treats of railway literature, sleepy porters, crowded platforms, foolish passengers, dark plotters, lively shawls, and other matters.

john marrot was remarkably fond of his iron horse. no dragoon or hussar that we ever read of paid half so much attention to his charger. he not only rubbed it down, and fed and watered it at stated intervals, but, when not otherwise engaged, or when awaiting the signal to start a train, he was sure to be found with a piece of waste rubbing off a speck of dust here or a drop of superfluous oil there, or giving an extra polish to the bright brasses, or a finishing touch to a handle or lever in quite a tender way. it was evidently a labour of love!

on the day which mrs durby had fixed for her journey to london, john and his fireman went to the shed as usual one hour before the time of starting, being required to do so by the “rules and regulations” of the company, for the purpose of overhauling the iron horse.

and, by the way, a wonderful and suggestive volume was this book of “rules and regulations for the guidance of the officers and servants of the grand national trunk railway.” it was a printed volume of above two hundred pages, containing minute directions in regard to every department and every detail of the service. it was “printed for private circulation;” but we venture to say that, if the public saw it, their respect for railway servants and railway difficulties and management would be greatly increased, the more so that one of the first “rules” enjoined was, that each servant should be held responsible for having a knowledge of all the rules—those relating to other departments as well as to his own. and it may not be out of place, certainly it will not be uninteresting, to mention here that one of the rules, rendered prominent by large black capitals, enjoined that “the public safety must be the first and chief care of every officer and servant of the company.” we have reason to believe that all the railways in the kingdom give this rule equal prominence in spirit—probably also in type. in this little volume it was likewise interesting to note, that civility to the public was strictly enjoined; and sure we are that every railway traveller will agree with us in the opinion that railway agents, guards, and porters, all, in short with whom the public come in contact, obey this rule heartily, in the spirit and in the letter.

the particular rules in the book which affected our engine-driver were uncommonly stringent, and very properly so, seeing that the lives of so many persons depended on the constancy of his coolness, courage, and vigilance. john marrot, like all the engine-drivers on the line, was a picked man. in virtue of his superior character and abilities he received wages to the extent of 2 pounds, 10 shillings per week. among other things, he was enjoined by his “rules and regulations,” very strictly, to give a loud whistle before starting, to start his train slowly and without a jerk, and to take his orders to start only from the guard; also, to approach stations or stopping places cautiously, and with the train well under control, and to be guided in the matter of shutting off steam, by such considerations as the number of vehicles in the train, and the state of the weather and rails, so as to avoid violent application of the brakes. moreover, he was bound to do his best to keep to his exact time, and to account for any loss thereof by entering the cause of delay on his report-ticket. he was also earnestly enjoined to use every effort which might conduce to the safety of the public, and was authorised to refuse to proceed with any carriage or waggon which, from hot axles or otherwise, was in his opinion unfit to run. these are but a few specimens culled from a multitude of rules bearing on the minutest details of his duty as to driving, shunting, signalling, junction and level crossing, etcetera, with all of which he had to become not merely acquainted, but so intimately familiar that his mind could grasp them collectively, relatively, or individually at any moment, so as to act instantaneously, yet coolly, while going like a giant bomb-shell through the air—with human lives in the balance to add weight to his responsibilities.

if any man in the world needed a cool clear head and a quick steady hand, with ample nightly as well as sabbath rest, that man was john marrot, the engine-driver. when we think of the constant pressure of responsibility that lay on him, and the numbers in the kingdom of the class to which he belonged, it seems to us almost a standing miracle that railways are so safe and accidents so very rare.

while our engine-driver was harnessing his iron steed, another of the railway servants, having eaten his dinner, felt himself rather sleepy, and resolved to have a short nap. it was our friend sam natly, the porter, who came to this unwise as well as unfair resolution. yet although we are bound to condemn sam, we are entitled to palliate his offence and constrained to pity him, for his period of duty during the past week had been fifteen hours a day.

“shameful!” exclaims some philanthropist.

true, but who is to take home the shame? not the officers of the company, who cannot do more than their best with the materials laid to their hands; not the directors, who cannot create profits beyond the capacity of their line—although justice requires us to admit that they might reduce expenses, by squabbling less with other companies, and ceasing unfair, because ruinous as well as ungenerous, competition. clearly the bulk of the shame lies with the shareholders, who encourage opposition for the sake of increasing their own dividends at the expense of their neighbours, and who insist on economy in directions which render the line inefficient—to the endangering of their own lives as well as those of the public. economy in the matter of railway servants—in other words, their reduction in numbers—necessitates increase of working hours, which, beyond a certain point, implies inefficiency and danger. but the general public are not free from a modicum of this shame, and have to thank themselves if they are maimed and killed, because they descend on railways for compensation with a ruthless hand; (shame to government here, for allowing it!) and still further, impoverish their already over-taxed coffers. compensation for injury is just, but compensation as it is, and has been claimed and awarded, is ridiculously unfair, as well as outrageously unwise.

fortunately sam natly’s wicked resolve to indulge in undutiful slumber did not result in evil on this occasion, although it did result in something rather surprising. it might have been far otherwise had sam been a pointsman!

in order to enjoy fully the half-hour which he meant to snatch from duty, sam entered a first-class carriage which stood on a siding, and, creeping under a seat, laid himself out at full length, pillowing his head on his arm. tired men don’t require feather-beds. he was sound asleep in two minutes. it so happened that, three-quarters of an hour afterwards, an extra first-class carriage was wanted to add to the train which john marrot was to “horse” on its arrival at clatterby. the carriage in which sam lay was selected for the purpose, drawn out, and attached to the train. tired men are not easily awakened. sam knew nothing of this change in his sleeping apartment.

meanwhile clatterby station became alive with travellers. the train drew up to the platform. some passengers got out; others got in. the engine which brought it there, being in need of rest, coal, and water, moved off to the shed. john marrot with his lieutenant, garvie, moved to the front on his iron horse, looking as calm and sedate in his conscious power as his horse looked heavy and unyielding in its stolidity. never did two creatures more thoroughly belie themselves by their looks. the latent power of the iron horse could have shot it forth like an arrow from a bow, or have blown the whole station to atoms. the smouldering fires in john’s manly breast could have raised him from a begrimed, somewhat sluggish, driver to a brilliant hero.

some of the characters who have already been introduced at clatterby station were there on this occasion also. mr sharp was there, looking meditative as usual, and sauntering as though he had nothing particular to do. our tall superlative fop with the sleepy eyes and long whiskers was also there with his friend of the checked trousers. mr sharp felt a strong desire to pommel these fops, because he had found them very difficult to deal with in regard to compensation, the fop with the checked trousers having claimed, and finally obtained, an unreasonably large sum for the trifling injury done to his eye on the occasion of the accident at langrye station. mr sharp could not however, gratify his desire. on the contrary, when the checked trousers remarked in passing that it was “vewy disagweeable weather,” he felt constrained to admit, civilly enough, that it was.

the two fops had a friend with them who was not a fop, but a plain, practical-looking man, with a forbidding countenance, and a large, tall, powerful frame. these three retired a little apart from the bustle of the station, and whispered together in earnest tones. their names were the reverse of romantic, for the fop with the checked trousers was addressed as smith, he with the long whiskers as jenkins, and the large man as thomson.

“are you sure he is to go by this train?” asked thomson, somewhat gruffly.

“quite sure. there can be no mistake about it,” replied jenkins, from whose speech, strange to say, the lisp and drawl had suddenly disappeared.

“and how are you sure of knowing him, if, as you say, you have never seen him?” asked thomson.

“by the bag, of course,” answered smith, whose drawl had also disappeared unaccountably; “we have got a minute description of the money-bag which he has had made peculiarly commonplace and shabby on purpose. it is black leather but very strong, with an unusually thick flat handle.”

“he’s very late,” observed thomson, moving uneasily, and glancing at the clock as the moment of departure drew near.

mr sharp observed the consulting party, and sauntered idly towards them, but they were about as sharp as himself, in practice if not in name. the lisps and drawls returned as if by magic, and the turf became the subject of interest about which they were consulting.

just then a shriek was heard to issue from a female throat, and a stout elderly woman was observed in the act of dashing wildly across the line in the midst of moving engines, trucks and vans. even in these unwonted circumstances no one who knew her could have mistaken mrs durby’s ponderous person for a moment. she had come upon the station at the wrong side, and, in defiance of all printed regulations to the contrary—none of which she could read, being short-sighted—she had made a bold venture to gain her desired position by the most direct route. this involved crossing a part of the line where there were several sidings and branch lines, on which a good deal of pushing of trucks and carriages to and fro—that is “shunting”—was going on.

like a reckless warrior, who by a bold and sudden push sometimes gains single-handed the centre of an enemy’s position before he is discovered and assailed on every side, straight forward mrs durby ran into the very midst of a brisk traffic, before any one discovered her. suddenly a passenger-train came up with the usual caution in such circumstances, nevertheless at a smart rattling pace, for “usual caution” does not take into account or provide for the apparition of stout elderly females on the line. the driver of the passenger engine saw her, shut off steam, shouted, applied the brakes and whistled furiously.

we have already hinted that the weather was not fine. mrs durby’s umbrella being up, hid the approaching train. as for screaming steam-whistles, the worthy woman had come to regard intermittent whistling as a normal condition of railways, which, like the crying of cross babies, meant little or nothing, and had only to be endured. she paid no attention to the alarm. in despair the driver reversed his engine; fire flew from the wheels, and the engine was brought to a stand, but not until the buffers were within three feet of the nurse’s shoulder. at that moment she became aware of her danger, uttered a shriek, as we have said, that would have done credit to the whistle of a small engine, and, bending her head with her umbrella before her, rushed frantically away on another line of rails. she did not observe, poor soul, that a goods train was coming straight down that line towards her,—partly because her mental vision was turned in terror to the rear, and partly because the umbrella obscured all in advance. in vain the driver of the goods engine repeated the warnings and actions of the passenger engine. his had more speed on and was heavier; besides, mrs durby charged it at the rate of full five miles an hour, with the umbrella steadily in front, and a brown paper parcel swinging wildly on her arm, as if her sole desire on earth was to meet that goods engine in single combat and beat out its brains at the first blow. certain it is that mrs durby’s career would have been cut short then and there, if tall joe turner, the guard, had not been standing at the tail of his own train and observed her danger. in the twinkling of an eye he dropped his slow dignified air, leaped like a panther in front of the goods engine, caught mrs durby with both hands—any how—and hurled her and himself off the line,—not a moment too soon, for the buffer of the engine touched his shoulder as they fell together to the ground.

a lusty cheer was given by those on the platform who witnessed this bold rescue, and more than one sympathetic hand grasped the massive fist of joe turner as he assisted mrs durby to a carriage.

“why,” exclaimed will garvie, hurrying forward at that moment, “it’s mrs durby, the woman we promised to take care of! you’ll look after her, joe?”

“all right,” said the guard, as will hurried back to his engine; “this way, ma’am. got your ticket?”

“n–no!” gasped the poor nurse, leaning heavily on her protector’s arm.

“here, dick,” cried joe, hailing a porter, “run to the booking-office and get her a ticket for london, first-class; she’s got a bad shake, poor thing. no doubt the company will stand the difference; if not, we’ll make it up amongst us.”

hereupon a benevolent old gentleman drew out his purse, and insisted on paying the whole of the fare himself, a point which no one seemed inclined to dispute, and mrs durby was carefully placed by joe in a carriage by herself.

there were two gentlemen—also known to the reader—who arrived just in time to witness this incident: the one was captain lee, the other edwin gurwood. they both carried bags and rugs, and were evidently going by that train. the captain, who happened to have a bad cold at the time, was muffled up to the eyes in a white worsted comforter, and had a fur travelling-cap pulled well down on his forehead, so that little of him, save the point of his nose, was visible.

the moment that the two fops caught sight of captain lee, they whispered to thomson—

“that’s our man.”

“sure?” demanded thomson.

“quite,” replied smith. “that’s about the size and make of the man as described to me. of course they could not tell what sort of travelling gear he would appear in, but there’s no mistaking the bag—old, stout leather, with flat handle-strap.”

“all right,” said thomson; “but who’s the young fellow with him?”

“don’t know,” replied smith; “yet i think i’ve seen his face before. stay, jenkins, wasn’t he in the accident at langrye station?”

“perhaps he was; but it’s of no consequence to us.”

“it will be of consequence to us if he goes with the old gentleman,” retorted smith, “for he’s a stout fellow, and wouldn’t be easy to manage.”

“i’ll manage him, no fear,” said thomson, looking at the unconscious edwin with a dark sinister smile.

“what if they get into a carriage that’s already nearly full?” suggested the dubious smith.

“they won’t do that,” replied jenkins with a laugh. “it seems to be against the laws of human nature to do that. as long as there are empty carriages in a train, so long will men and women pass every carriage that has a soul in it, until they find an empty one for themselves. we have nothing to do but follow them, and, when they have pitched on a carriage, get in after them, and fill it up, so we shall have it all to ourselves.”

“come along, then; it’s time to stop talking and to act,” said thomson, testily, as he moved towards the carriages.

that even the wisest of men (in his own conceit) may make mistakes now and then is a fact which was beautifully illustrated on this occasion. we may here let the reader into the secret of jenkins, smith, and thomson. they were men who lived by their wits. they had ascertained that a partner of a certain house that dealt in jewellery meant to return to london by that particular train, with a quantity of valuables that were worth running some risk for. on the journey there was one stoppage quite close to london. the run immediately before that was a clear one of seventy-five miles without a halt, at full express speed, which would afford them ample opportunity for their purpose, while the slowing of the train on approaching the stopping place would give them opportunity and time to leap out and make off with their booty. they had been told that their intended victim was a stout resolute man, but that would avail nothing against numbers.

having obtained all requisite information they had proceeded thus far with their villainous design, apparently with success. but at this point a hitch occurred, though they knew it not. they had not taken sufficiently into account the fact that black leather bags may be both stout and peculiar, and in some degree similar without being identical. hence smith and jenkins in their self-confidence had settled, as we have seen, that captain lee was “their man,” whereas their man was comfortably seated in another carriage, and by his side the coveted bag, which was similar in some points to that of the captain, but different in size and in several small details.

following the wrong scent, therefore, with wonted pertinacity, the three men sauntered behind captain lee and edwin, who, true to the “laws” with which jenkins had credited human nature, passed one carriage after another until they found an empty one.

“here is one, gurwood,” said the captain.

he was about to step into it, when he observed mrs durby sitting in the next compartment.

“hallo! nurse,” he exclaimed, getting in and sitting down opposite to her; “why, surely it wasn’t you, was it, that had such a narrow escape?”

“indeed it was, capting lee,” replied mrs durby in a half whimper, for albeit a woman of strong character, she was not proof against such rough treatment as she had experienced that day.

“not hurt, i trust?” asked the captain sympathetically.

“oh dear no, sir; only shook a bit.”

“are you alone?” asked edwin, seating himself beside his friend.

“yes, sir; but la, sir, i don’t think nothink of travellin’ alone. i’m used to it, sir.”

as she said this the guard’s voice was heard desiring passengers to take their seats, and the three men, who had grouped themselves close round the door, thus diverging one or two passengers into the next compartment, entered, and sat down.

at the same moment mr sharp’s earnest countenance appeared at the window. he made a few remarks to captain lee and edwin gurwood, and took occasion to regard the three adventurers with much attention. they evidently understood him, for they received his glances with bland smiles.

it was quite touching to note mr sharp’s anxiety to lay hold of these men. he chanced to know nothing about them, save in connexion with the langrye accident, but his long experience in business had given him a delicate power of perception in judging of character, which was not often at fault. he, as it were, smelt the presence of fair game, although he could not manage to lay immediate hold of it, just as that celebrated giant did, who, once upon a time, went about his castle giving utterance to well-known words—

“fee, fo, fa, fum, i smell the smell of an englishman.”

“joe,” he whispered, as the guard came up to lock the door, “just keep an eye on these three fellows, will you? i’d lay my life on it that they’re up to mischief to-day.”

joe looked knowing, and nodded.

“show your tickets, please,” he said, touching his cap to his director and edwin.

the tickets were produced—all right. mrs durby, in getting out hers, although, of course, having got it for her, joe did not require to see it, dropped her precious brown paper parcel. picking it up again hastily she pressed it to her bosom with such evident anxiety, that men much less sharp-witted than our trio, would have been led to suspect that it contained something valuable. but they aimed at higher booty just then, and apparently did not notice the incident.

a rapid banging of doors had now set in—a sure precursor of the starting whistle. before it was quite completed, the inevitable late passenger appeared in the distance. this time it was a lady, middle-aged and stout, and short of wind, but with an iron will, as was clearly evinced by the energy with which she raced along the platform, carrying a large bundle of shawls in one arm, and a travelling-bag in the other, which she waved continuously as she shouted, “stop! stop! stop the trai–i–i–in! i’m coming!”

the guard, with the whistle already half-way to his lips, paused and glanced at his watch. there was a fraction of a moment left. he stepped to a carriage and threw open a door.

“make haste, ma’am; make haste, please,” was said in urgent, though respectful tones.

the late passenger plunged in—she might, as far as appearances went, be said to have taken a header into the carriage—and the door was shut.

the guard’s whistle sounded. the engine-driver’s whistle gave prompt reply, and next instant the train moved. no one could conceive of such a thing as a train starting when john marrot drove!

as the carriages glided by, mr sharp cast a passing glance on the late passenger. he observed that her bundle of shawls moved of its own accord, and, for one whole minute after the train had left, he stood motionless, meditating on that curious phenomenon. he had often heard of table-turning, but never until now had he seen inanimate matter move of its own accord. can we feel surprised that he was both astonished and perplexed? proceeding to the booking-office he held a brief conversation with the clerks there; then he sauntered into the telegraph-office and delivered a message, after which he left the station with a quiet smile on his sedate countenance.