Chapter 24

“In this great blockade, strange to say, the mortality was but small. Three died during the imprisonment, and two in consequence of cold. But an interesting compensation was made, for five births took place in this season of trial. The principal sufferers were those in the second-class carriages. Room, however, was made for the more delicate in the already crowded first-class cars.”

A SELL.

The _Indianapolis News_ is responsible for the following story. A railroad official of Indianapolis had, among other passes, one purporting to carry him freely over the Warren and Tonawanda Narrow-Gauge Railway. Happening to be near Warren, he thought he would use this pass. Now, it appears that some enterprising citizens of Pennsylvania once proposed to lay a pipe-line for petroleum between Warren and Tonawanda. The Legislature having refused to sanction their scheme, they “engineered” a bill for building a narrow-gauge line, which passed, the oil capitalists not conceiving that they had any interest in opposing it. It is needless to say the narrow-gauge line was the “desiderated pipe-line.” The enterprising citizens carried their joke so far as to issue annual passes over the road, receiving others in return. When the traveller sought for the Warren station on this line he found a chimney, and for the narrow-gauge an iron-lined hole in the ground. It is hardly surprising that now he is moved to anger at the slightest reference to the “Warren and Tonawanda Narrow Gauge.”

AT FAULT.

It is rather a serious matter that our public companies, and especially our railway companies, are doing their best to degrade our language. I am not going to be squeamish and object strongly to the use of the word _Metropolitan_, though I think it indefensible. Still, it is too bad of them to persist in using the word _bye-laws_ for _by-laws_—so establishing solidly a shocking error. The word _bye_ has no existence in England except as short for _be with you_, in the phrase _Good-bye_. The so called by-laws are simple laws by the other laws, and have nothing to do with any form of salutation. In a bill of the Great Western Railway I find the announcement that tickets obtained in London on any day from December 20th to 24th will be available for use on _either_ of those days—this _either_ meaning the five days from the 20th December to the 24th inclusive. Either of five! After this I am not surprised that, in a contribution of my own to a daily paper, the editor gravely altered the phrase _the last-named_, applied to one of three people, to _latter_. In a railway advertisement I read a day or two ago, “From whence.” Now, what is the good of such fine words as _whence_ and _thence_ if they are thus to be ill-used? Surely the railway companies might have some one capable of seeing that their grammar has some pretence to correctness.

—_Gentleman’s Magazine_.

A WIDOW’S CLAIM FOR COMPENSATION.

Some time ago a railway collision on one of the roads leading out of New York killed, among others, a passenger living in an interior town. His remains were sent home, and a few days after the funeral the attorney of the road called upon the widow to effect a settlement. She placed her figures at twenty thousand dollars. “Oh! that sum is unreasonable,” replied the attorney. “Your husband was nearly fifty years old.” “Yes, sir.” “And lame?” “Yes.” “And his general health was poor?” “Quite poor.” “And he probably would not have lived over five years?” “Probably not, sir.” “Then it seems to me that two or three thousand dollars would be a fair compensation.” “Two or three thousand!” she echoed. “Why, sir, I courted that man for ten years, run after him for ten more, and then had to chase him down with a shotgun to get him before a preacher! Do you suppose that I’m going to settle for the bare cost of shoe leather and ammunition?”

THE LADY AND HER LAP-DOG.

The following scene occurred at the high-level Crystal Palace line:—“A newspaper correspondent was amused at the indignation of a lady against the porters who interfered to prevent her taking her dog into the carriage. The lady argued that Parliament had compelled the companies to find separate carriages for smokers, and they ought to be further compelled to have a separate carriage for ladies with lap-dogs, and it was perfectly scandalous that they should be separated, and a valuable dog, worth perhaps thirty or forty guineas, should be put into a dog compartment. I have some of the B stock of the railway, upon which not a penny has ever been paid, and I could not help comparing my experience of this particular line of railway with that of my fellow-traveller, and wondering what sort of a train that would be which would provide accommodation for all the wants and wishes of railway travellers.”

WHAT IS PASSENGERS’ LUGGAGE?

A gentleman removing took with him on the Great Western railway articles consisting of six pairs of blankets, six pairs of sheets, and six counterpanes, valued at £16, belonging to his household furniture. They were in a box, which was put in the luggage van and lost. The question at law was whether these articles came within the definition, “ordinary passengers’ luggage,” for which, if lost, the passenger could claim damages from the Company.

The judges of the Court of Queen’s Bench sitting in Banco have decided that such is not personal luggage.

“Now,” (said the Lord Chief Justice) “although we are far from saying that a pair of sheets or the like taken by a passenger for his use on a journey might not fairly be considered as personal luggage, it appears to us that a quantity of articles of that description intended, not for the use of the traveller on the journey, but for the use of his household, when permanently settled, cannot be held to be so.”

—_Herepath’s Railway Journal_, Jan. 10, 1871.

CONVERSION OF THE GAUGE.

The conversion of the gauge on the South Wales section of the Great Western railway in 1872 was of the heaviest description, the period of labour lasting from seventeen to eighteen hours a day for several successive days. It was the greatest work of its kind, and nothing exactly like it will ever be done in England again. The lines of rail to be connected would have made about 400 miles in single length, the number of men employed was about 1500; and the time taken was two weeks nearly. Oatmeal and barley water was made into a thin gruel and given to the men as required. It was the only drink taken during the day. I had not a single case of drunkenness or illness. I have often heard these men speak with great approbation of the supporting power of oatmeal drink.

—_J. W. Armstrong_, _C.E._

FOURTH-OF-JULY FACTS.

At a banquet in Paris attended by Americans in celebration of the late Fourth of July, Mr. Walker’s speech in reply to the toast of the material prosperity of the United States and France, and the establishment of closer commercial relations between them, was especially striking and interesting. He remarked, “In 1870 the cost of transporting food and merchandise between the Western and Eastern States was from a cent-and-a-half to two cents a ton a mile. I well remember a conversation which I had in 1870 or 1871 with Mr. William B. Ogden, of Chicago, one of the modest railway kings of that primitive period. In a vein of sanguine prophecy, Mr. Ogden exclaimed to me, ‘Mr. Walker, you will live to see freight brought from Chicago to New York at a cent a ton a mile!’ ‘Perhaps so,’ I replied; ‘but I fear this result will not be reached in my time.’ In 1877 or 1878 the cost had fallen to three-eighths of a cent a ton a mile, and although this price was not remunerative, I was told by one of the highest authorities in railway matters that five-eighths of a cent would be perfectly satisfactory. The effect of this reduction in the cost of transportation is precisely as though the unexhaustible grain fields and pastures across the Mississippi had been moved bodily eastward to the longitude of Ohio and Western New York. It is estimated that it takes a quarter of a ton of bread and meat to feed a grown man in Massachusetts for a year. The bread and meat come to him from the far west, and I have no doubt that it will astonish you to be told, as it lately astonished me, that a single day of this man’s labour, even if it be of the commonest sort, will pay for transporting his year’s subsistence for a thousand miles.”

TAY BRIDGE ACCIDENT.

Dec. 28, 1879. A fearful disaster occurred in Scotland. As the train from Edinburgh to Dundee was crossing the bridge, two miles in length, which spans the mouth of the Tay, a terrible hurricane struck the bridge, about four hundred yards of which was, with the train, dashed into the sea below. About seventy persons were in the train, of whom not one escaped, nor, when the divers were able to descend, could a single body be found in the carriages, or among the bridge girders, and some days elapsed before any were recovered. No conclusive evidence could be produced to show whether the train was blown off the rails and so dragged the girders down, or whether the bridge was blown away and the train ran into the chasm thus made. The night was intensely dark, and the wind more violent than had ever been known in the country.

_Annual Register_, 1879.

AN EXTRAORDINARY WAIF.

The following is a translation from the Norwegian newspaper _Morgenbledet_, dated Feb. 20th:—“By private letter from Utsue, an island on the western coast of Norway, is communicated to Dapposten the intelligence that on the 12th inst. some fishermen pulled on the Firth to haul their nets, and had hardly finished their labour when they sighted an extraordinary object some distance further out. The superstitious fears of sea monsters which have been written a good deal about lately held them back for some time, but their curiosity made them approach the supposed sea monster, and, to their great surprise, they found that it was something like a building. As the sea was calm they immediately commenced to tow it to shore, where it was hauled up on the beach, and was then found to be a damaged railway wagon. The wheels were off, the windows smashed, and one door hanging on its hinges. By the name on it, “Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway,” it was at once surmised that it must have been one of the wagons separated from the train which met with the disaster on the Tay Bridge. In the carriage was a portmanteau containing garments, some of them marked ‘P.B.’ The wagon was sent, on the 14th, to Hangesund, to be forwarded thence to Bergen.”

A RAILWAY SLEEPER.

A railway pointsman, caught napping at his post and convicted of wilful negligence, said to the gaoler who was about to lock him up, “I always supposed that the safety of a railroad depended on the soundness of its sleepers?” “So it does,” replied the gaoler, “but such sleepers are never safe unless they are bolted in.”

NOT TO BE CAUGHT.

The following incident is said to have occurred on the North London Railway:—Some time ago a passenger remarked, in the hearing of one of the company’s servants, how easy it was to “do” the company, and said, “I often travel from Broad Street to Dalston Junction without a ticket—anyone can do it—I did it yesterday.” When he alighted he was followed by the official, who asked him how it was done. For a consideration he agreed to tell him. This being given, “Now,” said the inquirer, “how did you go from Broad Street to Dalston Junction yesterday without a ticket?” “Oh,” was the reply, “I walked.”

THE DOCTOR AND THE OFFICERS.

The following is rather a good story from the Emerald Isle:—A doctor and his wife got into a train near—well, we will not say where. In the same carriage with the doctor were two strange officers. The doctor’s wife got into another compartment of the same train, the doctor not having seen his wife in the hurry, neither knew that they were travelling by the same train until both had got into different carriages. Said one of the officers to his companion, “That is the ugliest woman I ever saw.” “She is,” replied the Son of Mars. “I should not like to be obliged to kiss her,” responded the first speaker. “I should not mind doing it,” sullenly said the doctor. “You never would, sir, think of such a thing,” said the officer. “I’ll bet you a sovereign I will,” answered the man of “pills and potions.” “Done,” said the officer. So when they all got out at the station, the doctor went forward and kissed his wife, and won his sovereign—the easiest-earned fee he had ever received. The officers looked rather astonished when he presented his wife to them.

THE BOTHERED QUEEN’S COUNSEL.

Mr. Merewether, Q.C., got into the train one morning with a whole batch of briefs and a talkative companion. He wanted to go through his briefs, but his companion would not let him work. He tried silence, he tried grunting, he tried sarcasm. At length, when they came to Hanwell, the gossip hit upon the unfortunate remark, “How well the asylum looks from the railway!” “Pray, sir,” replied Mr. Merewether, “how does the railway look from the asylum?” The man was silent.

A BRAVE ENGINE DRIVER.

An American contemporary says:—“John Bull, of Galion (Ohio), ought to have his name recorded in an enduring way, for few have ever behaved so nobly as that engine driver of the New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio railroad. As he was driving a passenger train last month he found that, through somebody’s blunder, a freight train was approaching on the same track, and a collision was inevitable. He could have saved his own life by leaping from the engine, but, dismissing all thoughts of himself, he resolved to try and save the passengers committed to his care. So he reversed the engine and set the air-brakes, and then put on full steam, started the locomotive ahead, broke the coupling attached to the train, and dashed on to receive the shock of the collision. The passengers escaped all injury, while the brave engineer was so badly hurt that he died in a few hours. Such heroism as this should not go unnoticed.” The _Cincinnati Inquirer_ says: “He remained in the car until the engine leaped into the air and was dashed into the ditch, when he attempted to spring to the ground, but had his foot caught between the frames of the engine and tender, striking his head on the ground and causing the fatal injuries. Railroad men say that the act of detaching the engine as he did, not even derailing the baggage car with his engine at the high rate of speed, and all in 150 feet, is without parallel in railroading. A purse of 500 dollars was raised by the grateful passengers. The body has been shipped to Galion for burial.”

AN INDUSTRIOUS BISHOP.

In noticing the “Life of the Rt. Rev. Samuel Wilberforce, D.D., Lord Bishop of Oxford, and afterwards of Winchester,” a writer in the _Athenæum_ remarks:—“Busy he was, both in Oxford and in London, and his correspondence with all kinds of people was unusually large. A large proportion of his letters were written in the railway train, and dated from ‘near’ this town, or ‘between’ this and that. We remember to have heard from one who was his companion in a railway carriage that before the journey was half-finished the adjoining seat was littered with envelopes of letters which he had read, and with the answers he had written since he started. All this undeniably shows energy and determination, and power to work.”

COOL IMPUDENCE AND DISHONESTY.

Some days since, the trains of the North London Railway were all late, and consequently every platform was crowded. At one of the stations an unfortunate passenger attempted to enter an already over-crowded first-class compartment, but one of the occupants stoutly resisted the intrusion. Thereupon, the unfortunate one said, “I will soon settle this,” and called the guard to the carriage door. He then requested the official to ask two of the occupants to produce their tickets, which proved to be third-class ones. In spite of the delinquents protesting there was no room in the train elsewhere, they were ejected, and the unfortunate one took their place. The other passengers were naturally rather indignant; and, seeing this, the successful intruder quietly said, “I am very sorry to have had to turn those two gentlemen out, especially as I have heard them say they were already late for an important engagement in the city; and I am all the more sorry, seeing that I only hold a third-class ticket myself.”

—_Truth_.

THE BOOKING-CLERK AND BUCKLAND.

Mr. Frank Buckland had been in France and was returning via Southampton, with an overcoat stuffed with natural history specimens of all sorts, dead and alive. Among them was a monkey, which was domiciled in a large inside breast-pocket. As Buckland was taking his ticket, Jocko thrust up his head and attracted the attention of the booking-clerk, who immediately—and very properly—said, “You must take a ticket for that dog, if it’s going with you.” “Dog,” said Buckland, “it’s no dog, it’s a monkey.” “It is a dog,” replied the clerk. “It’s a monkey,” retorted Buckland, and proceeded to show the whole animal, but without convincing the clerk, who insisted on five shillings for the dog-ticket to London. Nettled at this, Buckland plunged his hand into another pocket and produced a tortoise, and laying it on the sill of the ticket window said, “Perhaps you’ll call that a dog too.” The clerk inspected the tortoise. “No,” said he, “we make no charge for them—they’re insects.”

REMARKABLE RESCUE OF A CHILD.

An engineer on a locomotive going across the western prairie day after day, saw a little child come out in front of a cabin and wave to him, so he got in the habit of waving back to the child, and it was the day’s joy to see this little one come out in front of the cabin door and wave to him while he answered back. One day the train was belated, and it came on to the dusk of the evening. As the engineer stood at his post he saw by the headlight that little girl on the track, wondering why the train did not come, looking for the train, knowing nothing of her peril. A great horror seized upon the engineer. He reversed the engine. He gave it in charge of the other man, and then he climbed over the engine, and he came down on the cowcatcher. He said though he had reversed the engine, it seemed as though it were going at lightning speed, faster and faster, though it was really slowing up, and with almost supernatural clutch he caught the child by the hair and lifted it up, and when the train stopped, and the passengers gathered around to see what was the matter, there the old engineer lay, fainted dead away, the little child alive and in his swarthy arms.

FEMALE FRAGILITY.