A SECOND CALAMITY
While hunting up the garage and negotiating for gasoline Steve thrust
resolutely from his mind his encounter with O'Malley and the galling
sense of inferiority it carried with it; but once on the highroad again
the smart returned and the sting lingering behind the man's scorn was
not to be allayed. It required every excuse his wounded dignity could
muster to bolster up his pride and make out for himself the plausible
case that had previously comforted him and lulled his conscience to
rest. It was now more impossible than ever for him to make any
confession, he decided; for having denied in his father's presence
O'Malley's acquaintance it would be ridiculous to acknowledge that he
had known the truck driver all along. Of course he could not do that.
Whatever he might have said or done at the time, it was entirely too
late to go back on his conduct now. One event had followed on the heels
of another until to slip out a single stone of the structure he had
built up would topple over the whole house.
If he had spoken in the beginning that would have been quite simple. All
he could do now was to let bygones be bygones and in the pleasure of
to-day forget the mistakes of yesterday. Consoled by this reflection he
managed to recapture such a degree of his self-esteem that by the time
he rejoined the family he was once more holding his head in the air and
smiling with his wonted lightness of heart.
"We shall get you to Northampton now, daughter, without more delay, I
hope," Mrs. Tolman affirmed when the car was again skimming along. "We
may be a bit behind schedule; nevertheless a late arrival by motor will
be pleasanter than to have made the trip by train."
"I should say so!" was the fervent ejaculation.
"Come, come!" interrupted Mr. Tolman. "I shall not sit back and allow
you two people to cry down the railroads. They are not perfect, I will
admit, and unquestionably trains do not always go at the hours we wish
they did; a touring car is, perhaps, a more comfortable and luxurious
method of travel, especially in summer. But just as it is an improvement
over the train, so the train was a mighty advance over the stagecoach of
olden days."
"Oh, I don't know, Dad," Stephen mused. "I am not so sure that I should
not have liked stagecoaches better. Think what jolly sport it must have
been to drive all over the country!"
"In fine weather, yes--that is, if the roads had been as excellent as
they are now; but you must remember that in the old coaching days
road-building had not reached its present perfection. Traveling by
stage over a rough highway in a conveyance that had few springs was not
so comfortable an undertaking as it is sometimes pictured. Furthermore
you must not forget that it was also perilous, for not only was there
danger from accident on these poorly constructed, unlighted
thoroughfares but there was in addition the menace from highwaymen in
the less populated districts. It took a great while to make a journey of
any length, too, and to sleep in a coach where one was cramped, jolted,
and either none too warm or miserably hot was not an unalloyed delight,
as I am sure you will agree."
"I had not thought of any of those things," owned Stephen. "It just
seemed on the face of it as if it must have been fun to ride on top of
the coach and see the sights as one does from the Fifth Avenue or London
buses."
"Oh," laughed his father, "a few hours' adventure like that is quite a
different affair from making a stagecoach journey. I grant that to ride
on a clear morning through the streets of a great city, or bowl along
the velvet roads of a picturesque countryside as one frequently does in
England is very delightful. To read Dickens' descriptions of journeys up
to London is to long to don a greatcoat, wind a muffler about one's
neck, and amid the cracking of whips and tooting of horns dash off
behind the horses for the fairy city his pen portrays. Who would not
have liked, for example, to set out with Mr. Pickwick for the Christmas
holidays at Dingley Dell? Why, you cannot even read about it without
seeing in your mind's eye the envious throng that crowded the inn yard
and watched while the stableboys loosed the heads of the leaders and the
steeds galloped away! And those marvelous country taverns he depicts,
with their roaring fires, their steaming roasts, their big platters of
fowl deluged in gravy, and their hot puddings! Was there ever writer
more tantalizing?"
"You will have us all hungry in two minutes, Dad, if you keep on,"
exclaimed Stephen.
"And Dickens has us hungry, too," declared Mr. Tolman. "Nevertheless we
must not forget that he paints but one side of the picture. He fails to
emphasize what such a trip meant when the weather was cold and stormy,
and those outside the coach as well as those inside it were often
drenched with rain or snow, and well-nigh frozen to death. Moreover,
while it is true that many of the inns along the turnpike were clean and
furnished excellent fare, there were others that could boast nothing
better than chilly rooms, damp beds, and only a very limited
hospitality."
"I believe you are a realist, Henry," said his wife playfully.
Her husband laughed.
"Nor must we lose sight of the time consumed by making a trip by coach,"
he went on. "Business in those days was not such a rushing matter as it
is now, of course; yet even when issues of importance were at stake, or
crises of life and death were to be met, there was no hurrying things
beyond a certain point. Physical impossibility prohibited it. Horses
driven at their liveliest pace could cover only a comparatively small
number of miles an hour; and at the points where the relays were
changed, or the horses fed and rested; the mails deposited or taken
aboard; and passengers left or picked up, there were unavoidable delays.
In fact, the strongest argument against the stagecoach, and the one that
influenced public opinion the most, was this so-called fast-mail
service; for in order to make connections with other mail coaches along
the route and not forfeit the money paid for doing so, horses were often
driven at such a merciless rate of speed that the poor creatures became
total wrecks within a very short time. Many a horse fell in its tracks
in the inn yards, having been lashed along to make the necessary ten
miles an hour and reach a specified town on schedule. Other horses were
maimed for life. It is tragic to consider that in England before the
advent of the railroad about thirty thousand horses were annually either
killed outright or injured so badly that they were of little use
afterward."
"Great Scott, Dad!" ejaculated Stephen.
"And England was no more guilty in this respect than was America, for in
the early days of our own country when people were demanding quicker
transportation and swifter mail service thousands of noble beasts
offered up their last breath in making the required rate of speed."
"I suppose nobody thought about the horses," murmured the boy. "I am
sure I didn't."
"If the public thought at all it was too selfish to care, I am afraid,
until threatened by the possibility of the total extermination of these
creatures," was his father's reply. "This danger, blended with a humane
impulse which rose from the gentler-minded portion of the populace, was
the decisive factor in urging men to seek out some other method of
travel. Then, too, the world was waking up commercially and it was
becoming imperative to find better ways for transporting the ever
increasing supplies of merchandise. The quick moving of troops from one
point to another was also an issue. Although the canals of England
enabled the government to carry quite a large body of men, the method
was a slow one. In 1806, for instance, it took exactly a week to shift
troops from Liverpool to London, a distance of thirty-four miles."
"Why, they could have marched it in less time than that, couldn't they?"
questioned Doris derisively.
"Yes, the journey might easily have been made on foot in two days,"
nodded her father. "But in war time a long march which exhausts the
soldiers is frequently an unwise policy, for the men are in no condition
when they arrive to go into immediate action, as reenforcements often
must."
"I see," answered Doris.
"When the Liverpool and Manchester Railroad was opened in 1830 this
thirty-four miles was covered in two hours," continued Mr. Tolman. "Of
course the quick transportation of troops was then, as now, of very
vital importance. We have had plenty of illustrations of that in our
recent war against Germany. Frequently the fate of a battle has hung on
large reenforcements being speedily dispatched to a weak point in the
line. Moreover, by means of the railroads, vast quantities of food,
ammunition and supplies of all sorts can constantly be sent forward to
the men in action. During the late war our American engineers laid miles
and miles of track under fire, thereby keeping open the route to the
front so that there was no danger of the fighters being cut off and left
unequipped. It was a service for which they, as well as our nation, won
the highest praise. And not only was there a constant flow of supplies
but it was by means of these railroads that hospital trains were enabled
to carry to dressing stations far behind the lines thousands of wounded
men whose lives might otherwise have been lost."
"I suppose the slightly wounded could be made more comfortable in this
way, too," Mrs. Tolman suggested.
"Yes, indeed," was the reply. "Not only were the men better cared for in
the roomier hospitals behind the lines, but as there was more space
there the peril from contagion, always a menace when large numbers of
sick are packed closely together, was greatly lessened; for there is
nothing army doctors dread so much as an epidemic of disease when there
is not enough room to isolate the patients."
"When did England adopt railroads in place of stagecoaches, Dad?" asked
Doris presently.
At the question her father laughed.
"See here!" he protested good-humoredly, "what do you think I am? Just
because I happen to be a superintendent do you think me a volume of
railroad history, young woman? The topic, I confess, is a fascinating
one; but I am off for a vacation to-day."
"Oh, tell us, Dad, do!" urged the girl.
"Nonsense! What is the use of spoiling a fine morning like this talking
business?" objected her father.
"But it is not business to us," interrupted Mrs. Tolman. "It is simple a
story--a sort of fairy tale."
"It is not unlike a fairy tale, that's a fact," reflected her husband
gravely. "Imagine yourself back, then, in 1700, before steam power was
in use in England. Now you must not suppose that steam had never been
heard of, for an ancient Alexandrian record dated 120 B. C. describes a
steam turbine, steam fountain, and steam boiler; nevertheless, Hero, the
historian who tells us of them, leaves us in doubt as to whether these
wonders were actually worked out, or if they were, whether they were
anything but miniature models. Still the fact that they are mentioned
goes to prove that there were persons in the world who at a very early
date vaguely realized the possibilities of steam as a force, whether
turned to practical uses or not. For years the subject remained an
alluring one which led many a scientist into experiments without number.
In various parts of the world men played with the idea and wrote about
it; but no one actually produced any practical steam contrivance until
1650, when the second Marquis of Worcester constructed a steam fountain
that could force the water from the moat around his castle as high as
the top of one of the towers. The feat was looked upon as a marvel and
afterward a larger fountain, similar in principle, was constructed at
Vauxhall and from that time on the future of steam as a motive power was
assured."
"Did the Marquis of Worcester go on with his experiments and make other
things?" demanded Stephen.
"Apparently not," replied his father. "He did, nevertheless, furnish a
basis for others to work on. Scientists were encouraged to investigate
with redoubled zeal this strange vapor which, when controlled and
directed, could carry water to the top of a castle tower. When in 1698
Savery turned Worcester's crude steam fountain to draining mines and
carrying a water supply, every vestige of doubt that this mighty power
could be applied to practical uses vanished."
"Did the steam engine come soon afterward?" queried Doris, who had
become interested in the story.
"No, not immediately," answered Mr. Tolman, pausing to shift the gear of
the car. "Before the steam engine, as we know it, saw the light, there
had to be more experimenting and improving of the steam fountain. It was
not until 1705 that Thomas Newcomen and his partner, John Calley,
invented and patented the first real steam engine. Of course it was not
in the least like the engines we use now. Still, it was a steam device
with moving parts which would pump water, a tremendous advance over the
mechanisms of the past where all the power had been secured by the
alternate filling and emptying of a vacuum, or vacant receptacle,
attached to the pump. Now, with Newcomen's engine a complete revolution
took place. The engine with moving parts, the ancestor of our modern
exquisitely constructed machinery, speedily crowded out the primitive
steam fountain idea. The new device was very imperfect, there can be no
question about that; but just as the steam fountain furnished the
inspiration for the engine with moving parts, so this forward step
became the working hypothesis for the engines that followed."
"What engines did follow?" Doris persisted, "and who did invent our
steam engine?"
"Silly! And you in college," jeered Steve disdainfully.
"I am not taking a course in steam engines there," laughed his sister
teasingly. "Anyway, girls are not expected to know who invented all the
machines in the world, are they, Dad?"
Mr. Tolman waited a moment, then said soothingly:
"No, dear. Girls are not usually so much interested in scientific
subjects as boys are--although why they should not be I never could
quite understand. Nevertheless, I think it might be as well for even a
girl to know to whom we are indebted for such a significant invention as
the steam engine.
"It was James Watt," Stephen asserted triumphantly.
"It certainly was," his father agreed. "And since your brother has his
information at his tongue's end, suppose we get him to tell us more
about this remarkable person."
Stephen flushed.
"I'm afraid," began he lamely, "that I don't know much more. You see, I
studied about him quite a long time ago and I don't remember the
details. I should have to look it up. I do recall the name, though--"
His father looked amused.
"I don't know which of you children is the more blameworthy," remarked
he in a bantering tone. "Doris, who never heard of Watt; or Stephen, who
has forgotten all about him."
Both the boy and the girl chuckled good-humoredly.
"At least I knew his name, Dad--give me credit for that," piped Steve.
"That was something, certainly," Mrs. Tolman declared, joining in the
laugh.
"Well, since neither of us can furnish the story, I don't see but that
you will have to do it, Dad," Doris said mischievously.
"It would be a terrible humiliation if I should discover that I could
not do it, wouldn't it?" replied Mr. Tolman with a smile. "In point of
fact, there actually is not a great deal more that it is essential for
one to know. It was by perfecting the engines of the Newcomen type and
adding to them first one and then another valuable device that Watt
finally built up the forerunner of our present-day engine. The
progression was a gradual one. Now he would better one part, then some
other. He surrounded the cylinder, for example, with a jacket, or
chamber, which contained steam at the same pressure as that within the
boiler, thereby keeping it as hot as the steam that entered it--a very
important improvement over the old idea; then he worked out a plan by
which the steam could be admitted at each end of the cylinder instead of
at one end, as was the case with former engines. The latter innovation
resulted in the push and pull of the piston rod. So it went."
"How did Watt come to know so much about engines?" asked Stephen.
"Oh, Watt was an engineer by trade--or rather he was a maker of
mathematical instruments for the University of Glasgow, where he came
into touch with a Newcomen engine. He also made surveys of rivers,
harbors, and canals. So you see it was quite a consistent thing that a
man with such a bent of mind should take up the pastime of experimenting
with a toy like the steam engine in his leisure hours."
"Did he go so far as to patent it, Henry?" Mrs. Tolman questioned.
"Yes, he did. Many of our scientists either had not the wit to do this,
alas, or else they were too impractical to appreciate the value of their
ideas. In consequence the glory and financial benefit of what they did
was often filched from them. But Watt was a Scotchman and canny enough
to realize to some extent what his invention was worth. He therefore
obtained a patent on it which was good for twenty-five years; and when,
in 1800, this right expired he retired from business with both fame and
fortune."
"It is nice to hear of one inventor who got something out of his toil,"
Mrs. Tolman observed.
"Indeed it is. Think of the many men who have slaved day and night,
forfeited health, friends, and money to give to the world an idea, and
never lived to receive either gratitude or financial reward, dying
unknown or entirely forgotten. There is something tragic about the
injustice of it. But Watt, I am glad to say, lived long enough to
witness the service he had done mankind and enjoy an honored place among
the great of the world."
"Is the kind of engine Watt invented now in use?" Doris inquired.
"Yes, that is a double-acting or reciprocating engine of a more perfect
type," her father returned. "Mechanics and engineers went on improving
Watt's engine just as he had improved those that had preceded it. It is
interesting, too, to notice that after thousands of years scientists
have again worked around to the steam turbine described so long ago in
the Alexandrian records. This engine, although it does away with many of
the moving parts introduced by Newcomen, preserves the essential
principles of that early engine combined with Watt's later improvements.
To-day we have a number of different kinds of engines, their variety
differing with the purpose to which they are applied. Their cost,
weight, and the space they require have been reduced and their power
increased, and in addition we have made it possible to run them not only
by means of coal or wood but by gasoline, oil, or electricity. We have
small, light-weight engines for navigation use; mighty engines to propel
our great warships and ocean liners; stationary engines for mills and
power plants; to say nothing of the wonderful locomotive engines that
can draw the heaviest trains over the highest of mountains. The
principle of all these engines is, however, the same and for the brain
behind them we must thank James Watt."
"Was it Watt who invented the locomotive, too?" ventured Doris. Her
father shook his head.
"The perfecting of the locomotive, my dear, is, as Kipling says, another
story."
"Tell it to us."
"Not now, daughter," protested Mr. Tolman. "I am far too hungry; and
more than that I am eager to enjoy this beautiful country and forget
railroads and locomotives."
"Did you say you were hungry, Henry?" asked Mrs. Tolman.
"I am--starved!" her husband said apologetically. "Isn't it absurd to be
hungry so early in the day?"
"It is nearly noon, Dad!" said Steve, glancing down at the clock in the
front of the car.
"Noon! Why, I thought it was still the middle of the morning."
"No, indeed! While you have been talking we have come many a mile, and
the time has slipped past," his wife said. "If all goes well--" The shot
from a bursting tire rent the air.
"Which evidently it does not," interrupted Mr. Tolman grimly, bringing
the car to a stop. "How aggravating! We were almost into Palmer, where I
had planned for us to lunch. Now it may be some little time before we
can get anything to eat."
"Motorist's luck! Motorist's luck, my dear!" cried Mrs. Tolman gaily.
"An automobilist must resign himself to taking cheerfully what comes."
"That is all very well," grumbled her husband, as he clambered out of
the car. "Nevertheless you must admit that this mishap on the heels of
the other one is annoying."
Stephen also got out and the two bent to examine the punctured tire.
"I should not mind so much if I were not so hungry," murmured Mr.
Tolman. "How are you, Steve? Fainting away?"
The boy laughed.
"Well, I could eat something if I had it," he confessed.
"I wish I hadn't mentioned food," went on Mr. Tolman humorously. "It was
an unfortunate suggestion."
"I'm hungry, too," piped Doris.
"There, you see the epidemic you have started, Henry," called Mrs.
Tolman accusingly. "Here is Doris vowing she is in the last throes of
starvation."
Nobody noticed that in the meanwhile the mother had reached down and
lifted into her lap the small suitcase hidden in the bottom of the car.
She opened the cover and began to remove its contents.
At length, when a remark her husband made to her went unheeded, he
sensed her preoccupation and came around to the side of the car where
she was sitting. Immediately he gave a cry of surprise.
"My word!" he exclaimed. "Steve, come here and see what your mother
has."
Stephen looked.
There sat Mrs. Tolman, unpacking with quiet enjoyment sandwiches, eggs,
cake, cookies, and olives.
A shout of pleasure rose from the famished travelers.
"So it was not your jewels, after all, Mater!" cried Stephen.
"No, and after the way you have slandered me and my little suitcase,
none of you deserve a thing to eat," his mother replied. "However, I am
going to be magnanimous if only to shame you. Now climb in and we will
have our lunch. You can fix the tire afterward."
The men were only too willing to obey.
As with brightened faces they took their seats in the car, Stephen
smiled with affection at his mother.
"Well, Mater, Watt was not the only person who lived to see himself
appreciated; and I don't believe people were any more grateful to him
for his steam engine than we are to you right now for this luncheon. You
are the best mother I ever had."