a~i B n
THE DRIVER OF THE MAIL
THE DRIVER OF TIHE MAIL.
The Baldwin Library
' ( .
_ __ __________ _
Tales and Descriytionzs for
(THE FORTH BRIDGE)
WITVH FORTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS
ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK
- .---------------- -Js
-- THE DAY-DAWN LIBRARY. -R-
NEW LARGE-SIZE VOLUMES.
Crown 4to, 48 pages, Full of Pictures.
PUSSY'S OWN BOOK.
DOGGIE'S OWN BOOK.
HUMPTY DUMPTY, AND OTHER
LITTLE JACK HORNER, AND
OTHER NURSERY RHYMES.
TOM, TOM, THE PIPER'S SON,
AND OTHER NURSERY RHYMES.
JACK SPRAT, AND OTHER NURSERY
TEN LITTLE NIGGERS, AND
OTHER NURSERY RHYMES.
DING, DONG, BELL, AND OTHER
JOHN GILPIN, AND OTHER NURSERY
LITTLE TOM TUCKER, AND OTHER
MY PET'S PRIMER.
LARGE PICTURE LESSONS.
LITTLE RED WAISTCOAT.
ELLA AND HER RABBIT.
- -- ------ ----- ----------- ---; ---- --~G
THE ENGINE-DRIVER AND THE GUARD.
-i. -, "RIGHT AWAY!"
--: "the whistle shrieks,
and the train steams
out of the terminus
-- -"--" on its long journey,
-- -. under the charge of
its careful driver and
guard. The driver
and guard of a mail,
Sr an express, train,
have a very anxious
S task; they must keep
-l, o k a t time to a minute if
possible, but must
also keep a sharp
look-out for signals.
T he driver must at-
tend to his engine,
,. watching the indi-
cator, and regulating
it accordingly. The guard has his full share of responsibility.
He has to start the train, which is really under his command;
to listen to the driver's whistle, and regulate its speed ac-
cordingly, by the use of the brake; to attend to the passengers'
luggage, look after the mails, etc. The engine-driver's life is
not an easy one; he has to face all weathers, hail, rain, or
storm. In the old engines there was scarcely anything to
shelter him from the drenching shower, or the bitter blast; but
most of those now in use are provided with a hood, or, at
least, a screen, with round glazed peep-holes for him to look
through, so as to protect him as much as possible. If you
have ever taken a railway journey of any distance, you have
6 THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
"RIGHT AWAY "
THE ENGINE-DRIVER AND THE GUARD.
most likely become very tired before you reached the end of it;
how, then, must it be for the driver and his mate, the fire-
man, who go over the same ground again and again ?
Such a journey is pleasant enough for once in a way to those
who are in the humour to enjoy it. Suppose you are leaving
London by one of the great railways; after passing through the
suburbs with their neat villas and trim gardens, you stop,
perhaps, at a junction, at which several lines meet. Then, on
you go through one of the home counties, with its farms and
gentlemen's seats-through the valley of the Thames, or the
hills of Kent or Surrey, or the wooded country northwards.
Fields, trees, and hedges fly past, but the distant objects seem
to travel with us. Presently the first important market town
is reached. On, on we go again, passing sleepy villages, now
stopping at some historic town with its castle or abbey, or
ancient city with its cathedral-till we come to some busy
seaport or fashionable watering-place, or great centre of industry.
Then, on once more, over deep streams and under great
hills, stopping at a town here and there, until the end of the
journey is reached; and the driver and guard, in whose good
care we have been through it all, are free to take a little
THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
THE STEAM-ENGINE AND THE LOCOMOTIVE.
ALL large machines are now moved by steam; and folks travel
by steam on land and water. Steam is the vapour which rises
from water at boiling point; you cannot see it when it is quite
pure. Every steam-engine has a furnace and a large boiler, to
convert the water into steam, and a condenser to turn it into
water again. By these means a plate of metal called a piston
is made to move up and down in a cylinder, or large
tube; and to the piston a rod is attached, which turns wheels
or works machines, as the case may be. Several clever men
are said to have thought of the steam-engine, but James Watt
was the first to make it perfect. He was born at Greenock, in
Scotland, and began to study when he was quite a little boy.
His aunt thought he was idle, and one day scolded him because, she
THE STEAM-ENGINE AND THE LOCOMOTIVE. 9
said, "he would do nothing but take off the lid of the tea-kettle
and put it on again;" but he was trying to learn all he could
about the steam that came from
the spout. A friend one day
found him, when a young man,
sitting by the fire, making a
model engine; he was in high "I, '
spirits, for he had just hit upon ,
the very thing that was wanted i
to complete his great invention. ,
Watt's steam-engine was soon ~
applied to boats; and Robert
Fulton, an American, made a
steamboat at New York, named
the Clermont, which went up the River Hidson-at the rate of
five miles an hour; and about four years after this steamboats
came into use in Great Britain. Locomotive engines, by which
we now travel by steam
on land, were used for
drawing cars and wagons
--in collieries and mines in
.- ..... the year 1804; but they
were very imperfect. In
1821 George Stephenson
Se laid out a colliery railway
-7 from Stockton to Darling-
ton. George Stephenson
was born near Newcastle-
.' on-Tyne, and his parents,
who were very poor, were
COLLIERY RAILWAY. employed in a colliery.
When he was eight years
old, little George had to work in the fields instead of going to
school ; when he had time he used to make toy engines out of
clay. At the age of fourteen he went to help his father in the
io THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN "-60 MILES AN HOUR.
colliery; and from that time he set himself to study the
stationary steam-engine he had to work; it soon became a pet
to him, and he was never tired of watching it. He learned to
read and write; and worked sums on a slate by the light of the
engine fire. He married when he was twenty years old, and
had one son, Robert. His wife died about a year after Robert
was born, and other troubles fell upon him, so that he became
very poor; but a time soon came when people found how clever
he was at mending steam-engines, and after that he got plenty
of work to do. He took care to send his son to school, and
when Robert grew up, he became as clever as his father, and a
great help to him. In the meantime George Stephenson had
found out how to make a railway-engine that would really
travel. Nobody thought much of it at the time, and Stephen-
son was not rich enough to bring it into notice. But in 1821,
THE STEAM-ENGINE AND THE LOCOMOTIVE. II
when Mr. Pease was planning a railroad between Stockton and
Darlington, Stephenson went over to see him. Mr. Pease soon
found that he was just the man he wanted; the railroad was
made, and George Stephenson drove the first locomotive. Mr.
Pease had at first thought of using horses; but Stephenson
assured him that his "Killingworth" engine was worth fifty
horses. This engine was adopted, and did its work splendidly;
it was very ugly and clumsy, but it drew thirty tons at four
miles an hour. Some improvements were made in it, and
next year Stephenson built another, which contained the germ of
all that has since been effected. But his locomotive still attracted
little notice, though Stephenson declared that one day such
engines and railways would be known all over Britain. The
Stockton and Darlington Railway was one of the first examples
of steam locomotion on a railway for passengers. Meanwhile
Stephenson continued to make improvements in his engine, and in
1830, when the Liverpool and Manchester Railway was opened and
a prize of five hundred pounds was offered by the directors for the
best locomotive, Stephenson gained it with the "Rocket." The
" Rocket," which is now in the Patent Museum at South Kensington,
differs very little in appearance from the engines of the present
day, except for its small size; but in the same Museum is a venerable
locomotive, rigged with iron beams and rods, which make it almost
look like a ship. Puffing Billy," as it was called, planned by
William Headley, the overseer of Wylam Colliery, and built
by Jonathan Foster, the smith, compared with one of the
splendid engines now in use, seems a poor bungling piece of
workmanship. But it did good work in Wylam Colliery
from the day it was set rolling to the time it was taken
off to be placed in the Museum: "There being no material
difference between the cumbrous machines that screamed and
jolted along the coal tram-road in 1815, and the elegant
and noiseless locomotives which now take out the express train,
gliding smoothly and swiftly as a bird through the air."
THE RAIL WA Y BOOK.
THE GUARD'S BREAKFAST.
THE GUARD'S BREAKFAST.
--of the early up-train, lives near the
S--- small country station at which the
train stops soon after leaving the busy
S- t'.n from which it starts, and his little girl
LISusV brings him his breakfast every morning.
S -. S' Susy has soon learned the importance of
S keeCp:in:g time; for, if she were to arrive but
.i- 1' seconds late, poor father would have
-.- to without his breakfast; as the signal
W\ uld be down, the whistle would sound, and
A "th -train would be off. Once, and once only,
-- id Susy fail; there had been some extra work
Al t homi:e, and Susy had no idea how the
,' mminutLIs had slipped away, till she heard
her mother call, as she was putting on her
hat, "Come Susy, child, you've only five minutes, and I'm
sure you'll never do it!" Poor Susy seized the can, which her
mother held ready, .and scampered off as fast as her little feet would
carry her; but alas, it was all of no use; she reached the platform
only "just in time to be too late," and will never forget her feeling
of dismay as she saw the end of the train as it steamed out of the
station, with father's face rapidly disappearing from view. The
kind face, however, bore a smile, as father gently shook his head,
as much as to say, "You've made a mess of it this time, little
woman, but I know you did your best, and couldn't help it-' time
and tide wait for no man! '"
But when Susy got home, her mother was not disposed to
treat the matter so lightly, as she did not like her husband going
without his breakfast. Seeing, however, how much the poor
little girl took her reproof to heart, she said no more. But Susy
took good care never to be late again.
A BRAVE ENGINE-DRIVER.
IN the year 1882 an engine-driver named Sieg saved the lives of
more than six hundred passengers by an heroic act of self-
sacrifice. Sieg was driving an engine on the Pennsylvania
Railway, in the United States, at the rate of thirty-five miles
an hour, when the fireman opened the furnace door to feed
the fire. Somehow, it happened that the back draught forced
the flames out so that the car, which is attached to some
locomotives in America, caught fire, and Sieg and his mate
were both driven back over the tender into the passenger portion
of the train, which is not made up of several detached carriages
like ours, but consists of one long continuous car; the engine
was thus left without control, and the train could not be stopped.
Meanwhile the speed increased and the fire with it-threatening
to consume the whole of the train. The passengers were terrified
and helpless-if they jumped off they would be killed, if they
stayed on they would be burned to death. In this terrible crisis
Sieg saw that the only way to save the lives of the passengers
was to go back to the engine and stop the train. So without
shrinking, this brave man rushed through the flames, climbed
back over the tender, reached the engine, and reversed it. When
the train stopped the flames were soon got under, and poor Sieg
was found in the water-tank alive, but so dreadfully injured that
he soon afterwards died.
Back through the flames the hero rushed,
The flames that will not stay,
Until his face and hair were singed,
His clothes were burned away;
Reversed the engine with a will,
For which he suffering braved;
And soon the train was standing still,
Six hundred lives were saved "
A BRAVE ENGINE DRIVER.
A BRAVE ENGINE-DRIVER.
THE RAIL AY BOOK.
.\. __ __
A PLEASANT JOURNEY.
EVERYBODY knows that at times
a railway journey can be very
pleasant--like everything else,
it depends upon circumstances.
There are journeys and journeys.
lThe line may pass through a
lovely country, or traverse a
dreary manufacturing district.
lThe weather may be dull and
wet, or beautifully fine. You
may be travelling on trouble-
., "., some business, or starting for
a holiday. In the picture oppo-
S site, for instance, is Master
Harry, who is going up to
London for the first time. It is very likely he will be dis-
appointed when he gets there, but what of that? He is
happy enough now; everything is fresh to him; he watches with
keen interest the different objects that are pointed out to him
as the train glides through the fair English country. It is
true that you have not so good an opportunity of enjoying the
scenery as if you were travelling by coach in the old days; but
then you get to your journey's end quicker, and see more change.
So vain regrets for the good old coaching days do not trouble
Harry; there is no doubt that he is having A PLEASANT JOURNEY.
So was the little boy in the picture above-up to a certain
point. But pleasant journeys may often be spoiled by heedlessness
and disobedience-and this little Davie, I am sorry to say, was
a rather wilful little boy. On this occasion he was travelling
with his mother and his sister Kate. For some time after the
train started Davie played with Kate; but Kate grew tired, so
Davie went to amuse himself at the window. A gentleman who
was in the carriage warned him against the dangerous habit of
18 THE RAIL WA Y BOOK.
leaning against the door, and drew him away; but while he was
telling Davie's mother about a poor little girl who had been
killed through this, Master Davie stole back to the window,
when all at once the door flew open, and out he went. His
mother was in a dreadful fright; but the train was slackening
speed, as they were approaching a station. So, when they went
back to look for Davie, they found him alive, sitting on the
ground, but in great pain, for his arm was broken.
English folks, it is said, are very shy and reserved when
travelling together, and generally keep each other at a distance.
Such seems to be the case in the above picture.
A START IN LIFE.
MARTHA PAGE is a regular country girl, who has not been to
London in all her sixteen years of life, her mother being only
a poor woman who keeps a shop in a small village about four
miles from the station. Martha left school when she was twelve
years old, and has since been employed to help the housekeeper
up at the hall; but being a sensible girl she is anxious to do
something better for herself. So, on receiving a letter from a
cousin, who is lady's maid in a grand family up in London,
she has made up her mind to take, with the full consent of
her mother, the situation of housemaid in the same establish-
ment, which her cousin is able to offer her. Martha is full
young for the place, but she quite understands its duties, and
THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
is a good honest girl who will do her best to give satisfaction
in whatever position in life she may be called upon to fill. I
think, however, my young readers will agree with me in saying
that she must lengthen her skirts a little, which are too short
and countrified for London fashions; but she is a clever girl,
very quick to see things, and will soon alter that. Mother,"
pleads Martha, as they are waiting for the train-there seems so
much to say in that five minutes-" do promise to write to me
every week!" "Why, of course, my dear, you know I will, for
I shall miss you sadly, and don't know how I shall get on
without you." "Oh, Mother," cries the poor girl, now almost
in tears, "pray, don't say that, or I shall wish I was going to
stay at home after all!" Before Mrs. Page can answer, Ben,
who has been sitting on his sister's box, and has been greatly
interested in all that has been going on at the station, calls out
"Now, Patty, look sharp, here she comes!" So, with a last
kiss to mother, and a hug to Ben, she is soon comfortably
seated in a third-class carriage. Mrs. Page notices that the
kind-looking gentleman who has been walking up and down the
platform, after seeing his luggage labelled by the porter, steps
into the same compartment, and hopes he may speak a kind
word now and then to her poor girl, so that she may feel that
she is not quite friendless and alone. So far, Martha has borne
up bravely, but as the guard's whistle sounds, and the train
slowly steams out of the station, her eyes are full of tears as
she catches a last glimpse of her mother's kind face. But after
a little while, thanks to her youthful spirits, she cheers up a bit,
and begins to take an interest in the journey, as the train passes
one place after another. At one spot she notices some children
on the bank, and this reminds her of Ben, who, like most boys,
is very fond of watching the trains as they pass, and waving his
handkerchief to the passengers. The gentleman, who proves to
be one of Mrs. Page's casual customers, is very kind, so the
sad parting is forgotten, and Martha is soon eagerly looking
forward to meeting her cousin at the terminus.
''II I'irI Iii
A START IN LIFE.
SOMETHING has gone wrong. Perhaps an engine has broken
down, or a truck has run off the line. It is night time, and
the express is due. When it passed the last signal the line
was clear, so it will soon be rushing on at the rate of sixty
miles an hour. What is to be done? A man must be sent
along the line with a red light to stop it if possible. On, on
it comes, rushing at full speed through the darkness--the
passengers, some reading, some talking, many sleeping, quite
heedless of the danger ahead. Presently they are startled by a
loud prolonged whistle. The driver has seen the light-not a
moment too soon-and is signalling to the guard to put on
the break with all his might. The guard obeys with a will;
and in a few minutes the train will pull up-panting and
snorting, and almost tearing up the- rails-just in time, and the
terrified passengers will realise that they have had a narrow
LINE BLOCKED-A SHORT NOTICE TO PULL UP.
S___ THIS scene, to begin with, is
not unlike what we often see
S*1at home. The English tourist
... ., looking for a seat, is confronted
1 ,by the burly Swiss traveller
Siwith his pipe, who wishes to
.--. ,; keep the carriage to himself
and his party. But the mili-
tary-looking official with the
long moustache, quietly but
Firmly holds open the door, and
Monsieur will no doubt be
S permitted to enter, and the train
will soon rush on through some
of the wildest and grandest scenery in the world.
Travelling abroad is, in many respects, different from
TRAVELLING ABROAD. 25
travelling at home. In France passengers are not allowed on
the platform, but are locked in the waiting-room till the train is
ready to start, when they are all let loose to scramble for seats.
In America you can walk from one end of the train to the other,
as the carriages are so connected as to form one long car-so
that folks speak of being on, not in, the train-and there is no
first, second, or third class-it is all one. The American loco-
motive, too, is very different from ours. It has a spreading
fan-like funnel to carry off the smoke, as a great deal of wood
is used for fuel; and a cow-catclher in front, to ward off stray
cattle. A "cab," or house, is placed upon the hinder part, for
the protection of the driver and stoker from the weather.
Here is a characteristic scene on the arrival of a train at a
French railway station.
THE LEVEL CROSSING.
."PASSENGERS are not allowed to cross
-the line." This notice, which appears at
--. most railway stations, and certainly at all
S I -,. junctions where passengers have to change
i,' trains, must be familiar to everybody. For,
Siit generally happens in such cases, that
they have to get to another platform; and
Some folks in their haste might cross the
I. \line, as a "short cut," rather than go up
a number of steps, across a bridge, and down on the other side,
if the dangerous practice were not strictly forbidden by the
railway companies. There are, however, on many of the older
lines, places which are very dangerous, called "level crossings."
These, it is true, mostly occur where the line crosses quiet
country roads, where there are not many people, the gates being
carefully closed when a train is due; but accidents will some-
times happen. A young lady one day was taking a walk along
a country road and came upon one of these level crossings; and
finding the gates were open and no train in sight, she passed
on. But instead of crossing at once she went a little way along
the bank, attracted by some wild flowers; and when she got
back she did not notice that the line was open and that a train
was signalled, so began to cross. But, unfortunately, at the
first rail the heel of her boot caught in one of the iron plates
that fix the metals to the sleepers, or cross-beams of wood;
and there she stood quite powerless to extricate herself. Thus
caught in a trap, and getting more and more nervous, she was
trying to unbutton her boot, when, to her horror, she heard, in
the distance, the rumble of the approaching train. At this
terrible juncture she quite lost her presence of mind, and stood,
shrieking, with her hands spread out, as if to ward off the
engine, now fearfully close at hand. The driver saw her danger,
but could not stop. But the pointsman on duty, who also saw
THE LEVEL CROSSING.
it, at once rushed forward, and opening his pocket-knife, cut
open the boot, and released its owner, just in time to save her
life. It was, however, a narrow escape for both.
TWO RAILWAY INCIDENTS.
STRANGE scenes are sometimes witnessed on railway platforms.
The rogue flying from justice, trusting to the speed of the
express to escape, is thwarted by the flashing of the message
along the wires of the telegraph; and just as he is stepping
out of the carriage, luggage in hand, to make off amid the
TWO RAIL WA Y INCIDENTS. 29
bustle and confusion, he is politely stopped by Mr. Inspector
Bucket! Although he richly deserves the punishment that
awaits him, the scene is a painful one. Let us turn to another.
Two gentlemen with coats and wraps, evidently attired for
a journey, are walking along a busy thoroughfare in the direc-
tion of a neighboring railway terminus. They are not in so
great a hurry, however, but what they can stop and give some-
thing to the crossing-sweeper, a poor but decent looking lad,
who, with his little sister, is standing at the corner. Guess
we've no time to lose, anyhow! cries one. "Better take a
hansom." The sweeper calls a cab, the two friends jump in,
and are driven off. The lad looks after them rather wistfully,
for they have liberally rewarded him for his trouble. It's the
way with them Americans," says he; I wish-" but he pauses,
for his eye falls upon something heavy that little Annie has
30 THE RAIL WA Y BOOK.
just picked up. It is a bag of money, which the gentlemen
have dropped in getting into the cab. Jack cannot leave his
sister; so without more ado he catches her up and runs after
the cab as fast as his burden will let him. It has turned the
corner and is out of sight; but he knows its destination, as
he heard it given to the driver, and makes straight for the
station. When he gets there, out of breath and ready to drop,
the officials will not let him pass the wicket. He can scarcely
speak, but showing the bag, and pointing frantically to the train,
he is at last allowed to pass. Rushing along the platform, and
eagerly scanning the faces of the passengers, he at length
recognizes the two gentlemen, and is just in time to thrust the
bag into the carriage-window as the guard starts the train.
"Guess, young man, we'll meet you again at that same crossing
before long!" cries one, as the train moves off; "we shan't
forget you, or little sister either! "
LONDON UNDERGROUND RAILWAY-GOWER STREET STATION.
The Underground Railway, which was opened in 1863, and
passes beneath certain streets and roads of London, with their
network of gas-pipes, water-mains, etc., is a noteworthy example
of railway engineering.
NICE sociable couple! I think
I hear my readers exclaim, as
they glance at the initial. \Well,
these two passengers don't much
look as if they were enjoying
each other's company, truly
but do not seem able to make
themselves comfortable, all the
same. A long railway journey
is, in any case, very fatiguing;
perhaps these worthy fellow travellers are tired, fidgetty, and
just the least bit out of temper. They should remember that
grumbling is of no use, and will not bring them any nearer
to their journey's end; and that things are a great deal better,
and that much more is done for the comfort of passengers now,
than in the early days of railway travelling. Oh, those early
days, when many of the third-class carriages were open to all
weathers, and often without seats; or if covered, were without
glass windows, and little better than cattle boxes-hard, rigid,
and springless Why, even the first-class carriages were small,
close, and stuffy-very like the old stage-coaches which they had
displaced. Then very few trains carried third-class passengers
at all; for folks who could not afford to travel first or second-
class, the times were few and far between ; while for those for
whom the then dear third-class fare was too much, there was the
wretched "parliamentary" train, starting at an uncomfortably early
hour in the morning, and stopping at every station as it crawled
its slow way along. Now, nearly all trains, even the fast ones,
have nice roomy third-class carriages with covered seats and
curtains even; while the first-class compartments are models of
32 THE RAIL WA Y BOOK.
comfort and easy riding, with cushioned seats, arms to lean upon,
blinds, rugs, and foot-warmers in the winter-time; so that, if you
feel drowsy, there is nothing to prevent you from taking a nap.
And for those who travel all night there is the luxurious Pullman
sleeping-car, which is also a perfect drawing room by day. Then
at all the stations on the line there are refreshment rooms, and
snug waiting-rooms to screen you from the bleak draughty air of
the platform; and, on long journeys, the train generally stops a
certain time at some large station to allow you to dine-the
dinner being all ready; or you can get a nice lunch to eat as
you go along, neatly packed with knives and forks and napkin,
in a basket, which you send back when done with, from some
station further on.
PULLMAN DRAWING-ROOM CAR.
THREE LITTLE TRAVELLERS.
(From "The Boys and I," by Mrs. MOLESWORTH.)
WELL-we were in the train. Our eyes were so red that any
one might have seen something sad had happened to us, but
we didn't care. Tom's eyes were the worst of all, and generally
he would do anything rather than let his red eyes be seen; but
to-day he didn't care; we were too full of being sorry to care
whether people noticed our eyes or not. And at last when
papa had kissed us all three once more for the very last time,
reaching up to the railway-carriage window, and the boys and
I holding him so tight that he was nearly choked; at last it
was all over, all the last tiny endings of good-byes over, and
we three were-it seemed to us, as far as we could understand
it in our childish way-alone in the world.
There was no one else in the railway-carriage-Pierson, of
course, was with us-she had put off being married for two
months, so that she could see us settled and get the new
nurse into our ways, as she called it; she, too, had been
crying, so that she was quite a fright, for her nose was all
bumpy-looking with the way she had been scrubbing at it and
her eyes. She was very kind to us; she took Racey on her
knee, and let Tom and me sit close up to her; and if she had
had three arms she would have put one round each of us I
"Poor dears!" she said, and then she looked so very sad
herself that Tom and Racey took to comforting her, instead of
expecting her to comfort them. I was sad really-three poor
little things like us going away like that; away from everything
we had ever known, away from our nice bright nursery, where
everything a mother could do to make children happy our mother
had done; away from our dear little cots, where mother used to
kiss us every night; and our little gardens where we had worked
.so happily in the summer; away to great big London, where
THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
-li----- -- among the thousand
Ij ll'I,, faces in the street there
was not one we had
ever seen before.
SI thought of all this
in a half-stupid way,
while I sat in the rail-
Sway-carriage with my
S;u i and my head leaning
S, on Pierson's shoulder.
;_ We had never cared
very much about Pier-
a son, but now that she
l i was the only thing left
S, o to us, we began to cling
Sa i to her very much.
I am so glad you've
e notgoneaway, Pierson,"
IX I said, and Pierson
seemed very pleased,
.for I didn't very often
~ say things like that.
Poor dear Miss
Audrey," she said in
return. Poor dear,"
deemed the only words she could think of to comfort us with.
And then we all grew silent, and after a while it began to get
dark, for the days were short now, and Tom and Racey fell
asleep, just sobbing quietly now and then in their breathing--
the way little children do, you know, after they have been crying
a good deal; and I sat quite still, staring out at the gloomy-
looking country that we were whizzing through, the bare trees
and dull fields, so different from the brightness and prettiness
of even a flat unpicturesque landscape on a summer day, when
THREE LITTLE TRAVELLERS.
the sun lights up everything, and makes the fresh green look
still fresher and more tempting. And it seemed to me that the
sky and the sun and all the outside things were looking dull
because of our trouble, and that they were all sorry for us, and
there seemed a queer nice feeling in thinking so.
And after a while I began making pictures to myself of
what I would dd to please mother while she was away; how I
would be so good to Tom and Racey, and teach them to be so
good too; how I would learn to be always neat, and how I
would try to get on with music, which I didn't much like,
but which mother was so fond of that she thought I would
get to like it when I was bigger and had got over the worst
part. And then I began thinking of the letters I would write
to mother, and all I would say in them; and I wondered, too,
to myself very much what Uncle Geoff would be like, for I had
not seen him for some time, and I couldn't remember him
properly at all; and I wondered what his house would be like,
and what sort of a nursery we should have, and what our new
governess would be like, and how everything in our new home
would be. I went on wondering till I suppose my brain got
tired of asking questions it couldn't answer, and without knowing
that I was the least sleepy, I, too, fell fast asleep !
I was busy dreaming-dreaming that I was on board the
ship with papa and mother, and that Uncle Geoff was a lady
come to see the house; in my dream the ship seemed a house,
only it went whizzing along like a railway, and that he had a
face like Pierson's, and he would say poor dear Miss Audrey,"
when another voice seemed to mix in with my dreaming. A
voice that said-
"Poor little souls-asleep are they-all three? Which of
them shall I look after? Here, nurse, you take the boys,
and I'll lift out Miss Audrey."
THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
THE SEASIDE TRAIN.
THE SEASIDE TRAIN.
OW eager are Frank and Harry to spring
out of the train; they can hardly wait
till it stops, although they have been
warned over and over again by their
parents of the dangerous practice of
alighting from a train while it is in
motion. But they are good boys, and a
restraining glance from their kind mother
who is awaiting them is enough to bring
them to their senses. They have, as you
see, just arrived from school, which has
broken up one week later than their sister's.
This is how it is that Rosie has been to the seaside some few
days-her mamma having taken her as soon as her holidays
began. So by this time she feels quite at home, and has found
out the best pools to swim boats in, the best places for shells
and seaweed, and knows all the favourite songs the "niggers"
sing on the sands and on the pier. Rose is naturally very
anxious to tell her brothers all the news, and has been much
excited all the morning; so when the long-expected train at
last steamed into the station, she fairly danced for joy as she
caught sight of Frank's face at the window of the carriage.
Mamma, however, thinks of the luggage, which is being taken
out of the guard's van, and tells the children to walk on while
she gets a porter to carry it to their apartments, where a good
dinner is waiting for the hungry boys.
SEEING FRIENDS OFF.
S--VERYBODY, at one time or another,
S has to take leave of dear relatives or
friends. "The best of friends must
part," is an old proverb; and at no
place is it more shown to be true than
at the railway station, where most folks
go to "see friends off." who are starting
on a journey. Many of these partings are
sad, while others are merry enough. Look
at these young fellows, who have come
to see off an old college chum, who has
run down from town to "look them up."
This is a merry parting, with nothing in
14- ~ nJJ
SEEING FRIENDS OFF. 39
I ____ __ .~ ......
-I _________---- -. --~-~--
:I *! '
~F ~ ~ N "
I ---- ---
it but jokes and light-hearted banter. "Take
chap." Mind you look us up again soon "
the train is off. Or, perhaps, a hard-worked
care of yourself, old
" Au revoir "-and
young barrister has
::----- .=:1 "-~
40 THE RAILWAY BOOK.
been spending a few weeks with a friend in the country; the visit
has been a pleasant one, and the guest has thoroughly enjoyed
the change. But, like all things, pleasant or otherwise, it has
come to an end-business calls, and the guest is driven to the
SEEING FRIENDS OFF. 41
station by his kind host. Both are sorry, but the parting is not
a sad one; they will meet again soon; so, with a hearty shake of
the hand, it is over. Then again, a young gentleman, who has
42 THE RAILWAY BOOK..
studied too hard, may be running down for a few days at the
seaside, or up the river; and his anxious mother and sister
accompany him to the station, and see him off without sorrow, as
they know he will soon return in renewed health and spirits.
But it is far different with the poor mother who has come to
see the last of her little sailor-boy before he joins his ship, or with
the country lass in the picture on page 40. This is a scene of
a few years back; the recruiting sergeant has been in the village,
times are bad, and poor Giles has been persuaded to take the
"Queen's shilling" and enlist for a soldier. So his sister or
sweetheart has come to see him off. Poor lad! all the hard-
ships of a soldier's life are before him, and he looks sorry enough
now, for all the gay ribbons in his hat. But he is a fine manly young
fellow, he will soon cheer up, and may some day come back safe
and sound, with the Victoria Cross on his breast. Perhaps, in
this last picture (page 41), we see the saddest of all kinds of
partings. There has been a sudden bereavement, the head of
the family has been taken away, and the once happy home is
broken up. Brother and sister, who have been used to every
comfort, and have never known what it is to work for a living,
must part, to pursue their separate paths-the one as clerk, the
other as governess-to make their way into the world.
AILY, scenes, like those in the picture
opposite, are witnessed at railway stations.
When folks are eagerly expected, the
arrival of the train is keenly watched by
the friends who have come to the station
to meet them. When at length it
steams past the platform, how anxiously
each passenger is watched, as he alights!
And, when found, with what beaming
smiles and warm welcomes are the
MEETING FRIENDS AT THE STATION.
MEETING FRIENDS AT THE STATION.
"LEFT TILL CALLED FOR."
HERE is a picture of a little girl who has had no one to meet
her at the end of her journey. She has been sent up from the
country in charge of the guard, to be "left till called for" in
the waiting-room, just as if she were so much luggage. Poor
little mite! She sits there very patiently with her basket and
her pretty nosegay, but there is a wistful look in her face, and
she does not seem to care to eat the bun which the kind guard
has given her. She has seen many other children, fellow
passengers, who have been claimed by their friends, hugged, kissed,
and borne off in high glee. And now that the excitement of
the journey is over, and the vast station is deserted and quiet,
and she is all alone in the great waiting-room, she begins to
wonder if her friends have forgotten her. Let us hope that
they will soon arrive, and put an end to her suspense.
"LEFT TILL CALLED FOR." 45
Frrom a Painting by
[By permission of Mr. A. Lucas, Photo.
"LEFT TILL CALLED FOR."
HERE are two pictures of children rescued from fearful injury,
or death, on the line. In the first, a little English country girl,
tired with gleaning in the hot sun, has fallen fast asleep on the
bank, with her sheaf of corn for a pillow, and her legs right across
the rail. On, on comes the train; the driver, on rounding the
curve, comes suddenly on the scene, and takes it all in at a glance, but
it is too late to stop. He blows his whistle as loudly as he can,
but in vain-the little sleeper does not awake. At this juncture,
a brave porter, who also sees the peril she is in, rushes forward
and saves her at the risk of his own life.
?< ': -
The other scene is laid in America, as we may easily see by
the wide funnel of the engine, and the huge cow-catcher in
front. This little girl, who has been gathering wild flowers, has
.48 THE RAIL WAY BOOK.
also fallen asleep, her hand and arm resting on the rail. But
her faithful doggie is sagacious enough to understand her peril.
So, faithful to the last, he places himself, regardless of the"' cow-
catcher," directly in the way of the train, and by his loud barking,
attracts the driver's attention to the danger ahead, in time for him
to avert it.
A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.
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