Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-01-20
ing white-hot mouth of the furnace.

dredth time glanced at the pointer to see
| 1t fixed at the $50 point and was contented
A Mountain Climb.
There is nothing exciting, 30 far as speed
| Is concerned, about a mountain climb on a
| locomotive. On the other hand, I am con-
WINGED that there can be few scenes Of
more thrilling beauty than were the color
studies shown on that very early Christ
mas morning. The mountains close at
hand were black or brown or gray. accord
Ing as the moon concealed or revealed her.
SELF The foot hills-now showing them
selves to the right and then. lodging be-
hind our train. to look up at us from the
left-were Away blue. but with a gauze Of
gray deity laid across their charms. The
sky was vast continent Of blue, showing
upon Its surface great ranges Of heecy
mountains with wonderful perspective eff
fects ever changing and always new, be-
stars and in the moonlight. New plowed
fields and old, old turnpikes lighted to the
last degree seemed changed into pretty
shining lakes and winding streams Of
water. Down the hill sides came solid pha-
lanxes of blue-black forests-on their way
to join other foliaged hosts who filled the
sagg1ng gaps away over against the hOri-
ION. The farm houses and barns seemed
matched with wisps of silver light, and re-
membering that 1t was Christmas morning,
I was prepared to see at any turn our
jolly-faced old Santa Claus and his weird
roadsters waving cordial good morning
to us as we met
Hard Work.
Just then, however, 1 heard the engineer
soliloquizing: IF she hangs on a hundred
yards further we'll make 1t. and 1 guess
she will" Then appreciated the fact that
our speed was greatly lessened. while the
heavy paintings of the two locomotives told
that the work was hard one. Then I saw
tiny white flame away up ahead of us
where our track merged into a single line
Of light and next l noticed that our gauge
still showed $50 pounds Of steam, and that
the face of our fireman was covered with
Precipitation.
But our team was ''stayer" and, as the
engineer predicted ''she hung on" We
OF US was wall of rock a hundred feet
high, with a little black spot at its base
Shut went the windows of our cab and the
next instant we plunged into a universe of
darkness. We were in the tunnel which ex-
tends a distance of seven-eighths of a mile
under the summit of the Blue Ridge /
neard voice saying. Our blowers of, but
you can wager those chaps in 12S are
breathing hard!' I couldn't hear the voice
with half the distinctness I could feel the
pitchy blackness and so felt pity for those
who were in the cab just back of ours,
1t wasn't for long. however because pres
entity, like being plunged headlong through
the vampire trap at the pantomime our
engine ieaped out into the light and we
world! Far across the valley Of the Senan-
doah were the peaks Of the North noun
tain and to the north and south as far as
could be seen, were orchards, fields homes
and villages.
Down Grade.
Here was my opportunity! I was to be
startled, and that's what was there for,
Gladly did I hear the four blasts of the
whistle which called in the fagman at the
rear end of the train-now that the tunnel
had been safely passed-and longingly did
view the miles of down grade between US
and Waynesboro'. Then we stopped for
water. Having finished our errand at the
water tank we started on the race To
Waynesboro'. a wild rush for miles down
ninety-foct grade. The engineer sat with
his left hand on the throttle, and pulling
her open as our bell sounded an answer TO
friendly little toot from the helper. we
We're off.
l noticed that the fireman closed his fur
mace door with a smile as he looked I'D ri
the pointer, and the next instant realized
that we were beginning to fly. The leaning
telegraph poles were more frequent as they
seemed TO straighten up and salute us as
We passed Our bottle-shaped smokestack
nodded this way and that as though recog-
nizing old friends; the cry of the whistle
pathway. great shoulders of rock jutting
out close to the rail fairly opened their
black seams with laughter as they drew
back to let us make the turn; the sleepy
Christmas morning candles binked at us
from cabins on the hilsides and in the val
leys; the villages sent long plumes of pure
white smoke high and straight up from the
chimneys into the clear, cold air. Then,
striking a straight stretch, our thorough
bred trembled and throbbed as she covered
it In breath. The stone indicators Of Gull
verts and cattle guards flashed before our
eyes like flying sheets Of white, the long
Sagging wires of the telegraph hurried
themselves into short and proper pinkings,
and 1t was a race for your life! Could rs
catch us? That seemed to be her aim, and
she had 62-inch drivers against ours, which
were six inches less No, the short legs of
1O6 were nimble. They even challenged the
moon to a test of speed! Afraid? Afraid
Of what? On such track, and on such a
road-bed, neck-and-neck with everything
in sight and all going at their very best
pace? There's no time for fear! Fright is
not the feeling for such a time and place.
How the moon hangs on to that spot at
the upper edge of the window frame; how
Elliott's knob-miles away across the valley
ties at every point in the race; even
the clouds unroll their soft, silvery fieeces
to spin themselves out into long silken rib
bons of white, waving applause for our ef-
forts. Calmly our driver sits with his hand
on the sand-brake, and as We bend our
train around horseshoe until the last car
seems determined to meet us, head on, he
observes: Were doing mile a minute
now
Here it is that the moon and stars. as
though at play, leap madly to the right or
left of our course, always at our throat
latch, never gaining and never losng-as
though a hundred feet through space each
second were mere recreation. 1t is to be a
dead heat l fancy the great globe of
silver rolls itself behind floating bulwark
of snow, changing it to cold gray
promontory of ice, but no, the next in
slant as double around a narrow shelf
of rock she reappears in sea Of perfect
blue, royalty resting in the center of a bed
of gray, purple and gold-a dazzling halo
of colors blended into a crown Of glory.
Why should she mock with her affiu-
ence? The race Is not yet ended and just
just here little white light beckons at us
far away down the track. 1t leaps up at
us and we draw a breath or two inside a
world Of blackness. Then, with bound,
we clear the tunnel and are in the light
again, to cover, in a flash, the length of
twenty-car freight train as 1t stands on the
siding in wait for the glimpse which proves
our safety.
We do not halt. The peaks to our right
tannery, just below us, and by the side of
though to stop our flight. Then they are
to our left and finally as they race around
to our rear we dart through another eye
in the mountains-an eye that winked at
us suggestively and sent us toward the
brink of bluff that limited at eternity. 1t
was a bluff, however, in another sense for,
ke nOp6ernuSly moving niece N