Many other operations did the visitors behold in this department—all more or less interesting and, to them, surprising—so that Mrs Marrot was induced at last to exclaim—

"W'y, Willum, it seems to me that if you go on improvin' things at this rate there won't be no use in a short time for 'uman 'ands at all. We'll just 'ave to sit still an' let machinery do our work for us, an' all the trades-people will be throwd out of employment."

"How can you say that, Missis," said Will Garvie, "you bein' old enough to remember the time w'en there wasn't five joiners' shops in Clatterby, with p'rhaps fifty men and boys employed, and now there's hundreds of joiners, and other shops of all kinds in the town, besides these here railway works which, as you know, keeps about 3500 hands goin' all the year round?"

"That's so, Willum," assented Mrs Marrot in a meditative tone.

Thus meditating, she was conducted into the smiths' department.

Here about 140 forges and 400 men were at work. Any one of these forges would have been a respectable "smiddy" in a country village. They stood as close to each other as the space would allow,—so close that their showers of sparks intermingled, and kept the whole shed more or less in the condition of a chronic eruption of fireworks. To Bob's young mind it conveyed the idea of a perpetual keeping of the Queen's birthday. To his mother it was suggestive of singed garments and sudden loss of sight. The poor woman was much distressed in this department at first, but when she found, after five minutes or so, that her garments were unscathed, and her sight still unimpaired, she became reconciled to it.

In this place of busy vulcans—each of whom was the beau-ideal of "the village blacksmith," all the smaller work of the railway was done. As a specimen of this smaller work, Will Garvie drew Mrs Marrot's attention to the fact that two vulcans were engaged in twisting red-hot iron bolts an inch and a half thick into the form of hooks with as much apparent ease as if they had been hair-pins. These, he said, were hooks for couplings, the hooks by which railway carriages were attached together, and on the strength and unyielding rigidity of which the lives of hundreds of travellers might depend.

The bending of them was accomplished by means of a powerful lever. It would be an endless business to detail all that was done in this workshop. Every piece of comparatively small iron-work used in the construction of railway engines, carriages, vans, and trucks, from a door-hinge to a coupling-chain, was forged in that smithy. Passing onward, they came to a workshop where iron castings of all kinds were being made; cylinders, fire-boxes, etcetera,—and a savage-looking place it was, with numerous holes and pits of various shapes and depths in the black earthy floor, which were the moulds ready, or in preparation, for the reception of the molten metal. Still farther on they passed through a workroom where every species of brass-work was being made. And here Bob Marrot was amazed to find that the workmen turned brass on turning-lathes with as much facility as if it had been wood. Some of the pieces of brazen mechanism were very beautiful and delicate— especially one piece, a stop-cock for letting water into a boiler, the various and complex parts of which, when contrasted with the huge workmanship of the other departments, resembled fine watch-work.

As they passed on, Bob observed a particularly small boy, in whom he involuntarily took a great and sudden interest—he looked so small, so thin, so intelligent, and, withal, so busy.

"Ah, you may well look at him," said Will Garvie, observing Bob's gaze. "That boy is one of the best workers of his age in the shop."

"What is 'e doin'?" inquired Bob.

"He's preparin' nuts for screws," replied Will, "and gets one penny for every hundred. Most boys can do from twelve to fourteen hundred a day, so, you see, they can earn from six to seven shillin's a week; but that little feller—they call him Tomtit Dorkin—earns a good deal more, I believe, and he has much need to, for he has got an old granny to support. That's the work that you are soon to be set to, lad."

"Is it?" said Bob, quite pleased at the notion of being engaged in the same employment with Tomtit; "I'm glad to 'ear it. You see, mother, when you gits to be old an' 'elpless, you'll not need to mind, 'cause I'll support you."

The next place they visited was the great point of attraction to Bob. It was the forge where the heavy work was done, and where the celebrated hammer and terrific pair of scissors performed their stupendous work.

At the time the visitors entered this department the various hammers chanced to be at rest, nevertheless even Mrs Marrot's comparatively ignorant mind was impressed by the colossal size and solidity of the iron engines that surrounded her. The roof of the shed in which they stood had been made unusually high in order to contain them.

"Well, I s'pose the big 'ammer that Bob says is as 'eavy as five carts of coals must be 'ereabouts?" observed Mrs Marrot looking round.

"Yes, there it is," said Will, pointing in front of him.

"W'ere? I don't see no 'ammer."

"Why there, that big thing just before you," he said, pointing to a machine of iron, shaped something like the letter V turned upside down, with its two limbs on the earth, its stem lost in the obscurity of the root and having a sort of tongue between the two limbs, which tongue was a great square block of solid iron, apparently about five feet high and about three feet broad and deep. This tongue, Will Garvie assured his companion, was the hammer.

"No, no, Willum," said Mrs Marrot, with a smile, "you mustn't expect me for to believe that. I may believe that the moon is made of green cheese, but I won't believe that that's a 'ammer."

"No: but is it, Bill?" asked Bob, whose eyes gleamed with suppressed excitement.

"Indeed it is; you shall see presently."

Several stalwart workmen, with bare brawny arms, who were lounging before the closed mouth of a furnace, regarded the visitors with some amusement. One of these came forward and said—

"You'd better stand a little way back, ma'am."

Mrs Marrot obediently retreated to a safe distance. Then the stalwart men threw open the furnace door. Mrs Marrot exclaimed, almost shrieked, with surprise at the intense light which gushed forth, casting even the modified daylight of the place into the shade. The proceedings of the stalwart men thereafter were in Mrs Marrot's eyes absolutely appalling—almost overpowering,—but Mrs M was tough both in mind and body. She stood her ground. Several of the men seized something inside the furnace with huge pincers, tongs, forceps—whatever you choose to call them—and drew partly out an immense rudely shaped bar or log of glowing irons thicker than a man's thigh. At the same time a great chain was put underneath it, and a crane of huge proportions thereafter sustained the weight of the glowing metal. By means of this crane it was drawn out of the furnace and swung round until its glowing head or end came close to the tongue before mentioned. Then some of the stalwart men grasped several iron handles, which were affixed to the cool end of the bar, and prepared themselves to act. A signal was given to a man who had not hitherto been noticed, he was so small in comparison with the machine on which he stood—perhaps it would be better to say to which he stuck, because he was perched on a little platform about seven or eight feet from the ground, which was reached by an iron ladder, and looked down on the men who manipulated the iron bar below.

On receiving the signal, this man moved a small lever. It cost him no effort whatever, nevertheless it raised the iron tongue about six feet in the air, revealing the fact that it had been resting on another square block of iron embedded in the earth. This latter was the anvil. On the anvil the end of the white-hot bar was immediately laid. Another signal was given, and down came the "five-carts-of-coals weight" with a thud that shook the very earth, caused the bar partially to flatten as if it had been a bit of putty, and sent a brilliant shower of sparks over the whole place. Mrs Marrot clapped both hands on her face, and capped the event with a scream. As for Bob, he fairly shouted with delight.

Blow after blow was given by this engine, and as each blow fell the stalwart men heaved on the iron handles and turned the bar this way and that way, until it was pounded nearly square. By this time Mrs Marrot had recovered so far as to separate her fingers a little, and venture to peep from behind that protecting screen. By degrees the unwieldy mass of misshapen metal was pounded into a cylindrical form, and Will Garvie informed his friends that this was the beginning of the driving-axle of a locomotive. Pointing to several of those which had been already forged, each having two enormous iron projections on it which were afterwards to become the cranks, he said—

"You'll see how these are finished, in another department."

But Mrs Marrot and Bob paid no attention to him. They were fascinated by the doings of the big hammer, and especially by the cool quiet way in which the man with the lever caused it to obey his will. When he moved the lever up or down a little, up or down went the hammer a little; when he moved it a good deal the hammer moved a good deal; when he was gentle, the hammer was gentle; when he gave a violent push, the hammer came down with a crash that shook the whole place. He could cause it to plunge like lightning to within a hair's-breadth of the anvil and check it instantaneously so that it should not touch. He could make it pat the red metal lovingly, or pound it with the violence of a fiend. Indeed, so quick and sympathetic were all the movements of that steam-hammer that it seemed as though it were gifted with intelligence, and were nervously solicitous to act in prompt obedience to its master's will. There were eleven steam-hammers of various sizes in this building, with a staff of 175 men to attend to them, half of which staff worked during the day, and half during the night—besides seven smaller steam-hammers in the smiths' shops and other departments.

With difficulty Will Garvie tore his friends away from the big hammer; but he could not again chain their attention to anything else, until he came to the pair of scissors that cut iron. With this instrument Mrs Marrot at first expressed herself disappointed. It was not like a pair of scissors at all, she said, and in this she was correct, for the square clumsy-looking blunt-like mass of iron, about five feet high and broad, which composed a large portion of it, was indeed very unlike a pair of scissors.

"Why, mother," exclaimed Bob, "you didn't surely expect to see two large holes in it for a giant's thumb and fingers, did you?"

"Well, but," said Mrs Marrot, "it ain't got no blades that I can see."

"I'll let 'ee see 'em, Missis, in a minute," said a workman who came up at that moment with a plate of iron more than a quarter of an inch thick. "Turn it on, Johnny."

A small boy turned on the steam, the machine moved, and Will Garvie pointed out to Mrs Marrot the fact that two sharp edges of steel in a certain part of it crossed each other exactly in the manner of a pair of scissors.

"Well," remarked Mrs M, after contemplating it for some time, "it don't look very like scissors, but I'm free to confess that them two bits of iron do act much in the same way."

"And with the same result, Missus," observed the machine-man, putting the plate between the clippers, which, closing quietly, snipped off about a foot of iron as if it had been paper. There was, however, a crunching sound which indicated great power, and drew from Mrs Marrot an exclamation of surprise not altogether unmingled with alarm.

The man then seized a bit of iron about as thick as his own wrist—full an inch and a half in diameter—which the scissors cut up into lengths of eighteen inches or so as easily as if it had been a bar of lead or wood.

"Didn't I say it could cut through the poker, mother?" cried Bob with a look of triumph.

"The poker, boy! it could cut poker, tongs, shovel, and fender, all at once!" replied Mrs Marrot—"well, I never! can it do anything else?"

In reply to this the man took up several pieces of hard steel, which it snipped through as easily as it had cut the iron.

But if Mrs Marrot's surprise at the scissors was great, not less great was it at the punching machine, which punched little buttons the size of a sixpence out of cold iron full half-an-inch thick. This vicious implement not only punched holes all round boiler-plates so as to permit of their being riveted together, but it cut patterns out of thick iron plates by punching rows of such holes so close to each other that they formed one long cutting, straight or crooked, as might be required. In short, the punching machine acted the part of a saw, and cut the iron plates in any shape that was desired. Here also they saw the testing of engine springs—those springs which to most people appear to have no spring in them whatever—so very powerful are they. One of these was laid on an iron table, with its two ends resting against an iron plate. A man approached and measured it exactly. Then a hydraulic ram was applied; and there was something quite impressive in the easy quiet way, in which the ram shoved a spring, which the weight of a locomotive can scarcely affect, quite flat against the iron plate, and held it there a moment or two! Being released, the spring resumed its proper form. It was then re-measured; found not to have expanded a hair's-breadth, and, therefore,—as Will Garvie took care to explain,— was passed as a sound well-tempered spring; whereat Bob remarked that it would need to be a good-tempered spring, to suffer such treatment without grumbling.

It seemed to Mrs Marrot now as if her capacity for surprise had reached its limit; but she little knew the wealth of capacity for creating surprise that lay in these amazing "works" of the Grand National Trunk Railway.

The next place she was ushered into was a vast apartment where iron in every shape, size, and form was being planed and turned and cut. The ceiling of the building, or rather the place where a ceiling ought in ordinary circumstances to have been, was alive with moving bands and whirling wheels. The first thing she was called on to contemplate was the turning of the tyre or rim of one of the driving-wheels of a locomotive. Often had Mrs Marrot heard her husband talk of tyres and driving-wheels, and many a time had she seen these wheels whirling, half-concealed, in their appropriate places, but never till that day had she seen the iron hoop, eight feet in diameter, elevated in bare simplicity on a turning-lathe, where its size impressed her so much that she declared, "she never could 'ave imagined engine-wheels was so big," and asked, "'ow did they ever manage to get 'em lifted up to w'ere they was?"

To which an overseer kindly replied by pointing out a neat little crane fitted on a tail, which, when required, ran along the apartment like a strong obedient little domestic servant, lifting wheels, etcetera, that a man could scarcely move, and placing them wherever they were wanted. Mrs Marrot was then directed to observe the rim of the wheel, where she saw a small chisel cutting iron curls off it just as easily, to all appearance, as a turner cuts shavings off wood—and these iron curls were not delicate; they were thick, solid, unpliant ringlets, that would have formed a suitable decoration for the fair brow of a locomotive, or, perhaps, a chignon—supposing that any locomotive could have been prevailed on to adopt such a wild monstrosity!

This same species of chisel, applied in different ways, reduced masses of iron in size, planed down flat surfaces, enlarged holes, made cylinders "true" and smooth inside, besides doing a variety of other things.

After seeing the large tyre turned, Mrs Marrot could not be induced to pay much regard to the various carriage and truck wheels which were being treated in a similar manner in that department, but she was induced to open her ears, and her eyes too, when the overseer informed her that the "works" turned out complete no fewer than one hundred and thirty pairs of locomotive, carriage, and waggon wheels a week.

"How many did you say?" she asked.

"A hundred and thirty pair of wheels in the week," repeated the overseer.

"Every week?" asked Mrs Marrot.

"Yes; every week. Sometimes more, sometimes less; but altogether, pretty well on for 6000 pairs of wheels every year."

"W'y, what do you make of 'em all?"

"Oh, we make good use of 'em," replied the overseer, laughing. "We wear them out so fast that it keeps us working at that rate to meet our necessities. But that," he continued, "is only a small part of what we do. We turn out of the works 156 first-class carriages besides many seconds and thirds, and about 1560 trucks every year; besides three engines, new and complete, every fortnight."

"Three noo engines every fortnight!" echoed Mrs Marrot; "how many's that in the year, Bob?"

"Seventy-eight," replied Bob, promptly. Bob was a swift mental calculator, and rather proud of it.

"Where ever do they all go to?" murmured Mrs Marrot.

"Why," replied Will Garvie, "they go to all the stations on the line, of course; some of 'em go to smash at once in cases of accidents, and all of 'em goes to destruction, more or less, in about fifteen or twenty years. We reckon that to be the life of a locomotive. See, there's a drivin' axle, such as you saw forged by the big hammer, being turned now, and cut to shape and size by the same sort of machine that you saw cuttin' the tyres."

They passed on, after looking at the axle for a few minutes, until they came to a part of the building where rails were being forged. This also, although not done by hammer, was a striking process. The place was so hot owing to the quantity of uncooled metal on the floor, that it was not possible to remain long; they therefore took a rapid survey. In one place several men were in the act of conveying to the steam-hammer a mass of shapeless white-hot iron, which had just been plucked from a furnace with a pair of grippers. They put it below the hammer for a few minutes, which soon reduced it to a clumsy bar; then they carried it to a pair of iron rollers driven by steam. The end of the bar being presented to these, it was gripped, dragged in between them, and passed out at the other side, flat and very much lengthened, as well as thinned. Having been further reduced by this process, it was finally passed through a pair of rollers, which gave it shape, and sent it out a complete rail, ready to be laid down on the line.

Here Garvie took occasion to explain that steel rails, although very expensive, were now being extensively used in preference to iron rails, because they lasted much longer. "For instance," he said, "steel costs about 12 pounds a ton and iron only costs about 7 pounds; but then, d'ye see, steel rails will last two years and more, whereas iron rails get wore out, and have to be renewed every six weeks in places where there's much traffic."

"Now, I can't stand no more o' this," said Mrs Marrot, down whose face the perspiration was streaming; "I'm a'most roasted alive, an' don't understand your explanations one bit, Willum, so come along."

"Oh, mother, do hold on a moment," pleaded Bob, whose mechanical soul was in a species of paradise.

"You'd better come, Bob," interposed Garvie, "else we won't have time to see the department where the engines are fitted."

This was sufficient for Bob, who willingly followed.

The fitting shed at that time contained several engines in various stages of advancement. In one place men were engaged in fitting together the iron framework or foundation of a locomotive, with screws, and bolts, and nuts, and rivets. Others were employed near them, on an engine more advanced, in putting on the wheels and placing the boilers and fire-boxes, while another gang were busy covering the boiler of a third engine with a coating of wood and felt, literally for the purpose of keeping it warm, or preventing its heat from escaping. Farther on, three beautiful new engines, that had just been made and stood ready for action, were receiving a few finishing touches from the painters. Fresh, spotless, and glittering, these were to make their debut on the morrow, and commence their comparatively brief career of furious activity—gay things, doomed emphatically to a fast life! Beyond these young creatures lay a number of aged and crippled engines, all more or less disabled and sent there for repair; one to have a burst steam-pipe removed and replaced, another to have a wheel, or a fire-box or a cylinder changed; and one, that looked as if it had recently "run a-muck" against all the other engines on the line, stood sulkily grim in a corner, evidently awaiting its sentence of condemnation,—the usual fate of such engines being to be torn, bored, battered, chiselled, clipt, and otherwise cut to pieces, and cast into the furnaces.

While gazing round this apartment, Mrs Marrot's eyes suddenly became transfixed.

"Wot's the matter now?" demanded Bob, in some alarm.

"I do believe—w'y—there's a locomotive in the air!" said Mrs Marrot in an undertone.

"So it is!" exclaimed Bob.

And, reader, so it was. In that shed they had a crane which rested on a framework overhead, and ran on wheels over the entire shop. It was capable of lifting above fifty tons' weight and as a large locomotive, ponderous though it be, is not much over twenty tons, of course this giant crane made short work of such. When the men have occasion to remove a wheel from the iron horse, not being able to make it lift up its leg, so to speak, to have it taken off, they bring it under the crane, swing it up as a little boy might swing a toy-cart, and operate on it at their leisure.

Mrs Marrot felt an unpleasant sensation on beholding this. As the wife of an engine-driver, she had long felt the deepest respect, almost amounting to reverence, for locomotives, in regard to the weight, speed, and irresistible power of which she had always entertained the most exalted ideas. To see one of the race—and that too, of the largest size—treated in this humiliating fashion was too much for her, she declared that she had seen enough of the "works," and wouldn't on any account remain another minute!

"But you won't go without seein' the carriage and truck department, surely?" said Bob.

"Well, I'll just take a look to please you," said the amiable woman.

Accordingly, to the truck and van department they went, and there Bob, whose mind was sharp as a needle, saw a good many pieces of mechanism, which formerly he had only seen in a transition state, now applied to their ultimate uses. The chiselled, sawn, and drilled planks seen in the first department, were here being fitted and bolted together in the form of trucks, while the uses of many strange pieces of iron, which had puzzled him in the blacksmiths' department, became obvious when fitted to their appropriate woodwork. Here, also, he saw the internal machinery of railway carriages laid bare, especially the position and shape of the springs that give elasticity to the buffers, which, he observed, were just the same in shape as ordinary carriage springs, placed so that the ends of the buffer-rods pressed against them.

But all this afforded no gratification to Mrs Marrot, whose sensitive mind dwelt uneasily on the humiliated locomotive, until she suddenly came on a row of new first-class carriages, where a number of people were employed stuffing cushions.

"Well, I declare," she exclaimed, "if here ain't cushion-stuffing going on! I expect we shall come to coat-and-shift-making for porters and guards, next!"

"No, we haven't got quite that length yet," laughed Will Garvie; "but if you look along you'll see gilding, and glazing, and painting going on, at that first-class carriage. Still farther along, in the direction we're going, is the infirmary."

"The infirmary, Willum!"

"Ay, the place where old and damaged trucks and carriages are sent for repair. They're all in a bad way, you see,—much in need o' the doctor's sar'vices."

This was true. Looking at some of these unfortunates, with crushed-in planks, twisted buffers and general dismemberment, it seemed a wonder that they had been able to perform their last journey, or crawl to the hospital. Some of the trucks especially might have been almost said to look diseased, they were so dirty, while at the corners, where address cards were wont to be affixed, they appeared to have broken out in a sort of small-pox irruption of iron tackets.

At last Mrs Marrot left the "works," declaring that her brain was "whirling worser than was the wheels and machinery they had just left," while Bob asseverated stoutly that his appetite for the stupendous had only been whetted. In this frame of mind the former went home to nurse her husband, and the latter was handed over to his future master, the locomotive superintendent of the line.

Reader, it is worth your while to visit such works, to learn what can be done by the men whom you are accustomed to see, only while trooping home at meal hours, with dirty garments and begrimed hands and faces—to see the grandeur as well as the delicacy of their operations, while thus labouring amongst din and dust and fire, to provide you with safe and luxurious locomotion. We cannot indeed, introduce you to the particular "works" we have described; but if you would see something similar, hie thee to the works of our great arterial railways,—to those of the London and North-Western, at Crewe; the Great Western, at Swindon; the South-eastern, at Ashford; the Great Northern, at Doncaster; the North British, at Cowlairs; the Caledonian, at Glasgow, or any of the many others that exist throughout the kingdom, for in each and all you will see, with more or less modification, exactly the same amazing sights that were witnessed by worthy Mrs Marrot and her hopeful son Bob, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, when they visited the pre-eminently great Clatterby "works" of the Grand National Trunk Railway.

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Note. The foregoing description is founded on visits paid to the locomotive works of the Great Western, at Swindon, and those of the North British, near Glasgow—to the General Managers and Superintendents of both which railways we are indebted for much valuable information.— R.M. Ballantyne.



CHAPTER NINE.

CONCERNING DOMESTIC ECONOMY AND DIFFICULTIES—SURPRISES AND EXPLANATIONS.

How to "make the two ends meet," is a question that has engaged the attention and taxed the brains of hundreds and thousands of human beings from time immemorial, and which will doubtless afford them free scope for exercise to the end of time.

This condition of things would appear to arise from a misconception on the part of those who are thus exercised as to the necessities of life. They seem to imagine, as a rule, that if their income should happen to be, say three hundred pounds a year, it is absolutely impossible by any effort of ingenuity for them to live on less than two hundred and ninety-nine pounds nineteen shillings and eleven-pence three farthing. They therefore attempt to regulate their expenditure accordingly, and rather plume themselves than otherwise on the fact that they are firmly resolved to save and lay bye the farthing. They fail in this attempt as a matter of course, and hence the difficulty of making the two ends meet. If these unfortunates had been bred to the profession of engineering or "contracting," they would have known that it is what we may style a law of human nature to under-estimate probable expenses. So thoroughly is this understood by the men of the professions above referred to, that, after they have formed an estimate,—set down every imaginable expense, and racked their brains in order to make sure that they have provided for every conceivable and inconceivable item, they coolly add to the amount a pretty large sum as a "margin" to cover unexpected and unthought-of contingencies. But anything of this sort never seems to enter into the calculations of the people who are so much tormented with those obstinate "two ends" that won't meet. There is one sure and easy mode of escape for them, but they invariably hold that mode to be ridiculous, until in dire extremity they are forced to adopt it. This is simply to make one's calculations for living considerably within one's income!

We make no apology for going into the minutiae of this remarkable phase of human existence, because it is necessary, in order to the correct appreciation of the circumstances and feelings of good little Mrs Tipps, when, several weeks after the accident described in a previous chapter, she sat down in her little parlour to reconsider the subject of her annual expenditure.

Netta sat beside her looking somewhat pale, for she had not quite recovered from the effects of her recent illness.

"My darling," said Mrs Tipps, "how can you charge me with having made an error somewhere? Have I not got it all down here on black and white, as your dear father used to say? This is the identical paper on which I made my calculations last year, and I have gone over them all and found them perfectly correct. Look there."

Mrs Tipps held up in triumph, as if it were an incontestable evidence of the rectitude of her calculations, a sheet of note-paper so blotted and bespattered with figures, that it would have depressed the heart even of an accountant, because, besides the strong probability that it was intrinsically wrong, it was altogether illegible.

"Dear mamma," remonstrated Netta, with a twinkle of her eye, "I do not call in question the correctness of your calculations, but I suggest that there may perhaps be an error of some sort somewhere. At all events the result would seem to indicate—to imply—that—that everything was not quite right, you know."

"Quite true, darling," replied Mrs Tipps, who was a candid though obtuse soul; "the result is unsatisfactory, eminently so; yet I cannot charge myself with careless omissions. See—here it is; on one side are my receipts. Your dear father always impressed it so earnestly on me that I should keep the receipts of money on one side of the accounts, and the payments on the other. I never could remember, by the way, on which side to put the receipts, and on which the payments, until he hit on the idea of making me contradict myself, and then I should be sure to keep right. He used to say (how well I remember it), 'Now, darling, this is the way: Whenever you receive a sum of money to enter in your cash-book, always say to yourself, What side shall I put it on? If your mind suggests on the right, at once say No—because that would be wrong—right being wrong in this case,' and he did use to laugh so over that little pleasantry."

Mrs Tipps' gravity deepened as she recalled these interesting lessons in book-keeping.

"Yes," she continued, with a sigh, "and then he would go on to say, that 'if it was wrong to go to the right, of course it must be right to go the other way.' At first I used to be a good deal puzzled, and said, 'But suppose my mind, when I receive a sum of money, should suggest putting it on the left, am I to contradict myself then?' 'Oh no!' he would say, with another laugh, 'in that case you will remember that your mind is to be left alone to carry out its suggestion.' I got to understand it at last, after several years of training, but I never could quite approve of it for it causes so much waste of paper. Just look here!" she said, holding up a little account-book, "here are all the right pages quite filled up, while all the left pages are blank. It takes only four lines to enter my receipts, because you know I receive my money only once a quarter. Well, that brings me back to the point. Here are all the receipts on one side; my whole income, deducting income-tax—which, by the way, I cannot help regarding as a very unjust tax—amounts to two hundred and fifty pounds seventeen shillings and two-pence. Then here you have my paper of calculations—everything set down—rent, taxes, water rates, food, clothing, coals, gas, candles, sundries (sundries, my darling, including such small articles as soap, starch, etcetera); nothing omitted, even the cat's food provided for, the whole mounting to two hundred and forty-five pounds. You see I was so anxious to keep within my income, that I resolved to leave five pounds seventeen shillings and two-pence for contingencies. But how does the case actually stand?" Here poor Mrs Tipps pointed indignantly to her account-book, and to a pile of papers that lay before her, as if they were the guilty cause of all her troubles. "How does it stand? The whole two hundred and fifty pounds seventeen shillings spent—only the two-pence left—and accounts to tradesmen, amounting to fifty pounds, remaining unpaid!"

"And have we nothing left to pay them?" asked Netta, in some anxiety.

"Nothing, my love," replied Mrs Tipps, with a perplexed look, "except," she added, after a moment's thought, "the tuppence!"

The poor lady whimpered as she said this, seeing which Netta burst into tears; whereupon her mother sprang up, scattered the accounts right and left, and blaming herself for having spoken on these disagreeable subjects at all, threw her arms round Netta's neck and hugged her.

"Don't think me foolish, mamma," said Netta, drying her eyes in a moment; "really it almost makes me laugh to think that I should ever come to cry so easily; but you know illness does weaken one so, that sometimes, in spite of myself, I feel inclined to cry. But don't mind me; there, it's past now. Let us resume our business talk."

"Indeed I will not," protested Mrs Tipps.

"Then I will call nurse, and go into the subject with her," said Netta.

"Don't be foolish, dear."

"Well, then, go on with it, mamma. Tell me, now, is there nothing that we could sell?"

"Nothing. To be sure there is my gold watch, but that would not fetch more than a few pounds; and my wedding-ring, which I would sooner die than part with."

Netta glanced, as she spoke, at an unusually superb diamond ring, of Eastern manufacture, which adorned her own delicate hand. It was her father's last gift to her a few days before he died.

"What are you thinking of, darling?" inquired Mrs Tipps.

"Of many things," replied Netta slowly. "It is not easy to tell you exactly what—"

Here she was saved the necessity of further explanation by the entrance of Joseph Tipps, who, after kissing his mother and sister heartily, threw his hat and gloves into a corner, and, rubbing his hands together as he sat down, inquired if Edwin Gurwood had been there.

"No, we have neither seen nor heard of him," said Netta.

"Then you shall have him to luncheon in half-an-hour, or so," said Joseph, consulting his watch. "I got leave of absence to-day, and intend to spend part of my holiday in introducing him to Captain Lee, who has promised to get him a situation in the head office. You've no idea what a fine hearty fellow he is," continued Tipps enthusiastically, "so full of humour and good sense. But what have you been discussing? Not accounts, surely! Why, mother, what's the use of boring your brains with such things? Let me have 'em, I'll go over them for you. What d'you want done? The additions checked, eh?"

On learning that it was not the accounts so much as the discrepancy between the estimate and the actual expenditure that puzzled his mother, Tipps seized her book, and, turning over the leaves, said, "Here, let me see, I'll soon find it out—ah, well, rent yes; taxes, h'm; wine to Mrs Natly, you put that, in your estimate, under the head of food, I suppose?"

"N-no, I think not."

"Under physic, then?"

"No, not under that. I have no head for that."

"What! no head for physic? If you'd said you had no stomach for it I could have understood you; but—well—what did you put it under; sundries, eh?"

"I'm afraid, Joseph, that I have not taken note of that in my extract— your dear father used to call the thing he did with his cash-book at the end of the year an extract—I think I've omitted that."

"Just so," said Tipps, jotting down with a pencil on the back of a letter. "I'll soon account to you for the discrepancy. Here are six bottles of wine to Mrs Natly, the railway porter's wife, at three-and-six—one pound one—not provided for in your estimate. Any more physic, I wonder? H'm, subscription for coals to the poor. Half-a-guinea—no head for charities in your estimate, I suppose?"

"Of course," pleaded Mrs Tipps, "in making an estimate, I was thinking only of my own expenses, you know—not of charities and such-like things; but when poor people come, you know, what is one to do?"

"We'll not discuss that just now, mother. Hallo! 'ten guineas doctor's fee!' Of course you have not that in the estimate, seeing that you did not know Netta was going to be ill. What's this?—'five pounds for twenty wax dolls—naked—(to be dressed by —-)'"

"Really, Joseph, the book is too private to be read aloud," said Mrs Tipps, snatching it out of her son's hand. "These dolls were for a bazaar in aid of the funds of a blind asylum, and I dressed them all myself last winter."

"Well, well, mother," said Tipps, laughing, "I don't want to pry into such secrets; but here, you see, we have seventeen pounds odd of the discrepancy discovered already, and I've no doubt that the remainder could soon be fished up."

"Yes," sighed Mrs Tipps, sadly, "I see it now. As the poet truly says,—'Evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart.' I have been assisting the poor at the expense of my trades-people."

"Mother," exclaimed Tipps, indignantly, "you have been doing nothing of the sort. Don't imagine that I could for a moment insinuate such a thing. You have only made a little mistake in your calculations, and all that you have got to do is to put down a larger sum for contingencies next time. What nonsense you talk about your trades-people! Every one of them shall be paid to the last farthing—"

Here Tipps was interrupted by the entrance of Edwin Gurwood, who at once began with much interest to inquire into the health of Mrs Tipps, and hoped that she had not suffered in any way from her recent accident.

Mrs Tipps replied she was thankful to say that she had not suffered in any way, beyond being a little shaken and dreadfully alarmed.

"But railways have suffered," said Tipps, laughing, "for mother is so strongly set against them now that she would not enter one for a thousand pounds."

"They have suffered in worse ways than that," said Gurwood, "if all that I hear be true, for that accident has produced a number of serious compensation cases."

Hereupon Gurwood and his friend plunged into an animated conversation about railway accidents and their consequences, to the intense interest and horror of Mrs Tipps.

Meanwhile Netta left the room, and went to her old nurse's apartment.

"Nurse," she said, hurriedly, "when did you say you proposed paying your brother in London a visit—about this time, was it not?"

"Yes, dear," said old Mrs Durby, taking off her tortoise-shell spectacles and laying down her work, "I thought of going next week, if it is quite convenient."

"It is quite convenient, nurse," continued Netta, in a somewhat flurried manner; "it would be still more convenient if you could go to-morrow or next day."

"Deary me—what's wrong?" inquired Mrs Durby, in some surprise.

"Listen, I have not time to explain much," said Netta, earnestly, sitting down beside her faithful nurse and putting her hand on her shoulder. "We have got into difficulties, nurse—temporary difficulties, I hope—but they must be got over somehow. Now, I want you to take this diamond ring to London with you—pawn it for as much as you can get, and bring me the money."

"Me pawn it, my dear! I never pawned a thing in my life, and don't know how to go about it."

"But your brother knows how to do it," suggested Netta. "Now, you won't refuse me this favour, dear nurse? I know it is an unpleasant business, but what else can be done? The ring is my own; besides, I hope to be able to redeem it soon. I know no more about pawning than yourself, but I do know that a considerable time must elapse before the ring shall be lost to me. And, you know, our bills must be paid."

Good Mrs Durby did not require much persuasion. She consented to set off as soon as possible, if she should obtain permission from Mrs Tipps, who was aware that she had intended to visit her brother about that time. She received the precious ring, which, for security, was put into a pill-box; this was introduced into an empty match-box, which Netta wrapped in a sheet of note-paper and put Mrs Durby's name on it. For further security Mrs Durby enlarged the parcel by thrusting the match-box into an old slipper, the heel of which she doubled over the toe, and then wrapped the whole in several sheets of brown paper until the parcel assumed somewhat the shape and size of her own head. It was also fastened with strong cords, but Mrs Durby's powers of making a parcel were so poor that she left several uncouth corners and ragged ends of paper sticking out here and there. She wrote on it in pencil the simple name—Durby.

Meanwhile Joseph and his friend, having finished luncheon, prepared to set out on their visit to Captain Lee. As they quitted the house, Tipps ran back to the door and called his sister out of the parlour.

"I say, Netta, what about this fifty pounds that mother was talking of?" he said. "Do you mean to say that you are really short of that sum, and in debt?"

"We are, but I see a way out of the difficulty. Don't distress yourself, Joe; we shall have everything squared up, as you call it in a few days."

"Are you quite sure of that?" asked Tipps, with a doubting look. "You know I have got an uncommonly cheap lodging, and a remarkably economical landlady, who manages so splendidly that I feed on a mere trifle a week. Seventy-five pounds a year, you know, is more than I know what to do with. I can live on thirty-five or so, and the other forty is—"

"We don't require it Joe," said Netta, laughing. "There, go away, you are giving me cold by keeping me in the passage, and your friend is getting impatient."

She pushed him out, nodded, and shut the door. Tipps hastened after his friend, apologised for the delay, and, stepping out smartly, they were soon ushered into Captain Lee's drawing-room. The captain was writing. Emma was seated near the window sewing.

"Ha! Tipps, my fine fellow, glad to see you; why, I was just thinking of you," said the captain, extending his hand.

"I have called," began Tipps, bowing to Emma and shaking the captain's hand, "to introduce my—my—eh!—ah, my—what's the matter?"

There was some reason for these exclamations, for Captain Lee stood gazing in mute amazement at young Gurwood, while the latter returned the compliment with his eyebrows raised to the roots of his hair. The similarity of their expressions did not, however, last long, for Edwin became gradually confused, while the captain grew red and choleric-looking.

"So," said the latter at length, in a very stern voice, "this is your friend, Mr Tipps?"

"Sir," exclaimed Edwin, flushing crimson, "you ought not to condemn any one unheard."

"I do not condemn you, sir," retorted the captain.

"By word, no, but by look and tone and gesture you do."

"Captain Lee," exclaimed Tipps, who had stood perfectly aghast with amazement at this scene, "what do you mean?—surely."

"I mean," said the captain, "that this youth was taken up by one of our own detectives as a thief, some weeks ago, and was found travelling in a first-class carriage without a ticket."

Young Gurwood, who had by this time recovered his self-possession, turned to his friend and said,—"Explain this matter, Tipps, you know all about it. The only point that can puzzle you is, that I did not know the name of Captain Lee when I travelled with him, and therefore did not connect him with the gentleman to whom you said you meant to introduce me."

Tipps drew a long breath.

"Oh," said he, "I see it all now. Why, Captain Lee, my friend is perfectly innocent. It was quite a mistake, I assure you; and the best proof of it is that he is a personal friend of our police superintendent, who was on the spot at the time the accident occurred, but we were all thrown into such confusion at the time, that I don't wonder things were not cleared up."

Tipps hereupon went into a detailed account of the matter as far as he knew it, at first to the surprise and then to the amusement of Captain Lee. Fortunately for Gurwood, who would have found it difficult to explain the circumstance of his travelling without a ticket, the captain was as prompt to acknowledge his erroneous impression as he had been to condemn. Instead of listening to Tipps, he stopped him by suddenly grasping Gurwood's hand, and thanking him heartily for the prompt and able assistance he had rendered in rescuing his daughter from her perilous position on the day of the accident.

Of course Edwin would not admit that "rescue" was the proper term to apply to his action, and refused to admit that Miss Lee was in the slightest degree indebted to him, at the same time assuring her and her father that it had afforded him the highest possible pleasure to have been of the slightest service to them. The end of it was that they all became extremely good friends, and the captain in particular became quite jocular in reference to mistakes in general and stealing in particular, until Tipps, pulling out his watch, declared that procrastination was the thief of time, and that as he happened to have business to transact with the police superintendent in reference to the very accident which had caused them all so much trouble, he must unwillingly bid them adieu.

"Stay, Tipps," exclaimed the captain, rising, "I shall accompany you to the station, and introduce our friend Gurwood to the scene of his future labours, where," continued the captain, turning with a hearty air and patronising smile to Edwin, "I hope you will lay the foundation of a career which will end in a manager's or secretary's situation, or some important post of that sort. Good-bye, Emma I'll not be back till dinner-time."

Emma bowed to the young men, and said good-bye to her father with a smile so ineffably captivating, that Edwin resolved then and there to lay the foundation of a career which would end in a wife with nut-brown hair and large lustrous eyes.

Poor Edwin! He was not the first man whose wayward spirit had been chained, his impulses directed to good ends and aims, and his destiny fixed, by the smile of an innocent, loving, pretty girl. Assuredly, also, he was not the last!



CHAPTER TEN.

SHARP PRACTICE.

Standing with his back to the fireplace, his legs slightly apart, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Mr Sharp, Police Superintendent of the Grand National Trunk Railway, communed with himself and dived into the future.

Mr Sharp's powers of diving were almost miraculous. He had an unusually keen eye for the past and the present, but in regard to the future his powers were all but prophetic. He possessed a rare capacity for following up clues; investigating cases; detecting falsehoods, not only of the lip, but of the eye and complexion; and, in a word, was able to extract golden information out of the most unpromising circumstances. He was also all but ubiquitous. Now tracking a suspicion to its source on his own line in one of the Midland counties; anon comparing notes with a brother superintendent at the terminus of the Great Western, or Great Northern, or South-Eastern in London. Sometimes called away to give evidence in a county court; at other times taking a look in at his own home to kiss his wife or dandle his child before dashing off per express to follow up a clue to John O'Groats or the Land's End. Here, and there, and everywhere—calm, self-possessed, and self-contained, making notes in trains, writing reports in his office, making discoveries and convictions, and sometimes making prisoners with his own hands by night and day, with no fixed hours for work, or rest, or meals, and no certainty in anything concerning him, save in the uncertainty of his movements, Mr Sharp with his myrmidons was the terror of evil doers, and, we may truly add, the safeguard of the public.

Little did that ungrateful public know all it owed to the untiring watchfulness and activity of Mr Sharp and his men. If he and his compeers were to be dismissed from our lines for a single week, the descent of a host of thieves and scoundrels to commit wide-spread plunder would teach the public somewhat severely how much they owe to the efficient management of this department of railway business, and how well, constantly and vigilantly—though unobtrusively—their interests are cared for.

But to return. Mr Sharp, as we have said stood communing with himself and diving into the future. Apparently his thoughts afforded him some amusement, for his eyes twinkled slightly, and there was a faintly humorous twist about the corners of his mouth.

David Blunt sat at a desk near him, writing diligently. Against the wall over his head hung a row of truncheons. Besides the desk, a bench, two or three wooden chairs, and a chest, there was little furniture in the room.

Blunt's busy pen at length ceased to move, and Sharp looked at him.

"Well, Blunt," he said, "I see nothing for it but to make a railway porter of you."

"By all means, sir," said Blunt, with a smile, laying down his pen.

"Gorton station," continued Sharp, "has become a very nest of thieves. It is not creditable that such a state of things should exist for a week on our line. They have managed things very cleverly as yet. Five or six bales of cloth have disappeared in the course of as many days, besides several loaves of sugar and half-a-dozen cheeses. I am pretty sure who the culprits are, but can't manage to bring it home to them, so, as I have said, we must convert you into a porter. You have only been once engaged on this part of the line—that was at the accident when you were so hard on poor Mr Gurwood, so that none of the Gorton people will know you. I have arranged matters with our passenger superintendent. It seems that Macdonell, the station-master at Gorton, has been complaining that he is short-handed and wants another porter. That just suits us, so we have resolved to give you that responsible situation. You will get a porter's uniform from—"

At this point Mr Sharp was interrupted by the door opening violently, and a detective in plain clothes entering with a stout young man in his grasp.

"Who have we here?" asked Mr Sharp.

"Man travelling without a ticket sir," replied the detective, whose calm demeanour was in marked contrast to the excitement of his prisoner.

"Ha! come here; what have you to say for yourself?" demanded the superintendent of the man.

Hereupon the man began a violent exculpation of himself, which entailed nearly half-an-hour of vigorous cross-questioning, and resulted in his giving a half-satisfactory account of himself, some trustworthy references to people in town, and being set free.

This case having been disposed of, Mr Sharp resumed his conversation with Blunt.

"Having been changed, then, into a railway porter, Blunt, you will proceed to Gorton to discharge your duties there, and while doing so you will make uncommonly good use of your eyes, ears, and opportunities."

Mr Sharp smiled and Blunt chuckled, and at the same time Joseph Tipps entered the room.

"Good-evening, Mr Sharp," he said. "Well, anything more about these Gorton robberies?"

"Nothing more yet, Mr Tipps, but we expect something more soon, for a new porter is about to be sent to the station."

Tipps, who was a very simple matter-of-fact man in some ways, looked puzzled.

"Why, how will the sending of a new porter to the station throw light on the matter?"

"You shall know in the course of time, Mr Tipps," replied the superintendent. "We have wonderful ways of finding out things here."

"Indeed you have," said Tipps; "and, by the way, that reminds me that they have some wonderful ways of finding out things on the Continent as well as here. I have just heard of a clever thing done by a German professor. It seems that on one of the lines—I forget which—a large box full of silver-plate was despatched. It had a long way to go, and before reaching its destination the plate was stolen, and the box filled up with sand. On this being discovered, of course every sort of investigation was set on foot, but without success. At last the thing came to the ears of a professor of chemistry—or the police went to him, I don't know which—and it occurred to him that he might get a clue to the thieves by means of the sand in the box. You see the great difficulty the police had, was to ascertain at which of the innumerable stations on the long line, it was likely that the theft had taken place. The professor ordered samples of the sand at all the stations on the line to be sent to him. These he analysed and examined with the microscope, and found that one of the samples was precisely similar in all respects to the sand in the box. The attention of the police was at once concentrated on the station from which that sand had been gathered, and in a short time the guilty parties were discovered and the theft brought home to them. Now, wasn't that clever?"

"Very good, very good, indeed," said Mr Sharp, approvingly, "and rather peculiar. I had a somewhat peculiar case myself last week. You know some time ago there was a quantity of cloth stolen on this line, for which, by the way, we had to pay full compensation. Well, I could not get any clue to the thieves, but at last I thought of a plan. I got some patterns of the cloth from the party that lost it, and sent one of these to every station on the line where it was likely to have been stolen. Just the other day I got a telegram from Croon station stating that a man had been seen going about in a new suit exactly the same as the pattern. Off I went immediately, pounced on the man, taxed him with the theft, and found the remainder of the cloth in his house."

"Capital," exclaimed Tipps, "that was smartly managed. And, by the way, wasn't there something about a case of stealing muffs and boas lately?"

"Yes, and we got hold of that thief too, the day before yesterday," replied Mr Sharp. "I felt sure, from the way in which the theft was committed, that it must be one of our own men, and so it turned out. He had cut open a bale and taken out several muffs and boas of first-rate sable. One set of 'em he gave to his sweetheart, who was seen wearing them in church on Sunday. I just went to her and said I was going to put a question to her, and warned her to speak the truth, as it would be worse for all parties concerned if she attempted to deceive me. I then asked her if she had got the muff and boa from Jim Croydon, the porter. She blushed scarlet, and admitted it at once, but said, poor thing, that she had no idea they had been stolen, and I believe her. This case occurred just after I had watched the milk-truck the other night for three hours, and found that the thief who had been helping himself to it every morning for some weeks past was the watchman at the station."

"I fear there are a great many bad fellows amongst us," said Tipps, shaking his head.

"You are quite mistaken," replied the superintendent. "There were a good many bad fellows, but I flatter myself that there are very few now in proportion to the number of men on the line. We are constantly winnowing them out, purifying the ore, as it were, so that we are gradually getting rid of all the dross, and leaving nothing but sterling metal on the line. Why, Mr Tipps, you surely don't expect that railways are to be exempted from black sheep any more than other large companies. Just look at the army and navy, and see what a lot of rascals have to be punished and drummed out of the service every now and then. Same everywhere. Why, when I consider that we employ over twenty thousand men and boys, and that these men and boys are tempted, more almost than any other class of people, by goods lying about constantly in large quantities in the open air, and in all sorts of lonely and out-of-the-way places, my surprise is that our bad men are so few. No doubt we shall always have one or two prowling about, and may occasionally alight on a nest of 'em, but we shall manage to keep 'em down—to winnow them out faster, perhaps, than they come in. I am just going about some little pieces of business of that sort now," added Mr Sharp; putting on his hat. "Did you wish to speak with me about anything in particular, Mr Tipps?"

"Yes; I wished to ask you if that fat woman, Mrs —-, what's her name?"

"You mean Mrs Podge, I suppose?" suggested Sharp; "she who kicked her heels so vigorously at Langrye after the accident."

"Ah! Mrs Podge—yes. Does she persist in her ridiculous claim for damages?"

"She does, having been urged to do so by some meddling friend; for I'm quite sure that she would never have thought of doing so herself, seeing that she received no damage at all beyond a fright. I'm going to pay her a visit to-day in reference to that very thing."

"That's all right; then I won't detain you longer. Good-bye, Mr Sharp," said Tipps, putting on his hat and quitting the office.

Not long afterwards, Mr Sharp knocked at the door of a small house in one of the suburbs of Clatterby, and was ushered into the presence of Mrs Podge. That amiable lady was seated by the fire knitting a stocking.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Podge," said Mr Sharp, bowing and speaking in his blandest tones. "I hope I see you quite well?"

Mrs Podge, charmed with the stranger's urbanity, wished him good afternoon, admitted that she was quite well, and begged him to be seated.

"Thank you, Mrs Podge," said Mr Sharp, complying. "I have taken the liberty of calling in regard to a small matter of business—but pardon me," he added, rising and shutting the door, "I inadvertently left the door open, which is quite inexcusable in me, considering your delicate state of health. I trust that—"

"My delicate state of health!" exclaimed Mrs Podge, who was as fat as a prize pig, and rather piqued herself on her good looks and vigour of body.

"Yes," continued Mr Sharp, in a commiserating tone; "I have understood, that since the accident on the railway your—"

"Oh, as to that," laughed Mrs Podge, "I'm not much the worse of—but, sir," she said, becoming suddenly grave, "you said you had called on business?"

"I did. My business is to ask," said Mr Sharp, with a very earnest glance of his penetrating eyes, "on what ground you claim compensation from the Grand National Trunk Railway?"

Instantly Mrs Podge's colour changed. She became languid, and sighed.

"Oh, sir—damages—yes—my nerves! I did not indeed suffer much damage in the way of cuts or bruises, though there was a good piece of skin torn off my elbow, which I could show you if it were proper to—but my nerves received a terrible shock. They have not yet recovered. Indeed, your abrupt way of putting it has quite—thrown a—"

As Mrs Podge exhibited some symptoms of a hysterical nature at this point Mr Sharp assumed a very severe expression of countenance, and said—

"Now, Mrs Podge, do you really think it fair or just, to claim damages from a company, from whom you have absolutely received no damage?"

"But sir," said Mrs Podge, recovering, "my nerves did receive damage."

"I do not doubt it Mrs Podge, but we cannot compensate you for that. If you had been laid up, money could have repaid you for lost time, or, if your goods had been damaged, it might have compensated for that but money cannot restore shocked nerves. Did you require medical attendance?"

"N-no!" said Mrs Podge, reddening. "A friend did indeed insist on my seeing a doctor, to whom, at his suggestion, I gave a fee of five shillings, but to say truth I did not require him."

"Ha! was it the same friend who advised you to claim compensation?"

"Ye-es!" replied Mrs Podge, a little confused.

"Well, Mrs Podge, from your own admission I rather think that there seems something like a fraudulent attempt to obtain money here. I do not for a moment hint that you are guilty of a fraudulent intention, but you must know, ma'am, that the law takes no notice of intentions— only of facts."

"But have I not a right to expect compensation for the shock to my nervous system?" pleaded Mrs Podge, still unwilling to give in.

"Certainly not, ma'am, if the shock did not interfere with your ordinary course of life or cause you pecuniary loss. And does it not seem hard on railways, if you can view the subject candidly, to be so severely punished for accidents which are in many eases absolutely unavoidable? Perfection is not to be attained in a moment. We are rapidly decreasing our risks and increasing our safeguards. We do our best for the safety and accommodation of the public, and as directors and officials travel by our trains as frequently as do the public, concern for our own lives insures that we work the line in good faith. Why, ma'am, I was myself near the train at the time of the accident at Langrye, and my nerves were considerably shaken. Moreover, there was a director with his daughter in the train, both of whom were severely shaken, but they do not dream of claiming damages on that account. If you could have shown, Mrs Podge, that you had suffered loss of any kind, we should have offered you compensation promptly, but as things stand—"

"Well, well," exclaimed Mrs Podge, testily. "I suppose I must give it up, but I don't see why railway companies should be allowed to shock my nerves and then refuse to give me any compensation!"

"But we do not absolutely refuse all compensation," said Mr Sharp, drawing out his purse; "if a sovereign will pay the five shilling fee of your doctor, and any other little expenses that you may have incurred, you are welcome to it."

Mrs Podge extended her hand, Mr Sharp dropped the piece of gold into it, and then, wishing her good afternoon, quitted the house.

The superintendent of police meditated, as he walked smartly away from Mrs Podge, on the wonderful differences that were to be met with in mankind, as to the matter of acquisitiveness, and his mind reverted to a visit he had paid some time before, to another of the passengers in the train to which the accident occurred. This was the commercial traveller who had one of his legs rather severely injured. He willingly showed his injured limb to our superintendent, when asked to do so, but positively declined to accept of any compensation whatever, although it was offered, and appeared to think himself handsomely treated when a few free passes were sent to him by the manager.

Contrasting Mrs Podge unfavourably with this rare variety of the injured human race, Mr Sharp continued his walk until he reached a part of the line, not far from the station, where a large number of vans and waggons were shunted on to sidings,—some empty, others loaded,—waiting to be made up into trains and forwarded to their several destinations.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

SHARP PRACTICE—CONTINUED.

Mr Sharp had several peculiarities, which, at first sight, might have puzzled a stranger. He was peculiar in his choice of routes by which to reach a given spot appearing frequently to prefer devious, difficult, and unfrequented paths to straight and easy roads. In the time of his visits to various places, too, he was peculiarly irregular, and seemed rather to enjoy taking people by surprise.

On the present occasion his chief peculiarity appeared to be a desire to approach the station by a round-about road. In carrying out his plans he went round the corner of a house, from which point of view he observed a goods train standing near a goods-shed with an engine attached. In order to reach it he had the choice of two routes. One of these was through a little wicket-gate, near to which a night-watchman was stationed—for the shades of evening were by that time descending on the scene, the other was through a back yard, round by a narrow lane and over a paling, which it required more than an average measure of strength and agility to leap. Mr Sharp chose the latter route. What were palings and narrow lanes and insecure footing in deepening gloom to him! Why, he rejoiced in such conditions! He didn't like easy work. He abhorred a bed of roses—not that he had ever tried one, although it is probable that he had often enjoyed a couch of grass, straw, or nettles. Rugged circumstances were his glory. It was as needful for him to encounter such—in his winnowing processes—as it is for the harrow to encounter stones in preparing the cultivated field. Moving quietly but swiftly round by the route before mentioned Mr Sharp came suddenly on the night-watchman.

"Good-evening, Jim."

"Evenin', sir."

"Keep your eyes open to-night, Jim. We must find out who it is that has taken such a fancy to apples of late."

"I will, sir; I'll keep a sharp look-out."

It was Jim's duty to watch that locality of the line, where large quantities of goods of all descriptions were unavoidably left to wait for a few hours on sidings. Such watchmen are numerous on all lines; and very necessary, as well as valuable, men most of them are—fellows who hold the idea of going to rest at regular hours in quiet contempt; men who sleep at any time of the night or day that chances to be most convenient, and who think no more of a hand-to-hand scuffle with a big thief or a burglar than they do of eating supper. Nevertheless, like every other class of men in this wicked world, there are black sheep amongst them too.

"Is that train going up to the station just now, Jim?" asked Mr Sharp, pointing to the engine, whose gentle simmering told of latent energy ready for immediate use.

"I believe so, sir."

"I'll go up with her. Good-night."

Mr Sharp crossed the line, and going towards the engine found that the driver and fireman were not upon it. He knew, however, that they could not be far off—probably looking after something connected with their train—and that they would be back immediately; he climbed up to the foot-plate and sat down on the rail. He there became reflective, and recalled, with some degree of amusement as well as satisfaction, some of the more recent incidents of his vocation. He smiled as he remembered how, not very far from where he sat, he had on a cloudy evening got into a horse-box, and boring a hole in it with a gimlet, applied his eye thereto,—his satellite David Blunt doing the same in another end of the same horse-box, and how, having thus obtained a clear view of a truck in which several casks of wine were placed, he beheld one of the servants on the line in company with one of his friends who was not a servant on the line, coolly bore a hole in one of the wine casks and insert a straw, and, by that means, obtain a prolonged and evidently satisfactory draught—which accounted at once for the fact that wine had been leaking in that locality for some time past, and that the said servant had been seen more than once in a condition that was deemed suspicious.

Mr Sharp also reflected complacently—and he had time to reflect, for the driver and fireman were rather long of coming—on another case in which the thieves were so wary that for a long time he could make nothing of them, although their depredations were confined to a train that passed along the line at a certain hour, but at last were caught in consequence of his hitting on a plan of having a van specially prepared for himself. He smiled again—almost laughed when he thought of this van—how it was regularly locked and labelled on a quiet siding; how a plank was loosened in the bottom of it, by which means he got into it, and was then shunted out, and attached to the train, so that neither guard, nor driver, nor fireman, had any idea of what was inside; how he thereafter bored several small gimlet holes in the various sides of the van and kept a sharp look-out from station to station as they went along; how at last he came to the particular place—not a station, but a place where a short pause was made—where the wary thieves were; how he saw them—two stout fellows—approach in the gloom of evening and begin their wicked work of cutting tarpaulings and abstracting goods; how he thereupon lifted his plank and dropped out on the line, and how he powerfully astonished them by laying his hands on their collars and taking them both in the very act!

At last Mr Sharp's entertaining reflections were interrupted by the approach of the driver of the engine, who carried a top-coat over his left arm.

As he drew near and observed who stood upon his engine, the man gave an involuntary and scarcely perceptible start.

There must have been something peculiarly savage and ungenerous in the breast of Mr Sharp, one would have thought, to induce him to suspect a man whose character was blameless. But he did suspect that man on the faith of that almost imperceptible touch of discomposure, and his suspicion did not dissipate although the man came boldly and respectfully forward.

"Ho-ho!" thought Mr Sharp, "there is more chaff here to be winnowed than I had bargained for." His only remark, however, was—

"Good-evening; I suppose you start for the station in a few minutes?"

"Yes, sir," said the man, moving towards the rear of the tender.

"You'd better get up at once, then," said Mr Sharp, descending quickly—"what have you got there, my good man?"

"My top-coat sir," said the driver, with a confused look.

"Ah, let us see—eh! what's all this? A salmon! a brace of grouse! and a pair of rabbits! Well, you seem to have provided a good supper for to-night. There don't appear to be very stringent game-laws where you come from!"

The man was so taken aback that he could not reply. As the fireman came out of the neighbouring goods-shed at that moment, Mr Sharp ordered the driver to mount to his place, and then waiting beside the engine received the fireman with an amiable "Good-night."

This man also had a top-coat over his arm, betrayed the same uneasiness on observing Mr Sharp, went though precisely the same examination, and was found to have made an identically similar provision for his supper.

Almost immediately after him the guard issued from the shed, also burdened with a top-coat! Mr Sharp muttered something about, "birds of a feather," and was about to advance to meet the guard when that individual's eyes fell on him. He turned back at once, not in a hurry, but quietly as though he had forgotten something. The superintendent sprang through the open door, but was too late. The guard had managed to drop his booty. Thereupon Mr Sharp returned to the engine, ordered the steam to be turned on, and the driver drove himself and his friends to the station and to condign punishment.

Having disposed of this little incidental case, Mr Sharp—after hearing and commenting upon several matters related to him by the members of his corps, and having ordered David Blunt to await him in the office as he had a job for him that night,—returned towards the locality which he had so recently quitted. In doing this he took advantage of another goods train, from which he dropped at a certain hole-and-corner spot, while it was slowly passing the goods-shed before mentioned. From this spot he took an observation and saw the pipe of Jim, the night-watchman, glowing in the dark distance like a star of the first magnitude.

"Ha!" thought Mr Sharp, "smoking! You'll have to clear your eyes of smoke if you hope to catch thieves to-night, my fine fellow; but I shall try to render you some able assistance."

So thinking, he moved quietly about among the vans and trucks, stooping and climbing as occasion required, and doing it all so noiselessly that, had the night permitted him to be visible at all, he might have been mistaken for a stout shadow or a ghost. He went about somewhat like a retriever snuffing the air for game. At last he reached a truck, not very far from the place where Jim paced slowly to and fro, watching, no doubt, for thieves. Little did he think how near he was to a thief at that moment!

The truck beside which Mr Sharp stood sent forth a delicious odour of American apples. The superintendent of police smelt them. Worse than that—he undid a corner of the thick covering of the track, raised it and smelt again—he put in a hand. Evidently his powers of resistance to temptation were small, for both hands went in—he stooped his head, and then, slowly but surely, his whole body went in under the cover and disappeared. Infatuated superintendent! While he lay there gorging himself, no doubt with the dainty fruit, honest Jim paced slowly to and fro until, a very dark and quiet hour of the night having arrived, he deemed it time to act, put out his pipe, and moved with stealthy tread towards the apple-truck. There were no thieves about as far as he could see. He was placed there for the express purpose of catching thieves. Ridiculous waste of time and energy—he would make a thief! He would become one; he would detect and catch himself; repay himself with apples for his trouble, and enjoy himself consumedly! Noble idea! No sooner thought than carried into effect. He drew out a large clasp-knife, which opened and locked with a click, and cut a tremendous slash about two feet long in the cover of the truck—passing, in so doing, within an inch of the demoralised superintendent's nose. Thieves, you see, are not particular, unless, indeed, we may regard them as particularly indifferent to the injuries they inflict on their fellow-men—but, what did we say? their fellow-men?—a railway is not a fellow-man. Surely Jim's sin in robbing a railway must be regarded as a venial one. Honest men do that every day and appear to think nothing of it! Nobody appears to think anything of it. A railway would seem to be the one great unpardonable outlaw of the land, which does good to nobody, and is deemed fair game by everybody who can catch it—napping. But it is not easily caught napping. Neither was Mr Superintendent Sharp.

Jim's hand came through the hole in the covering and entered some sort of receptacle, which must have been broken open by somebody, for the hand was quickly withdrawn with three apples in it. Again it entered. Mr Sharp might have kissed it easily, but he was a man of considerable self-restraint—at least when others were concerned. He thought it advisable that there should be some of the stolen goods found in Jim's pockets! He did not touch the hand, therefore, while it was drawn back with other three apples in it. You see it was a large hand, and could hold three at a time. A third time it entered and grasped more of the forbidden fruit.

"There's luck in odd numbers," thought Mr Sharp, as he seized the wrist with both of his iron hands, and held it fast.

The appalling yell which Jim uttered was due more to superstitious dread than physical fear, for, on discovering that the voice which accompanied the grip was that of Mr Sharp, he struggled powerfully to get free. After the first violent effort was over, Mr Sharp suddenly slid one hand along Jim's arm, caught him by the collar, and, launching himself through the hole which had been cut so conveniently large, plunged into Jim's bosom and crushed him to the earth.

This was quite sufficient for Jim, who got up meekly when permitted, and pleaded for mercy. Mr Sharp told him that mercy was a commodity in which he did not deal, that it was the special perquisite of judges, from whom he might steal it if they would not give or sell it to him, and, bidding him come along quietly, led him to the station, and locked him up for the night.

Not satisfied with what he had already accomplished, Mr Sharp then returned to his office, where he found the faithful Blunt awaiting him, to whom he related briefly what he had done.

"Now," said he, in conclusion, "if we can only manage to clear up that case of the beer-cask, we shall have done a good stroke of business to-day. Have you found out anything in regard to it?"

The case to which Mr Sharp referred was that of a cask of beer which had been stolen from the line at a station not three miles distant from Clatterby.

"Yes, sir," said David Blunt with a satisfied smile, "I have found out enough to lead to the detection of the thief."

"Indeed, who d'ye think it is?"

"One of the men at the station, sir. There have been two about it but the other is a stranger. You see, sir," continued Blunt, with an earnest look, and in a business tone of voice, "when you sent me down to investigate the case I went d'rect to the station-master there and heard all he had to say about it—which wasn't much;—then off I goes to where the truck was standin', from which the cask had bin taken and pottered about there for some time. At last I tried on the Red Indian dodge— followed up tracks and signs, till at last I came upon a mark as if somethin' had bin rolled along the bank, and soon traced it to a gap broken through a hedge into a field. I followed it up in the field, and in a short time came on the cask itself. Of course I made a careful examination of the locality, and found very distinct foot-prints, particularly one of 'em on a piece of clay as sharp as if it had been struck in wax. While thus engaged I found a shoe—"

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr Sharp.

"And here it is," said Blunt taking the shoe from under his chair and laying it on the table.

The superintendent took it up, examined it and then replaced it on the table with a nod, saying, "Proceed."

"Well, sir, of course I looked well for the other shoe, but didn't find it; so I came away with what I had got, takin' care to place a lump of a stone over the foot-print in the clay, so as to guard but not touch it,—for it wasn't the print of this shoe, sir, though somewhat like it."

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr Sharp again.

After revolving the matter in his mind for some minutes, and consulting with his satellite, Mr Sharp resolved to go down at once to the place and watch the beer-cask.

"It is not very late yet," he said, "and these thirsty boys will be sure to want a drop of beer to their supper to-night. What makes you so sure that Bill Jones is the thief?"

"Because," answered Blunt, "I observed that he was the only man at the station that had on a pair of new shoes!"

"Well, come along," said Sharp, smiling grimly, "we shall find out before long."

They soon reached the scene of the robbery, and were able to examine the place by the light of the moon, which had just managed to pierce the thick veil of clouds that had covered it during the earlier part of that night. Then they retired to a shady cavern, or hole, or hollow at the foot of the embankment, near to the gap in the hedge, and there they prepared to pass the night, with a heap of mingled clods and stones for their couch, and an overhanging bank of nettles for their canopy.

It was a long weary watch that began. There these patient men sat, hour after hour, gazing at the moon and stars till they almost fell asleep, and then entering into animated, though softly uttered, conversation until they roused themselves up. It was strange converse too, about struggles and fights with criminals and the detection of crime. But it was not all on such subjects. No, they forsook the professional path occasionally and strayed, as pleasantly as other men do, into the flowery lanes of social life—talking of friends, and wives, and children, and home, with as much pathos and tenderness as if their errand that night had been to succour some comrade in distress, instead of to watch like wolves, and pounce on unawares, and half throttle if need be, and bear off to punishment, an erring fellow-mortal.

But no fellow-mortal came that night to be thus pounced on, throttled, and borne off. When it became obvious that there was no use in remaining longer, Mr Sharp and his satellite returned to the office, and the former bade the latter go home for the night.

The satellite, thus set free, went home and set immediately—in his bed. The luminary himself postponed his setting for a time, put the thief's shoe in his pocket and went straight to the residence of Bill Jones, which he reached shortly after the grey dawn had appeared. Here he found Bill in bed; but being peremptory in his demand for admission, Bill arose and let him in.

"You look rather pale this morning, Bill?"

"Bin at work late, sir," said Bill uneasily, observing that the superintendent was casting an earnest glance all round his room.

Jones was a bachelor, so there wasn't much of any kind to look at in the room.

"You've been treating yourself to a new pair of shoes, I see, Jones, what have you done with the old ones?"

"I—they're worn-out, sir—I—"

"Yes, I see—ah! here is one of them," said Mr Sharp, drawing an old shoe out of a corner; "you don't require to look for the other, I've got it here," he added, drawing its fellow from his pocket.

Jones stood aghast.

"Look here, Jones," said Mr Sharp, gazing sternly into the culprit's face, "you needn't trouble yourself to deny the theft. I haven't yet looked at the sole of this shoe, but I'll engage to tell how many tackets are in it. We have discovered a little lump of clay down near the station, with a perfect impression of a sole having fifteen tackets therein,—three being wanting on the right, side, two on the left, and one at the toe—now, let us see," he said, turning it up, "am I not a good prophet eh?"

Bill gave in at once! He not only made "a clean breast of it," but also gave information that led to the capture of his accomplice before that day's sun went down, and before Mr Sharp allowed himself to go to bed.

Thus did our superintendent winnow the chaff from the wheat continually.

Now, dear reader, do not say, "From all this it would appear that railway servants must be a bad lot of men!" It would be a thousand pities to fail into such an error, when we are labouring to prove to you the very reverse, namely, that the bad ones being continually and well "looked after," none but the good are left. Our aim necessarily involves that we should dilate much on evil, so that the evil unavoidably bulks large in your eyes; but if we were capable of laying before you all the good that is done, felt and said by the thousands of our true-hearted men-of-the-line, the evil that is mingled with them would shrink into comparative insignificance.

The truth is, that in writing these details we desire to reassure ourself, as well as to comfort you, O timid railway traveller, by asserting and illustrating the unquestionable fact, that if our dangers on the line are numerous and great, our safeguards at all points are far more numerous and much greater.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

LOO'S GARDEN.

The plans of nurses, not less than those of mice and men, are apt to get into disorder. Mrs Durby having packed up the diamond ring in the careful manner which we have described in a previous chapter, essayed to get ready for her important journey to London on pawning purposes intent, but she found that there were so many little preparations to make, both in regard to her own toilette and to the arrangements of Mrs Tipps' establishment, in prospect of its being left without its first mate for a time, that a considerable period elapsed before she got her anchor tripped and herself ready to set sail with the first fair wind. Worthy Mrs Durby, we may observe, was fond of quoting the late captain's phraseology. She was an affectionate creature, and liked to recall his memory in this somewhat peculiar fashion.

In anticipation of this journey, Netta went one evening, in company with Emma Lee, to pay Mrs John Marrot a friendly visit, ostensibly for the purpose of inquiring after the health of baby Marrot, who, having recently fallen down-stairs, swallowed a brass button and eaten an unknown quantity of shoe-blacking, had been somewhat ailing. The real object of the visit however, was to ask Mrs Marrot to beg of her husband to take a special interest in Mrs Durby on her journey, as that excellent nurse had made up her mind to go by the train which he drove, feeling assured that if safety by rail was attainable at all, it must be by having a friend at court—a good and true man at the helm, so to speak.

"But la, Miss!" said Mrs Marrot, sitting on the bed and patting the baby, whose ruling passion, mischief, could not be disguised even in distress, seeing that it gleamed from his glassy eyes and issued in intermittent yells from his fevered throat, "if your nurse is of a narvish temperment she'd better not go with my John, 'cause he usually drives the Flyin' Dutchman."

"Indeed!" said Netta, with a puzzled smile; "and pray, what is the Flyin' Dutchman?"

A yell and a glare from baby interrupted the reply. At the same instant the 7:45 p.m. express flew past with a roar, which was intensified by the whistle into a shriek as it neared the station. The house trembled as usual. Netta, not unnaturally, shuddered.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss, it's only the express."

"Do expresses often pass your cottage in that way?" asked Netta, with a touch of pity.

"Bless you, yes, Miss; they're always passin' day and night continooly; but we don't think nothink of it. We've got used to it now."

"Does it not disturb you at night?" asked Emma Lee in some surprise.

"No, Miss, it don't—not in the least. No doubt it sometimes do influence our dreams, if I may say so. As my son Bob says—he's a humorous boy is my Bob, Miss—he says, says he, the trains can't awaken us, but they do awaken noo trains of ideas, especially w'en they stops right opposite the winder an' blows off steam, or whistles like mad for five minutes at a time. I sometimes think that Bob is right, an' that's w'y baby have took to yellin' an' mischief with such a 'igh 'and. They do say that a man is knowd by the company he keeps, and I'm sure it's no wonder that baby should screech an' smash as he do, considerin' the example set 'im day an' night by them ingines."

Here another yell from baby gave, as it were, assent to these opinions.

"But, as I was sayin'," continued Mrs Marrot, "the Flyin' Dutchman is the name that my 'usband's train goes by, 'cause it is the fastest train in the kingdom—so they say. It goes at the rate of over sixty miles an hour, an' ain't just quite the train for people as is narvish—though my 'usband do say it ain't more dangerous than other trains—not s'much so, indeed, wich I believe myself, for there ain't nothink 'appened to my John all the eight years he have drove it."

"Is sixty miles an hour very much faster than the rate of ordinary trains?" asked Emma.

"W'y, yes, Miss. Or'nary trains they run between twenty and forty miles an hour, though sometimes in goin' down inclines they git up to fifty; but my 'usband averages sixty miles an hour, an' on some parts o' the line 'e gits up the speed to sixty-five an' siventy. For my own part I'm quite hignorant of these things. To my mind all the ingines seem to go bangin' an' rushin' an' yellin' about pretty much in the same furious way; but I've often 'eard my 'usband explain it all, an' he knows all about it Miss, just as if it wor A, B, C."

Having discussed such matters a little longer, and entered with genuine sympathy into the physical and mental condition of baby, Netta finally arranged that her old nurse should go by the Flying Dutchman, seeing that she would be unable to distinguish the difference of speed between one train and another, while her mind would be at rest, if she knew herself to be under the care of a man, in whom she could trust.

"Well, Miss, I dessay it won't much matter," said Mrs Marrot, endeavouring to soothe the baby, in whom the button or the blacking appeared to be creating dire havoc; "but of course my 'usband can't attend to 'er 'isself, not bein' allowed to attend to nothink but 'is ingine. But he'll put 'er in charge of the guard, who is a very 'andsome man, and uncommon polite to ladies. Stay, I'll speak to Willum Garvie about it now," said Mrs Marrot, rising; "he's in the garding be'ind."

"Pray don't call him in," said Netta, rising quickly; "we will go down to him. I should like much to see your garden."

"You'll find my Loo there, too," said Mrs Marrot with a motherly smile, as she opened the door to let her visitors out. "You'll excuse me not goin' hout. I dursn't leave that baby for a minute. He'd be over the— there he—"

The sentence was cut short by a yell, followed by a heavy bump, and the door shut with a bang, which sent Emma and her friend round the corner of the house in a highly amused frame of mind.

John Marrot's garden was a small one—so small that the break-van of his own "Flyin' Dutchman" could have contained it easily—but it was not too small to present a luxuriance, fertility, and brilliance of colour that was absolutely magnificent! Surrounded as that garden was by "ballast" from the embankment, broken wheels and rail, bricks and stones, and other miscellaneous refuse and debris of the line, it could only be compared to an oasis in the desert, or a bright gem on a rugged warrior's breast. This garden owed its origin to Lucy Marrot's love for flowers, and it owed much of its magnificence to Will Garvie's love for Lucy; for that amiable fireman spent much of his small wage in purchasing seed and other things for the improvement of that garden, and spent the very few hours of his life, not claimed by the inexorable iron horse, in assisting to cultivate the same.

We use the word 'assisting' advisedly, because Loo would not hear of his taking this sort of work out of her hands. She was far too fond of it to permit that, but she had no objection whatever to his assistance. There never was, so Will and Loo thought, anything like the love which these two bore to each other. Extremes meet, undoubtedly. Their love was so intensely matter of fact and earnest that it rose high above the region of romance, in which lower region so many of our race do delight to coo and sigh. There was no nonsense about it. Will Garvie, who was naturally bold—no wonder, considering his meteor-like style of life— saw all the flowers in the garden as well as any other man, and admired them more than most men, but he said gravely that he wouldn't give the end of a cracked boiler-tube for the whole garden, if she were not in the midst of it. At which Loo laughed heartily, and blushed with pleasure, and made no other reply.

It was quite delightful to observe the earnestness with which these two devoted themselves to the training of honeysuckle and jessamine over a trellis-work porch in that preposterously small garden, in which there was such a wealth of sweet peas, and roses, and marigolds, and mignonette, and scarlet geraniums, and delicately-coloured heliotropes, that it seemed as though they were making love in the midst of a glowing furnace. Gertie was there too, like a small female Cupid nestling among the flowers.

"A miniature paradise," whispered Emma, with twinkling eyes, as they approached the unconscious pair.

"Yes, with Adam and Eve training the flowers," responded Netta quite earnestly.

Adam making love in the fustian costume of the fireman of the "Flying Dutchman" was an idea which must have struck Emma in some fashion, for she found it difficult to command her features when introduced to the inhabitants of that little Eden by her friend.

"I have called to tell Mrs Marrot," said Netta, "that my old nurse, Mrs Durby, is going to London soon, and that I wished your father to take a sort of charge of her, more for the sake of making her feel at ease than anything else."

"I'm quite sure he will be delighted to do that," said Loo; "won't he, Will?"

"Why, yes," replied the fireman, "your father is not the man to see a woman in distress and stand by. He'll give her in charge of the guard, for you see, ma'am, he's not allowed to leave his engine." Will addressed the latter part of his remarks to Netta.

"That is just what Mrs Marrot said, and that will do equally well. Would you like to travel on the railway, Gertie?" said Netta, observing that the child was gazing up in her face with large earnest eyes.

"No," answered Gertie, with decision.

"No; why not?"

"Because it takes father too often away, and once it nearly killed him," said Gertie.

"Ah, that was the time that my own dear mother received such a shock, I suppose?"

"No, ma'am," said Will Garvie, "Gertie is thinkin' of another time, when Jack Marrot was drivin' an excursion train—not three years gone by, and he ran into a lot of empty trucks that had broke loose from a train in advance. They turned the engine off the rails, and it ran down an embankment into a ploughed field, where it turned right over on the top of Jack. Fortunately he fell between the funnel and the steam-dome, which was the means of savin' his life; but he got a bad shake, and was off duty some six or eight weeks. The fireman escaped without a scratch, and, as the coupling of the leading carriage broke, the train didn't leave the metals, and no serious damage was done to any one else. I think our Gertie," continued Will, laying his big strong hand gently on the child's head, "seems to have taken an ill-will to railways since then."

"I'm not surprised to hear it," observed Emma Lee, as she bent down and kissed Gertie's forehead. "I have once been in a railway accident myself, and I share your dislike; but I fear that we couldn't get on well without them now, so you and I must be content to tolerate them, Gertie."

"I s'pose so," was Gertie's quiet response, delivered, much to the amusement of her audience, with the gravity and the air of a grown woman.

"Well, good-evening, Gertie, good-evening," said Netta, turning to Garvie; "then I may tell my nurse that the engine-driver of the express will take care of her."

"Yes, ma'am, you may; for the matter o' that, the fireman of the express will keep an eye on her too," said the gallant William, touching his cap as the two friends left that bright oasis in the desert and returned to Eden Villa.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

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!