The Dallas weekly herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1885, 1875-05-15
For the Dallas Herald.
As AN AMATEUR ENGINE DRIVER
4 STRANGE STORY.
BY j. n. BARTHOLOW.

1t was wild aud wet night in the
month of November, of the year ls6-.
The night express on the k p
was delayed two hours by detention
on the Nj p, II bleak attack OF
which would take place with saddening
regularity about every forty-elght
hours.
Standing under the projecting caves
of the depot building, | could hear the
war of the swelling waters OF the x
river, and the barbaric music of the
north wind, as it swept up the valley,
and thought what an inspiration it
would be to take a thirty-mile an hour
ride through the demon frenzy of such
a storm.
| was to be gratified sooner than |
expected and in a manner somewhat
novel.
While admiring the engine from my
covert, atlame with its furnace fire and
throbbing with its mighty pulse OF
steam, very epic in iron, and tattoo
ing a ba tinad0 with my heels from an
! impulse of impatience to see the beauty
"get up and dust" if there was any
dust to be raised in such night, some
one from behind tapped me nervously
upon the shoulder, and turning, met
the face of the superintendent. i
| thought at first that his countenance
expressed perpleXity and annoyance,
but it almost instantly changed to IL
half-hopeful smile, as though after one
has been severely puzzled, he had sud-
denly and unexpectedly discovered Il
solution.
As if by intuition instantly divined
what was wanted. Habitual riding as
a pastime on the engines of this road
had famliarized me with the manner
of running them. Often in days of
gloom and days of summer sweetness,
through nights of tempest and nights
of Arcadian brightness, l had held the
throttle with all the enlpreSsntem of Il
veteran engineer, and with romantic
enthusiasm which l imagined one
could only feel when thoroughly under
the spell of enchantment
"D- is sick, and can't report to-
night,n said the superintendent, ad-
dressing me. "rhere comes the NJ
P express, and somebody must be
ready to take out this train at once.
Get aboard and run her to L. in
forty minutes!"
TO l. in forty minutes! And
forty miles of more curves than any
road of corresponding distance on the
continent But l made no protest. l
answered by springing with one bound
from the platform into the cab, and
shouting to the stoker: "Billy, here's
to L. or hell in forty minutes "
only remember Billy's fear-stricken
face, as | saw it by the uncertain
glimmer of the guage lamp, then at
the regulation sign from the conductor,
gave two blasts of the whistle, and
"threw her wide OPEN" Did she go?
/ should say, my covey, she did, if ever
engine with her size of driver wheels,
one hundred and ninety pounds of
steam, and orders to go forty miles in
forty minutes, did go!
But there! Great God! A danger
signal Billy attempts to spring to the
| tender-brake. l hold him back with a
strength scarcely thought possessed,
while L yell in his ear: TOO late ~
Then we dashed off into the black sep
ulchral nightt
Strange as it may seem, the instant
saw the danger signal something
whispered to me that the cause was not
,Cithout, but lUithin, and obeying the
monitor, / thundered on. SO there
| could have been nc want of agreement
/ in my thoughts as stood at my post
| i'm that never-to-be-f forgotten night,
and thought of the living freight of
humanity behind me, of man, woman
and child trusting their lives in my
hand of anxious eyes afar OIL, and OF
prayerful watchers beside vacant
hearthstones waiting for the loved that
might never come again; and God
helping me, no miscalculation of the
eve, no unsteadiness of hand, no want
of nerve should place against my soul
the awful charge of murder 6y rda!
never, but for moment, If it could
have been that long, took my eyes
from the iron pathway before me.
Then saw the mad rout of the clouds,
the great oaks in their giant wrestle
with the mighty wind that seemed to
debase their very tops to the earth, the
flashing, bounding, destroying waters,
and felt through every sentient parti-
Gle of my being that it was simply
mocking at death, defiance of heaven
itself, 10 drive on my speed through
the ruin of such storm-blasted night.
This would have been a judicious
enough reflection at the other end of
the line, when i was meditating what
supreme fun it would be to boss the
speed of any engine at a daredevil
rate up the valley; now it was only a
mile to L, and this untimely
thought was all at once intruded upon
by remembering that the cylinder
valves needed oiling. ''Oil the valves"
1 cried to Billy, without turning my
eyes from the lookout. No hand
reached for the oil-can, which stood on
the rest at my elbow. Louder, then,
again, "Biily, oil the valves p' Still
there was no obeying. The can was
not moved. i shot a sharp glance
around me, and-I Doa- alone, My