happened that required a couple -of sticks of wood out on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> the run-board as fulcrum for a lever, was -passing through a station at full speed, when one of the sticks, that -had carelessly been left outside, fell off and was struck by the end of -the main rod on the backward stroke; impelled backwards by the force -of the blow, it struck a man, standing carelessly beside the track, -full on the side of the head, fracturing his skull, and killing him -instantly.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">LUDICROUS INCIDENTS. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LUDICROUS INCIDENTS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>There is not often much that is comic on the "rail," but occasionally -an incident occurs that brings a loud guffaw from everybody who -witnesses it.</p> - -<p>I remember once standing by the side of an engine that was switching -in the yard. The fellow who was running it I thought, from his actions -while oiling, was drunk, so I watched him. He finished oiling, and -clambered up on to the foot-board and attempted, in obedience to the -orders of the yard-man, to start out. He jerked and jerked at the -throttle-lever, but all to no effect; the engine would not budge an -inch. I saw from where I stood what was the matter, and although nearly -bursting with laughter, I refrained from telling him, but looked on to -see the fun. After pulling for at least a dozen times, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> bawled out -to the yard-man that he couldn't go, and then gave another twitch, but -it was of no use; then he stepped back a step or two and looked at the -throttle, with a look of the most stupid amazement that I ever saw; his -face expressed the meaning of the word "dumbfoundered" completely. At -last the fireman showed him what was the matter. It was simply that he -had set the thumb-screw on the throttle-lever and neglected to unloose -it, in each of his efforts.</p> - -<p>Another laughable affair occurred on one of the Eastern roads, I forget -which. An engine stood on the switch, all fired up and ready to start; -the hands were all absent at dinner. A big black negro, who was loafing -around the yard, became exceedingly inquisitive as to how the thing was -managed—so up he gets and began to poke around. He threw the engine -into the forward gear and gave it steam, of course not knowing what he -was doing; but of that fact the engine was ignorant, and at once, like -a mettled steed, it sprung to full speed and away it went, carrying the -poor darkey an unwilling dead-head ride. He did not know how to stop -it, and dare not jump, for, as he himself expressed it, when found, -"Gorra mity, she mos flew." The engine of course ran until steam ran -down, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> was not in fourteen miles, and Mr. Darkey got off and put -for the woods. He didn't appear at that station again for over a week. -He said that "ef de durn ting had a gon much furder he guessed he'd a -bin white folks."</p> - -<p>"Ol Long," an old friend of mine, tells a pretty good story about an -old white horse that he struck once. Ol says that he was running at -about thirty miles an hour, when an old white horse jumped out on the -track right in front of the engine, which struck him and knocked him -away down into the ditch, where he lay heels up. He of course expected -that the horse was killed, and so reported on arriving at the end of -the road; but what was his surprise, on returning the next day, to see -the self-same old nag quietly eating by the side of the road. Ol says -he believes the old fellow did look rather sour at him, but he could -not apologize. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">EXPLOSIONS. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<h2>EXPLOSIONS.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>It is easy to account for explosions of boilers on the hypothesis of -too great pressure; but it is hardly ever very easy—frequently utterly -impossible—to account for the causes which induce that overpressure. -There are, to be sure, a number of reasons which may be advanced. The -engineer may have screwed the scales down too much, and thus, the -safety-valve not operating to let off the surplus steam, a force may be -generated within the boiler of such tremendous power that the strong -iron will be rent and torn like tissue-paper. This I say may occur, but -in my experience I never knew of such a case. Then again, the water may -get so low in the boiler that, on starting the engine and injecting -cold water upon the hot plates, steam will be generated so suddenly as -not to find vent,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> and in such enormous quantities and of so high a -temperature as to explode the strongest boiler. Again, the water may be -allowed to get low in the boiler, and the plates getting extremely hot, -the motion of the train would generate steam enough by splashing water -against them to cause an explosion. A proper care and due attention to -the gauges would obviate this, and render explosion from these causes -impossible. A piece of weak or defective iron, too, may have been put -into the boiler at the time of its manufacture, and go on apparently -safe for a long time, until at last it gives way under precisely the -same pressure of steam that it has all along held with safety, or it -may be with even less than it has often carried. How the engineer is to -obviate this most fruitful cause of explosions, for the life of me I -cannot see; still if his engine does blow up, everybody and their wives -will believe that it happened entirely through his neglect. A person -who has never seen an explosion, can form no idea of the enormous -power with which the iron is rent. I saw one engine that had exploded, -at a time too when, according to the oaths of three men, it had a -sufficiency of water and only 95 lbs. of steam to the square inch, and -was moving at only an ordinary speed, yet it was blown 65 feet from -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> track, and the whole of one side, from the "check joint" back to -the "cab," was torn wide open—the lower portion hanging down to the -ground, folded over like a table-leaf, and the other portion lay clear -over to the other side, while from the rent, the jagged ends of more -than half of the flues projected, twisted into innumerable shapes. The -frame on that side was broken, and the ends stuck out from the side at -right angles with their former position. I saw another, where the whole -boiler front was blown out and the engine tipped clear over backwards -on to the tender and freight car, where the engineer and fireman were -found, crushed into shapeless masses, lying in the midst of the wreck. -The engine Manchester exploded while standing at a station on the H. -R. R. R., and killed two out of five men, who were standing together -beside the tender. Two of those who were left, deposed, on oath, that -not three minutes before the accident occurred, the engineer tried the -water and found fully three gauges, while there was a pressure of only -ninety-five pounds to the square inch, and it was blowing off.</p> - -<p>How to account for it no one could tell, so every one who knew any -thing whatever in regard to such things, called it "another of the -mysterious visitations of God."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> But the newspapers called it an -evidence of gross carelessness on the part of the engineer.</p> - -<p>Several explosions have been known where the upper tubes were found -unhurt, while the lower ones were, some of them, found badly burnt. The -conclusion in these cases was that the tubes were too close together, -and the water was driven away from them; consequently the starting -of the engine, or the pumping of cold water into the boiler, was -sufficient to cause an explosion.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">HOW A FRIEND WAS KILLED. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<h2>HOW A FRIEND WAS KILLED.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>There is among the remembrances of my life as a railroad man, one of -such sadness, that I never think of it without a sigh. Every man, -unless he be so morose that he cannot keep a dog, has his particular -friends; those in whom he confides, and to whom he is always cheerful; -whose society he delights in, and the possibility of whose death, he -will never allow himself to admit.</p> - -<p>Such a friend had I in George H——. We were inseparable—both of -us unmarried; we would always manage to board together, and on all -possible occasions to be together. Did George's engine lay up for the -Sunday at one end of the road, and mine at the other, one of us was -sure to go over the road "extra," in order that we might be together. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - -<p>George and I differed in many respects, but more especially in this, -that whereas I was one of the "fast" school of runners, who are never -so contented with running as when mounted on a fast engine, with an -express train, and it behind time. George preferred a slow train, -where, as he said, his occupation was "killing time," not "making" it. -So while I had the "Baltic," a fast engine, with drivers six feet and -a half in diameter, and usually ran express trains, George had the -"Essex," a freight engine, with four feet drivers.</p> - -<p>One Saturday night I took the last run north, and was to "lay over" -with my engine for the Sunday at the northern terminus of the road, -until two o'clock Monday P. M. George had to run the "Night Freight" -down that night, and as we wished particularly to be together the -next day, I concluded to go "down the line" with him. Starting time -came, and off we started. I rode for awhile in the "caboose," as the -passenger car attached to a freight train is called, but as the night -was warm and balmy, the moon shining brightly, tinging with silvery -white the great fleecy clouds that swept through the heaven, like -monstrous floating islands of snow drifting over the fathomless waters -of the sea, I went out and rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> with George on the engine. The night -was indeed most beautiful, the moonlight shimmering across the river, -which the wind disturbed and broke into many ripples, made it to glow -and shine like a sea of molten silver. The trees beside the track -waved and beckoned their leafy tops, looking sombre and weird in the -half-darkness of the night. The vessels we saw upon the river, gliding -before the freshening breeze, with their signal lights glimmering -dimly, and the occasional steamers with light streaming from every -window, and the red light of their fires casting an unearthly glare -upon the waters; these all combined to make the scene spread before us, -as we rushed shrieking and howling over the road, one of unexcelled -beauty. We both gazed at it, and said that if all scenes in the life of -a railroad man were as beautiful as this we would wish no other life.</p> - -<p>But something ailed George's engine. Her pumps would not work. After -tinkering with them awhile, he asked the fireman if there was plenty of -water in the tank; the fireman said there was, but to make assurance -doubly sure I went and looked, and lo! there was not a drop! Before -passing through the station George had asked the fireman if there was -plenty of water. He replied that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> there was; so George had run through -the station, it not being a regular stopping place for the train, and -here we were in a fix. George thought he could run from where we had -stopped to the next water station; so he cut loose from the train and -started. We had stopped on the outside of a long curve, to the other -end of which we could see; it was fully a half mile, but the view was -straight across the water—a bay of the river sweeping in there, around -which the track went.</p> - -<p>In about twenty minutes after George had left we saw him coming around -the farthest point of the curve; the brakeman at once took his station -with his light at the end of the cars, to show George precisely where -the train stood. The engine came swiftly towards us, and I soon saw he -was getting so near that he could not stop without a collision, unless -he reversed his engine at once; so I snatched the lamp from out the -brakeman's hands, and swung it wildly across the track, but it was of -no avail. On came the engine, not slackening her speed the least. We -saw somebody jump from the fireman's side, and in the instant of time -allowed us, we looked to see George jump, but no! he stuck to his post, -and there came a shock as of a mountain falling. The heavy freight -engine running,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> as it was, at as high a rate of speed as it could -make, crashed into the train; thirteen cars were piled into a mass of -ruins, the like of which is seldom seen. The tender was turned bottom -side up, with the engine lying atop of it, on its side. The escaping -steam shrieked and howled; the water, pouring in on to the fire, -crackled and hissed; the stock (sheep and cattle) that were in the -cars bellowed and bleated in their agony, and it seemed as if all the -legions of hell were there striving to make a pandemonium of that quiet -place by the river-side. As soon as we recovered from the shock and got -used to the din which at first struck terror to our hearts—and I think -no sound can be more terrible than the bellowing of a lot of cattle -that are crushed in a railroad smash-up—we went to work to see if -George was alive, and to get him out, dead or alive. We found him under -the tender, but one side of the tank lay across his body, so that he -could not move. We got rails and lifted and pried, until we raised the -tender and got him out. We took one of the doors from the wrecked cars, -laid it beside the track, and made a bed on it with our coats and the -cushions from the caboose; for poor George said he wanted to pass the -few moments left him of earth beneath the open sky, and with the cool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> -breeze to fan his cheek. Of course we dispatched a man to the nearest -station for aid, and to telegraph from there for an engine; but it was -late at night, everybody was asleep, and it was more than three hours -before any one arrived, and all that time George lingered, occasionally -whispering a word to me as I bent over him and moistened his lips.</p> - -<p>He told me while lying there the reason why he did not stop sooner. -Something had got loose on the inside throttle gearing, and he could -not shut off steam, nor, owing to some unaccountable complicity of -evil, could he reverse his engine. So on he had to come, pell-mell, and -both of them were killed; for the fireman had jumped on some rocks, and -must have died instantly, as he was most horribly mangled.</p> - -<p>The night wind moaned through the wreck, the dripping water yet hissed -upon the still hot iron of the engine, the waves of the river gurgled -and rippled among the rocks of the shore, and an occasional bellow -of agony was heard from amidst the cattle cars, where all the rest -of the hands were at work releasing the poor creatures; but I sat -there, in sad and solemn silence, waiting for him to die that had been -as a brother to me. At last, just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> we heard the whistle of the -approaching engine, and just as the rising sun had begun to gild and -bespangle the purpling east, George opened his eyes, gave my hand a -faint grasp, and was no more. I stood alone with the dead man I had -loved so in life, but from whom death had now separated me. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">AN UNROMANTIC HERO. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<h2>AN UNROMANTIC HERO.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Those who have traveled much on the Little Miami Railroad, must have -noticed a little old fellow, with grizzled locks and an unpoetical -stoop of the shoulders, who whisks about his engine with all the -activity of a cat, and whom the railroad men all call "Uncle Jimmy." -That is old Jimmy Wiggins, an engineer of long standing and well known. -I believe Uncle Jimmy learned the machinists' trade with Eastwick & -Harrison, in Philadelphia; at all events he has been railroading for a -long time, and has been always noted for his carefulness and vigilance. -Let me attempt to describe him. He is about five feet four inches in -height, stoop-shouldered and short-legged. His hair is iron-gray, and -his face would be called any thing but beautiful. He has, though, a -clear blue eye that looks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> straight and firmly into yours with an -honest and never-flinching expression, that at once convinces you that -he is a "game" man. Not very careful about his dress is old Jimmy; -grease spots abound on all his clothing, and his hands are usually -begrimed with the marks of his trade. In short, Uncle Jimmy is any -thing but a romantic-looking fellow, and a novelist would hesitate -long before taking him as the hero of a romance; but the old man is -a hero, and under that rough, yet placid exterior, there beats a -heart that never cools, and a will that never flinches. We go back -into the history of the past ages to find our heroes, and them we -almost worship, but I question whether the whole history of the world -furnishes a better example of self-sacrificing heroism, than this same -rough and unromantic looking Jimmy Wiggins. It is not the casket that -gives value to the jewel; it is the jewel gives value to all. So with -Uncle Jimmy; rough he looks, but the heart he has makes him an honor to -the race, and deserving of our praise. I'll tell you now why I think so.</p> - -<p>Uncle Jimmy was running a train that laid by on the switch at Spring -Valley for the Up Express to pass. He got there on time, and the -express being a little behind time, the old man took advantage of the -time to oil around.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> The whistle of the up train was heard, but he -paid no heed thereto, for it was to pass without stopping. The fellow -who attended to the switch stood there at his post. Uncle Jimmy was -coolly at work, when a shriek from the conductor called his attention, -and looking up, he saw what would frighten and unnerve almost any -one. The stupid fool at the switch had thrown it wide open, and the -express was already on the branch, coming too at the rate of thirty -miles an hour—thirty feet in the beat of your pulse—and his train -loaded with passengers stood there stock-still. That was a time to try -the stuff a man was made of; ordinary men would have shrunk from the -task, and run from the scene. Your lily-handed, romantic gentry would -have failed then, but homely old Jimmy Wiggins rose superior to the -position, and, unromantic though he looks, proved a hero. No flinch in -him. What though two hundred tons of matter was being hurled at him, -fifty feet in the second?—what though the chances for death for him -were a thousand to one for safety? No tremor in that brave old heart, -no nerveless action in that strong arm. He leaped on to the engine, -and with his charge met the shock; but his own engine was reversed, -and under motion backwards when the other train struck it. It all -took but an instant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> of time, but in that moment old Jimmy Wiggins -concentrated more of true courage than many a man gets into in a -lifetime of seventy years. The collision was frightful; iron and wood -were twisted and jammed together as if they were rotten straw. Charley -Hunt, the engineer of the other train, was instantly killed; passengers -were wounded; terror, fright and pain held sway. Death was there, and -all stood back appalled at what had occurred; yet all shuddered more -to think of what would have been the result had Old Jimmy's engine -stood still, and all felt a trembling anxiety for his fate, for surely, -thought they, "in that wreck his life must have been the sacrifice to -his bravery;" but out of the mass, as cool, as calm as when running on -a straight track, crawled Uncle Jimmy, unhurt. He still runs on the -same road, and long may his days be, and happy.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE DUTIES OF AN ENGINEER. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> - -<h2>THE DUTIES OF AN ENGINEER.</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Those unacquainted with the duties of an engineer, are apt to think -that they are extremely light, and require him simply to sit upon his -seat and, shutting off or letting on the steam, regulate the speed of -his engine. Although this is a part of the duty, still it is but a -small portion, and for the benefit of those of my readers who are not -posted on the matter, I will briefly state a few of the things he has -to think of.</p> - -<p>Say we take the engine lying in the shop cold, and an order comes for -him to go out on the road. There is no water in the boiler; he must -see that it is filled up to the proper level, and that the fire is -started. He must know beforehand that no piece of the machinery is -broken or loosened, so as to endanger the engine. To know this,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> he -must make a personal inspection of every part of the engine—trucks, -wheels, drivers, cranks, rods, valves, gearing, coupling, flues, -scales, journals, driving-boxes, throttle gear, oil cups; in short, -every thing about the engine must be seen to by him personally. He must -know that every journal, every joint on the whole machine is in proper -order to receive the oil necessary to lubricate it, for they will each -and all receive a pretty severe strain in his coming ride, and, unless -well oiled, will be pretty apt to get warm. He must know whether the -flues are tight, or whether there are any leaks in the boiler to cause -him trouble, or render it necessary for him to carry a light pressure -of steam. He must see that there is water in the tank, and wood upon -the tender; that he has upon the engine the tools usually necessary -in case of a breakdown, such as hammers, chisels, wrenches, tongs, -bolts, nuts, coupling-pins, plugs for the flues in case one should -burst, chains, extra links, jack-screws, crow, and pinch-bars, an axe -or hatchet; waste or rags, oil, tallow for the cylinders, and material -for packing any joint that may give out. All this he must see to and -know before he starts. And then, when steam is up, he can go. Now he -must closely watch his time-card, and run so as to make the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> various -stations on time. He must know that his watch is correct and in good -order. He must see closely to his pumps that they work right, and that -the water keeps at the proper level in the boiler. He must watch the -scales that the pressure of the steam does not get too great, also the -working of his engine. To the exhausts of the steam his ear must be as -sensitive as a musical composer would be to a discord, for by it he -can tell much of the condition of his engine, the set and play of the -valves, and the condition of the many joints in the working machinery. -At the same time he must keep the strictest watch of the track ahead of -him, ready-nerved for any emergency that can possibly arise; it may be -a broken rail, cattle on the track, some stubborn, hasty fool striving -to cross the track ahead of him, a broken bridge, washed out culvert, -a train broken down; or it may be some stranger frantically swinging -his hands, and, in every manner possible, endeavoring to attract his -attention. Something may happen to his train or his engine, and he -must keep the strictest watch of both; his hands must be ready to blow -the whistle, shut off steam or reverse his engine, on the instant -intimation of danger, for his engine gets over the ground at a rapid -rate, and nothing but a cool nerve and stout arm can stop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> it, perhaps -not these. And if any thing does happen rendering it necessary for him -to stop, he cannot say to anybody, "Here, do this;" he must go at it -himself; and oftentimes, though it be but a trivial thing, it will tax -his ingenuity to the utmost to repair it. Thus he goes on every day, -be it clear or cloudy, whether summer breeze fill the air with balm, -or the chill winds of winter make the road-bed solid as the rock, and -the iron of the rails and wheels as brittle as glass; whether the rain, -pelting down, makes of every tiny brook a torrent or the drifted snow -blockades the track, and his engine has to plunge into the chilly mass; -through it all his eye must never cease its vigil, nor his arm lose -its cunning. In cold weather he must watch the pumps that they do not -freeze while standing at the stations, or the wheels get fractured -by the frost; and, in cold or warm weather, he must keep watch of -every place where there is the slightest friction, and keep it well -oiled. At every station where time is allowed, he must give the whole -engine a close inspection, lest some little part be out of order, and -endangering some larger and more important piece of the machinery. At -last, after this his journey for the day is ended, his work is by no -means done. He must again inspect his engine, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> if there is any -thing out of order, so much that he cannot without assistance repair -it, he must apply at head-quarters for the necessary aid. But there are -a hundred little matters that he can attend to himself; these he must -see to and do. The friction and enormous strain necessarily wears the -brasses of the journals, and creates what he calls "lost motion," that -is, the journal moves in its box loosely without causing the required -motion in the part of the machinery with which it is connected; this he -must remedy by various expedients. The spring-packing of the piston may -have worn loose, and require to be set out; some one of the numerous -steam joints may be leaking, and these he must repack. Some of the -flues may also be leaking; if so, he must tighten them; or there may -be a crack in the boiler that leaks which can be remedied by caulking; -this he must do. The grate-bars may be broken or disarranged; he must -enter the fire-box and arrange them. The packing in the pumps may have -worn so as to render their operation imperfect, or the valves may be -out of order, or the strainer between the tank and the pump may be -clogged; if either or all be the case, he must take down the pump and -rectify the matter. The smokestack also may be clogged with cinders, or -the netting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> over it may be choked so as to impede the draught; if so, -he must remedy it, or see that it is done. Some of the orifices through -which oil is let on to the machinery may be clogged or too open; these -he must see to. One or more of the journal-boxes of the wheels may need -repacking, and he must do it. An eccentric may have slipped a little, -or a valve-rod been stripped, or a wheel be defective, or a tire on -the driving-wheel may be loose, and have to be bolted on or reset. A -gauge-cock may be clogged, a leaf of a spring broke, or the boiler may -be very dirty and want washing out. Any of these things or a hundred -others may have happened, and require his attention, which must on all -occasions be given to it; for each part, however simple, goes to make -up a whole, that, if out of repair, will render imminent a fearful loss -of life and limb.</p> - -<p>Thus the engineer rides every day, having the same care, and facing -the same dangers, with the same responsibility resting on him. Who -then shall say that, though he be grimy and greasy, rough and uncouth, -given to tobacco-chewing, and sometimes to hard swearing, he is of no -consequence to the world? Who shall blame him too severely if sometimes -he makes an error?</p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div> - - - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRIPS IN THE LIFE OF A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 64815-h.htm or 64815-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/4/8/1/64815">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/8/1/64815</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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