Chapter 9

So he goes on, with hand on regulator and lever, gradually admitting more steam as signal after signal comes nearer and then flies past us, till at last we are clear of the suburbs and find ourselves on a gentle incline and a straight road, with the open fields on either side. It is now that the real business of the journey begins. Locomotives are as sensitive and have as many peculiarities as horses, and have to be as carefully studied if you would ride them fast and far. The lever is put into the most suitable notch for working the steam expansively; the driver's hand is on the regulator, not to be removed for the rest of the trip; the furnace door is thrown wide open, and firing begins in earnest. Here it may not be amiss to state, for the benefit of the uninitiated, that the regulator controls the supply of steam from the boiler, while the lever enables the driver to reverse the engine, or, as we have already stated, to expand the steam by cutting it off before the end of the stroke. The engine answers to the appeal like a living thing, and seems, with its steady beat and sonorous blast, to settle down to its work. It is pleasant from our seat in the corner of the screen to see this preparation for the work ahead--the absolute calm of driver and stoker, who exchange no word, but go steadfastly and quietly about their business; to feel the vibrations from the rails beneath throb through one with slowly increasing rapidity, or watch the trees and houses go past as gulls flap past a boat. For there is a certain apparent swagging movement of the objects past which one travels which can only be likened to the peculiar flight of a large sea-bird. But now there are signs of increased activity on the foot-plate; the stoker is busy controlling the feed of water to the boiler, and fires at more frequent intervals; the driver's hand moves oftener as he coaxes and encourages the engine along the road, his slightest gesture betraying the utmost tension of eye and ear; the stations, instead of echoing a long sullen roar as we go through them, flash past us with a sudden rattle, and the engine surges down the line, the train following with hot haste in its wake. We are in a cutting, and the noise is deafening. Looking ahead, we see an apparently impenetrable wall before us. Suddenly the whistle is opened, and we are in one of the longest tunnels in England. The effect produced is the opposite of that with which we are familiar in a railway carriage, for the change is one from darkness to light rather than from light to darkness. The front of the fire-box, foot-plate, and the tender, which had been rather hazily perceived in the whirl of surrounding objects, now strike sharply on the eye, lit up by the blaze from the fire, while overhead we see a glorious canopy of ruddy-glowing steam. The speed is great, and the flames in the fire-box boil up and form eddies like water at the doors of an opening lock. Far ahead we see a white speck, which increases in size till the fierce light from the fire pales, and we are once more in open day. The weather has lifted, the sky is gray, but there is no longer any appearance of mist. The hills on the horizon stand out sharply, and seem to keep pace with us as the miles slip past. The line is clear; but there is an important junction not far distant, and we slacken speed, to insure a prompt pull-up should we find an adverse signal. The junction signals are soon sighted; neither caution nor danger is indicated, and, once clear of the station, we steam ahead as fast as ever. One peculiarity of the view of the line ahead strikes us. Looking at a railroad line from a field or neighboring highway, even where the rails are laid on a steep incline, the rise and fall of the road is not very strikingly apparent. Seen through the weather-glass, the track appears to be laid up hill and down dale, like a path on the downs above high cliffs. Over it all we advance, the engine laboring and puffing on one or two heavy gradients, in spite of a full supply of steam, or tearing down the inclines with hardly any, or none at all and the brake on. And here it may be noted that, like modern men, modern engines have been put upon diet, and are not allowed to indulge in so much victual as their forefathers. The engine-driver, like the doctor of the new school, is determined not to ruin his patient by over-indulgence, and will tell you severely enough that "he will never be guilty of choking his engine with an over-supply of steam." In the mean time, the character of the country we travel through has changed. It has become more open, and there is a stiff sea-breeze, which makes itself distinctly felt through the rush of air produced by the speed at which we are going. We fly past idle streams and ponds, and as the steam swirls over them are disappointed at producing so little effect; but the ducks, their inhabitants, are well used to such visitations, and hardly deign to move a feather. Suddenly we plunge into a series of small chalk cuttings, and on emerging from them find ourselves parallel with a grand line of downs. We speed by a curve or two, and find ourselves on the sea-shore; one more tunnel, and with steam off we go soberly into the last station. But there is one step more. The breeze blows about our ears. Before us the rails are wet, for the sea swept over them not many hours since, and to accomplish the last few yards of our journey the lever controlling the sand-box must be used liberally, to prevent slipping; the signal is given, and at a walking pace we make our way to where the steamer is awaiting us. A gentle application of the brake pulls us up, and the journey is over. It is difficult to realize, as the engine stands quietly under the lee of the pier while the driver examines the machinery, and the fire, burned low, throws out a gentle warmth as we stand before it, that half an hour ago we were tearing along the line at full speed, while the foot-plate that is now so pleasant to lounge on throbbed beneath us. Nothing now remains but to kill time as best we may till the return trip many hours hence. It scarcely promises to be as comfortable as our morning ride, for the weather has changed--it is blowing half a gale, and the rain comes down in sheets. Our train is timed to start in the small hours, and the night seems dirty and depressing enough as we make our way for a cup of coffee to the refreshment room, where a melancholy Italian sits in sad state eating Bath buns and drinking brandy. We walk past the train, laden with miserable sea-sick humanity, and step on the engine, which stands in the dark at the end of the platform. Time is up, and we pass from the dim half-light of the station into outer darkness. A blacker night there could hardly be; looking ahead there is nothing to be seen but one's own reflection in the weather-glass. We are in the midst of obscurity, which suddenly changes to a rich light as the whistle is opened and we enter a tunnel. The effect is far more striking than in the daytime. The light is more concentrated, and the mouth of the tunnel we have just entered might be the entrance to Hades--for there is no telltale spot of light to prove to our senses the existence of any opening at the other end. The sound echoed from the walls and roof has a tremendous quality, and resolves itself into a grand sort of Wagnerian rhythm, making a vast crescendo, till with a rush we clear the tunnel, and are once more under the open sky. The pace is increasing, the steady beat of the engine tells more distinctly on the ear than in the daytime; the foot-plate is lit up by the glare from the fire-door; but still there is nothing to be seen ahead but the impenetrable night. Looking back, however, the scene is very different. The tender and guard's van glow in the light thrown by the fire, trees and houses by the side of the track stand out sharply for a moment and are then lost to sight, the light from the carriage windows produces the effect of the wake of a ship seen from the stern. Gradually the clouds have rolled away, leaving the sky clear. The moon is seen fitfully through the whirling steam; the surrounding country is visible for miles round. The effect produced is unspeakably beautiful. In the mean time let us turn our attention to the working of the engine. In the first place, let us take note that, although the engine we are now on, and that which took us from London, belong to the same type, their performances are somewhat different. No two engines ever resemble each other, no matter how carefully they may have been built from the same plan, neither do any two drivers manage their engines precisely in the same way. We have in this instance an excellent opportunity of comparing two different methods of driving. It is the driver's principal object to get the required amount of work out of his engine with the smallest possible expenditure of coal and water. To obtain this result the steam must be worked expansively, which is done by placing the valve gear in such a position by means of the lever that the supply of steam to the cylinders is cut off, as we have stated at the beginning of this article, before the piston has accomplished its full stroke. There are two ways of controlling the speed of an engine worked, as all locomotives are worked now, expansively. You may keep the regulator wide open, so that there is always a full supply of steam on its way to the cylinders, in which case you increase or diminish the speed by using the steam more or less expansively through the agency of the lever. Or you may work with the same amount of expansion throughout the journey, and have command of the engine by constantly changing the position of the regulator. There is no doubt that the men who employ the latter method save something by it, although this would hardly seem to be the opinion of the driver who is bringing us rapidly nearer to London, for unlike the driver whom we accompanied on the daylight journey, his hand is not often on the regulator. As we rush on past countless signals, punctual to the minute, yet always having ample time to slacken speed before we come to the places where the different colored lights cluster thickest, we are reminded once more how much is required of an express engine-man besides a thorough acquaintance with the machinery he has to control. Traveling at night at a great speed, he must know every inch of the road by heart--where an incline begins and where it ends, and the exact spot at which every signal along the line may be first sighted. He must have completely mastered the working of the traffic on both the up and down lines, and, above all, must be ready to act with the utmost promptitude should anything go wrong. Mr. Michael Reynolds' publications have done much toward enlightening the public on these points, but we doubt if there are many who really know the amount of toil and danger cheerfully faced by the men on the engine, who hold their lives in their hands day after day for many years. These thoughts occur to us as we recross the Thames and pull up at the platform after a thoroughly enjoyable run.--_Saturday Review_.

* * * * *

The mucilage on postage stamps may not be unhealthy, but persons having a good many to affix to letter envelopes, circulars, newspapers, or other wrappers every day, will consume considerable gum during a year. A less objectionable mode of affixing stamps than the one usually employed is to wet the upper right hand corner of the envelope, and press the stamp upon it. It will be found to adhere quite as well as if the stamp went through the moistening process.

* * * * *

ERYTHROXYLON.

[Footnote: From an "Ephemeris of Materia Medica, Pharmacy, Therapeutics, and Collateral Information." By Edward E. Squibb, M.D., Edward H. Squibb, S.B., M.D., and Charles F. Squibb, A.B.]

COCA.

The condition of the principal markets of the world for this drug has recently been exceptionally bad. That is, whether good coca was sought for in the ports of Central and South America, or in London, Hamburg, or New York, the search, even without limitation in price, was almost invariably unsuccessful. Not that the drug, independent of quality, was scarce, for hundreds of bales were accessible at all times; but the quality was so poor as to be quite unfit for use. The samples, instead of being green and fragrant, were brown and odorless, or musty and disagreeable, at once condemning the lots they represented, to the most casual observation, and yet the price was high enough to have represented a good article. The best that could be done by the most careful buyers was to accept occasional parcels, the best of which were of very inferior quality, and therefore unfit for medicinal uses, and these at very high prices. Coca is well known to be a very sensitive and perishable drug, only fit for its somewhat equivocal uses when fresh and green, and well cared for in packing and transportation. Very much like tea in this and other respects, it should be packed and transported with the same care and pains, in leaded chests, or in some equivalent package. It is very well known that tea, if managed, transported, handled, and sold as coca is, would be nearly or quite worthless, and therefore coca managed as the great mass of it is must be nearly all of it comparatively worthless. If used as tea is, this would probably soon appear; but when used as a medicine which has been highly extolled and well advertised, it seems to go on equally well whether of good or bad quality. It is pretty safe to say that nineteen-twentieths of the coca seen in this market within the past two years must be almost inert and valueless, yet all is sold and used, and its reputation as a therapeutic agent is pretty well kept up. At least many thousands of pounds of the brown ill-smelling leaf, and of preparations made from it, are annually sold. And worse than this, considerable quantities of a handsome looking green leaf, well put up and well taken care of, have been sold and used as coca, when wanting in nearly all its characteristics.

The writer for more than a year past has seen but one or two small lots of moderately good coca, and in common with other buyers has been obliged to buy the best that could be found to keep up his supply of the fluid extract. Almost every purchase has been made on mental protest, and he has been ashamed of every pound of fluid extract sent out, from the knowledge that it was of poor quality; and there seems to be no more prospect of a supply of better quality than there was this time last year, because so long as an inferior quality sells in such enormous quantities at good prices the demands of trade are satisfied.

Under this condition of the markets, the writer has finally decided to give up making a fluid extract of coca, and has left it off his list, adopting a fluid extract of tea instead, as a superior substitute, for those who may choose to use it, and regrets that this course was not taken a year ago.

The character of coca as a therapeutic agent is not very good. The florid stories of a multitude of travelers and writers, up to and including the testimony of Dr. Mantegazza, received a considerable support from so good an authority as Sir Robert Christison, who reported very definite results from trials made upon himself, and upon several students under his immediate control and observation; and his results seem to have led to a very careful and exhaustive series of observations at University College, London, by Mr. Dowdeswell. This paper, published in _The Lancet_ of April 29 and May 6, 1876, pp. 631 and 664, is entitled "The Coca Leaf: Observations on the Properties and Action of the Leaf of the Coca Plant (Erythroxylon coca), made in the Physiological Laboratory of University College, by G.F. Dowdeswell, B.A." The results of these investigations were absolutely negative, and at the close of the work the investigator says: "Without asserting that it is positively inert, it is concluded from these experiments that its action is so slight as to preclude the idea of its having any value either therapeutically or popularly; and it is the belief of the writer, from observation upon the effect on the pulse, etc., of tea, milk and water, and even plain water, hot, tepid, and cold, that such things may, at slightly different temperatures, produce a more decided effect than even large doses of coca, if taken at about the temperature of the body."

Conflicting and contradictory testimony from competent authority is not uncommon in therapeutics, and the reasons for it are well recognized in the impossibility of an equality in the conditions and circumstances of the investigations, and hence the general decision commonly reached is upon the principle of averages.

There can hardly be a reasonable doubt that coca, in common with tea and coffee and other similar articles, has a refreshing, recuperative, and sustaining effect upon human beings, and when well cultivated, well cured, and well preserved, so as to reach its uses of good quality and in good condition, it is at least equal to good tea, and available for important therapeutic uses. Mr. Dowdeswell supposed that he used good coca, but it is very easy to see that with any amount of care and pains he may have been mistaken in this. Had he but used the same parcel of coca that Sir Robert Christison did, the results of the two observers would be absolutely incomprehensible; and the results, in the absence of any testimony on that point, simply prove that the two observers were using a different article, though under the same name, and possibly with the same care in selection. On Sir Robert Christison's side of the question there are many competent observers whose testimony is spread over many years; while on Mr. Dowdeswell's side there are fewer observers. But there has been no observer on either side whose researches have been anything like so thorough, so extended, or so accurate as those of Mr. Dowdeswell. Indeed, no other account has been met with wherein the modern methods of precision have been applied to the question at all; the other testimony being all rather loose and indefinite, often at second or third hands, or from the narratives of more or less enthusiastic travelers. But if Mr. Dowdeswell's results be accepted as being conclusive, the annual consumption of 40,000,000 pounds of coca at a cost of 10,000,000 dollars promotes this substance to take rank among the large economic blunders of the age.[9]

[Footnote 9: An excellent summing up of the character and history of coca, from which some of the writer's information has been obtained, will be found in "Medicinal Plants," by Bentley and Trimen, vol. i., article 40.]

The testimony in regard to the effects of tea, coffee, Paraguay tea, Guarana and Kola nuts, is all of a similar character to that upon coca. Each of these substances seems to have come into use independently, in widely separated countries, to produce the same effects, namely, to refresh, renew, or sustain the physical and mental organism, and it was a curious surprise to find, after they had all been thus long used, that although each came from a different natural order of plants, the same active principle--namely, caffeine--could be extracted in different proportions from all. It is now still more curious, however, to find that for centuries another plant, namely coca, yielding a different principle, has been in use for similar purposes, the effects of which differ as little from those of tea, coffee, etc., as these do among themselves. Yet cocaine is chemically very different from caffeine, simply producing a similar physiological effect in much smaller doses. All these substances in their natural condition seem to be identical in their general physiological effect, but idiosyncrasy, or different individual impressibility or sensitiveness, causes a different action, as well in quality as in degree from the different substances, upon some persons.

In order to throw a little additional light on the comparative activity of the principal individuals of this group of substances, the following trials were made. It is generally admitted, and is probably true, that the same power in these agents which refreshes, recuperates, and sustains in the condition which needs or requires such effects also counteracts the tendency to sleep, or produces wakefulness when a tendency to sleep exists; and, therefore, if a tendency or disposition to sleep could be prevented by these agents, this tendency might be used as a measure of their effects when used in varying quantities, and thus measure the agents against each other for dose or quantitative effect. In this way the proposition is to first measure coca against tea, then coffee against guarana, and finally to compare the four agents, using pure caffeine as a kind of standard to measure by.

An opportunity for such trials occurred in a healthy individual sixty-five years old, not habituated to the use of either tea, coffee, tobacco, or any other narcotic substances, of good physical condition and regular habits, and not very susceptible or sensitive to the action of nervines or so-called anti-spasmodics. Quantities of preparations of valerian, asafoetida, compound spirit of ether, etc., which would yield a prompt effect upon many individuals seem to have little or no effect upon him, nor do moderate quantities of wines or spirits stimulate him. That is to say, he has not a very impressible nervous organization, is not imaginative, nor very liable to accept results on insufficient or partial evidence.

Fully occupied with work, both physical and mental in due proportion, for more than ten hours every secular day, when evening comes he finds himself unable to read long on account of a drowsiness supposed to be of a purely physiological character. With a full breakfast at about 7:30, a full dinner at about 2:30, and a light evening meal about 7, and no stimulants, or tea, or coffee at any time, he finds, as a matter of not invariable but general habit, that by half past 8 drowsiness becomes so dominant that it becomes almost impossible, and generally impracticable, to avoid falling asleep in his chair while attempting to read, even though ordinary conversation be carried on around him.

The first trial to combat or prevent this drowsiness was made with caffeine. The first specimen used was a very beautiful article made by Merck of Darmstadt, and after that by pure specimens made for the purpose, the two kinds being found identical in effect.

Commencing with a one grain dose at about 6:30 P.M., on alternate evenings, leaving the intermediate evenings in order to be sure that the nightly tendency still persisted, and increasing by half a grain each alternate evening, no very definite effect was perceived, until the dose reached 2½ grains, and this dose simply rendered the tendency to sleep resistible by effort. After an interval of three evenings, with the tendency to sleep recurring with somewhat varying force each evening, a dose of 3 grains was taken, the maximum single dose of the German Pharmacopoeia. This gave a comfortable evening of restedness, without sleep or any very strong tendency to it until ten o'clock. Without anything to counteract sleep, the rule was to read with difficulty by nine, without much comprehension by quarter past nine, and either be asleep or go to bed by half past nine. The 3 grain dose of caffeine repeatedly obviated all this discomfort up to ten o'clock, but did not prevent the habitual, prompt, and sound sleep, from the time of going to bed till morning.