Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-09-22
With Whom Death Travels at the Rate of a
Mile Minute.
AN EXPERIENCE TO BE REMEMBERED
rwa1rrrN roR THE DISPATCH, :,


formation through the Office window in the
waiting room are to the passengers all part
and parcel OF the everyday features of rail-
road travel But the engineer, the man
with the soiled jumper and oil besmeared
overalls. whose walk, as we catch occasional
glimpses Of him, partakes much of the roll
ing gait of the sailor, and on whose face
care sits, and whose hair is SO often streaked
with gray, who thinks of him or the lite he
leads? A life about which death in a
hundred horrid shapes ever hovers, of hard
ship, of unceasing vigilance would he pre-
serve it moment, a life in whose dreams
even is the fierce Kissing of steam and the
roar and thunder of the train, life as ex-
citing and daring as one can imagine and
above all one on whom our own and the
lives of those dear to US often depends.
To understand just what it is to drive
locomotive the best way is to take seat in
the cab for run o. go or 100 miles. Sup
posing that this Is decided upon, and armed
with the necessary authority in the shape OF
a permit from the Superintendent or other
proper official, you enter the station, pass
through the gates and along the platform to
where number 978, or something equally
high, stands kissing and quivering with
irdpatience as she Gan engine is always she,
| it should be remembered } waits the signal
|
express westward bound.
THE ENGINEER.
| Standing beside his machine, oil can in
hand, is the engineer, man past middle
| life, tail and strong as he should be. with a
grave, though kindly face, and ewes that
| have twinkle in them as he regards you,
half suspecting your errand. A glance at
the pass followed by an ''all right, sir, just
climb aboard, and you are upon the loot
board of 978. Accept the seat proffered you
by the fireman on the left side of the cab,
and straightway fall to staring about with
no little wonder at the, to you, bewildering
array of valves, pipes, wheels and gauges to
which your eyes are attracted. From them
your attention wanders back along the
train, where beneath the CLEAN of
the electric lights, all is hustle;
baggage, mail and express matter
tumbliIlg into their respective cars with
bump and bang, trucks 'rattling along the
platform, passengers taking their places,
some quietly and in order, others swarming
in and out like lot of overgrown bees
about hive. The noises of the streets are
somewhat hushed at this hour, but in their
place you hear the switch engines as they 60
painting up and down, making up trains or
taking away those that have recently come
II.
mer and the steady throb of the air pumy,
forcing air into the brake reservoir, mingled
with the
"What was that?"
You half jump from your saet as, with
whizz and a roar, something seems to nave
let go above you. Is the boiler about to
burst? No; for the engineer, who is lean
ing from his window watching for the sig
nal to start, turns and looks at you with
smile OF amusement, while the fireman
laughs outright as he explains that it is
only the blowing off of the safety-yalve. A
comparison of watches and few words be-
tween the engineer and conductor, who has
come bustling up for that purpose,
and then bustles away again. You
look at your own watch-745-time is up.
Ting speaks the sharp, little tongue of the
gong in the roof of the cab in response to
the conductors jerk of the bell-cord.
Clang, clang goes the big bell on the top of
the boiler, kissing of condensed steam
from the cylinders, and 97S, with |
her train of vestibuled sleepers, glides |
slowly out of the station. Slowly at first,
across Liberty street, to and over the bridge,
below which the river reflects back the |
myriad lights of the great cities on either |
shore, on through the Allegheny yards to
the Federal street station, where there is |
short stop.
THE TRIP BEGINS.
Again the throttle valve is opened and the |
trip has, you feel, begun in earnest. No. 97S |
begins to wake up, and snorts fercely at the |
heavy train as she steadily but rapidly in |
creases her speed. You look ahead now,
fxedly ahead; like those of the engineer |
and the fireman beside you, your ewes are |
directed straight along the shining rails of |
the track OF which the headlight illumines
so little, you think, and beyond which it
would be dark enough were it not for the
houses and stores yet about, and the
splendid torchlight procession that
seems hurrying up from the front,
a procession of switch and signal lights,
red, green, white, thousands of them, be-
fore you through the crowded railroad wards
they stretch away, or like gorgeous fire flies
flash past as one by one they are overtaken
and left behind; everyone with meaning,
each with its story, short and curtly told,
but speaking volumes Tor the safety of those
seeking slumber in their berths as thought
less of danger as if in their beds at home.
Chunk, clank, clank 60 the switch points
beneath the ponderous wheels. Zipl crash!
the long lines of freight cars on the sidings
hustle by with a roar. A hiss and glare
of light-that was another engine. The
wind rushes past the cab window, while the
baggage car just back Of the tender begins
to swing and bob about m way that makes
you wonder that it does not leave the track.
No. 978 Is showing you what she can do.
Clear of the parks, now a little more and
the last street crossings are behind and the
city has vanished like dream. Faster and