MR. TOLMAN'S SECOND YARN
For a day or two it seemed to Stephen that he would never cease to be
haunted by the shame and regret that followed his confiscation of the
big red touring car, or forget the good resolutions he made in
consequence; but within an incredibly short time both considerations
were thrust into the background by the rush of life's busy current.
School and athletics kept him occupied so that he had little leisure for
thought, and when he was in the house his father and mother smiled on
him as affectionately as before, which did much to restore to him his
normal poise. Long ago the boys had dropped the motor-car episode from
their memories and even Bud Taylor did not refer to it when he and Steve
came together to organize the hockey team for the approaching matches.
In the meantime the Thanksgiving holidays were drawing near and Mr.
Tolman suggested that he and Stephen should run over to New York for a
short visit. With the prospect of so much pleasure was it strange the
boy ceased to dwell on the unhappiness of the past or the possibility of
disaster in the future? The coming journey to New York was, to be sure,
no great novelty, for Stephen had often accompanied his father there on
business excursions; nevertheless such an outing was a treat to which he
looked forward as a sort of Arabian Nights adventure when for a short
time he stayed at a large hotel, ate whatever food pleased his fancy,
and went sight-seeing and to innumerable "shows" with his father. He was
wont to return to Coventry after the holiday with a throng of happy
memories and many a tale of marvels with which to entertain the boys.
Therefore when he and his father boarded the express Thanksgiving week
the lad was in the highest spirits.
"Motor-cars are all very well," observed Mr. Tolman, as the porter
stowed their luggage away, "but on a cold night like this a Pullman car
on a well-laid track is not to be despised. Eh, son?"
"I don't believe that I should want to travel to New York in a
touring-car at this time of year," agreed Stephen, smiling.
"It is getting too late in the season to use an open car, anyway,"
rejoined his father. "I have delayed putting the car up because I have
been hoping we might have a little more warm weather; but I guess the
warm days have gone and the winter has come to stay now."
"But there is no snow yet, Dad."
"No. Still it is too chilly to drive with any comfort. The Taylors
shipped their car off last week and when I get home I shall do the
same."
Stephen looked disappointed.
"I don't mind the cold when I'm wrapped up," he ventured.
"You are not at the wheel, son," was his father's quick retort. "The man
who is has his fingers nipped roundly, I can assure you. It is a pity we
have become so soft and shrink so from discomfort. Think what our
forbears endured when they went on journeys!"
"Neither the English stagecoaches nor Stephenson's railroad could have
been very comfortable, to judge from your descriptions of them," laughed
Steve.
"Oh, don't heap all the blame on the English," his father replied. "Our
own modes of travel in the early days were quite as bad as were those on
the other side of the water."
"I wish you would tell me about the first American railroads," said the
boy. "I was wondering about them the other night."
Mr. Tolman settled back in his seat thoughtfully.
"America," he answered presently, "went through a pioneer period of
railroading not unlike England's. Many strange steam inventions were
tried in different parts of the country, and many fantastic scientific
notions put before the public. Even previous to Watt's steam engine
Oliver Evans had astonished the quiet old city of Philadelphia by
driving through its peaceful streets in a queer steam vehicle, half
carriage and half boat, which he had mounted on wheels. Evans was an
ingenious fellow, a born inventor if ever there was one, who worked out
quite a few steam devices, some of which Watt later improved and
adopted. Then in 1812 John Stevens of New York got interested in the
steam idea and urged the commissioners of his state to build a railroad
between Lake Erie and Albany, suggesting that a steam engine not unlike
the one that propelled the Hudson River ferryboats could be used as
power for the trains. He was enthusiastic over the scheme but the New
York officials had no faith in the proposition, insisting that a steam
locomotive could never be produced that would grip the rails with
sufficient tension to keep cars on the track or draw a heavy load."
"They'd better have given the plan a showdown," interrupted Steve
grimly.
"No doubt that is true," admitted his father. "However, it is very easy
for us, with our knowledge of science, to look back and laugh at their
mistakes. The world was very new in those days and probably had we lived
at that time and been equally ignorant of railroads and engines we
should have been just as cautious and unbelieving. The railroad was
still a young invention, you must remember, and to many persons it
seemed a rather mad, uncertain enterprise."
"When was the first American railroad built?" inquired the lad.
"If by a railroad you mean something which moved along rails like a
tram-car, the first such road was built at Quincy, Mass., in 1826; but
it was not a steam railroad. It was merely a train of cars drawn by
horses along a track that spanned a series of stone ties. Nor was it
very extensive in length. In fact, it was only three miles long and
probably would not have been built at all if the question had not arisen
as to how the heavy blocks of granite necessary for the construction of
Bunker Hill monument were to be carried from the quarries to the
Neponset River, the point from which they were to be shipped to
Charlestown. Bryant, the builder of the road, had heard of Stephenson's
successful use of tracks at the Newcastle coal mines and saw no reason
why a road of similar pattern could not be laid from the quarries to the
ship landing. If such a plan could be worked out, he argued, it would be
a great saving of time and labor. Accordingly the railroad was built at
a cost of more than ten thousand dollars a mile and it unquestionably
performed the service required of it even if it did necessitate the
expenditure of a good deal of money. Since the grade sloped toward the
river the heavily loaded cars moved down the tracks very easily and as
they were empty on their return the ascent was made with equal ease. All
the year round this quaint railroad was in constant use, a snowplow
being attached to the front car in winter to clear the deep snow from
the tracks."
"I suppose that was the first railroad snowplow, too," observed Stephen.
"I suppose it was," his father agreed. "For some time afterward this
old road with its granite ties was the model from which American
engineers took their inspiration, it being many years before railroad
builders realized that wooden ties were more flexible and made a better,
even though less durable roadbed."
"Were any more railroads like the Quincy road built in America?"
questioned Steve.
"Yes, a railroad very much like it was built in the Pennsylvania mining
country to transport coal from the mines at Summit down to the Lehigh
Valley for shipment. An amusing story is told of this railroad, too. It
extended down the mountainside in a series of sharp inclines between
which lay long stretches of level ground. Now you know when you coast
downhill your speed will give you sufficient impetus to carry you quite
a way on a flat road before you come to a stop. So it was with this
railroad. But the force the cars gained on the hillside could not carry
them entirely across these long levels, and therefore platform cars were
built on which a number of mules could be transported and later
harnessed to the cars to pull them across the flat stretches. At the end
of each level the mules would be taken aboard again and carried down to
the next one, where they were once more harnessed to the cars. Now the
tale goes that to the chagrin of the railroad people the mules soon grew
to enjoy riding so much that they had no mind to get out and walk when
the level places were reached and it became almost impossible to make
them. All of which proves the theory I advanced before--that too much
luxury is not good for any of us and will even spoil a perfectly good
mule."
Steve chuckled in response.
"I'm afraid with railroads like these America did not make much
progress," he said.
"No very rapid strides," owned his father. "Nevertheless men were
constantly hammering away at the railroad idea. In out-of-the-way
corners of the country were many persons who had faith that somehow,
they knew not how, the railroad would in time become a practical agency
of locomotion. When the Rainhill contest of engines took place in
England before the opening of the Liverpool-Manchester road, and
Stephenson carried off the prize, Horatio Allen, one of the engineers of
the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company, was sent over to examine the
locomotives competing and if possible buy one for a new railroad they
hoped to put into operation. Unluckily none of the engines were for sale
but he was able to purchase at Stourbridge a steam locomotive and this
he shipped to New York. It reached there in 1829--a ridiculous little
engine weighing only seven tons. Before its arrival a track of hemlock
rails fastened to hemlock ties had been laid and as the Lackawanna River
lay directly in the path of the proposed road a wooden trestle about a
hundred feet high had been built across the river. This trestle was of
very frail construction and calculated to sustain only a four-ton
engine and therefore when the seven-ton locomotive from Stourbridge
arrived and was found to weigh nearly double that specification there
was great consternation."
"Did they tear the trestle down and build another?" asked Steve with
much interest.
Mr. Tolman did not heed the question.
"Now in addition to the disconcerting size of the engine," he continued,
"the wooden rails which had been laid during the previous season had
warped with the snows and were in anything but desirable condition. So
altogether the prospect of trying out the enterprise, on which a good
deal of money had already been spent, was not alone disheartening but
perilous."
"The inspectors or somebody else would have put an end to such a crazy
scheme jolly quick if it had been in our day, wouldn't they?" grinned
the boy.
"Yes, nobody could get very far with anything so unsafe now," his father
responded. "But all this happened before the era of inspectors,
construction laws, or the _Safety First_ slogan. Hence no one interfered
with Horatio Allen. If he chose to break his neck and the necks of many
others as well he was free to do so. Therefore, nothing daunted, he got
up steam in his baby engine, which was the more absurd for having
painted at its front a fierce red lion, and off he started--along his
hemlock railroad. The frail bridge swayed and bent as the locomotive
rumbled over it but by sheer miracle it did not give way and Allen
reached the other side without being plunged to the bottom of the
river."
Steve drew a long breath of relief.
"Did they go on using the railroad after that?" he asked.
His father shook his head.
"No," he replied. "Although every one agreed that the demonstration was
a success the wooden rails were not durable enough to last long and the
company was not rich enough to replace them with metal ones. Therefore,
in spite of Allen's pleas and his wonderful exhibition of courage, the
road fell into disuse, the engine was taken apart, and the enterprise
abandoned."
"What a pity!"
"Yes, it was, for had New York persevered in this undertaking the
railroad might have made its advent in the United States much sooner
than it did. As it was, once again, like a meteor, the experiment
flashed into sight and disappeared with success well within reach."
"And who was the next promoter?"
"Peter Cooper was the next experimenter of note," Mr. Tolman answered,
"and his adventure with railroading was entertaining, too. He lived in
Baltimore and being of a commercial trend of mind he decided that if a
railroad could be built through the Potomac Valley and across the
Alleghany Mountains it might win back for his state the trade that was
rapidly being snatched away by the Erie and Pennsylvania Canal. With
this idea in mind Cooper built thirteen miles of track and after
experimenting with a sort of tram-car and finding it a failure he had a
car made that should be propelled by sails."
"Sails!" gasped Steve.
His father smiled at his astonishment.
"Yes, sails!" he repeated. "Into this strangely equipped vehicle he
invited some of the editors of the Baltimore papers, and little sensing
what was before them the party set forth on its excursion."
"Did the car go?"
"Oh, it went all right!" chuckled Mr. Tolman. "The trouble was not with
its _going_. The difficulty was that as it flew along the rails a cow
suddenly loomed in its pathway and as she did not move out of the way of
the approaching car she and the railroad pioneers came into collision.
With a crash the car toppled over and the editors, together with the
enraged Peter Cooper, were thrown out into the mud. Of course the affair
caused the public no end of laughter but to Cooper and his guests it
proved convincingly that sails were not a desirable substitute for steam
power."
"I suppose Cooper then went to work to build some other kind of a
railroad," mused Steve.
"That is exactly what he did," was the rejoinder. "He did not, however,
do this deliberately but rather fell into a dilemma that left him no
other choice. You see a group of men coaxed him to buy some land
through which it was expected the new Baltimore and Ohio Railroad was to
pass. These prospectors figured that as the road was already started and
a portion of the wooden track laid the railroad was a sure thing, and by
selling their land to the railroad authorities they would be enabled to
turn quite a fortune for themselves. In all good faith Cooper had joined
the company and then, after discovering that the railroad men had
apparently abandoned their plan to build, in dastardly fashion, one
after another of the promoters wriggled out of the enterprise and left
poor Peter Cooper with a large part of his money tied up in a worthless,
partially constructed railroad."
"What a rotten trick!" cried Steve.
"Yes; and yet perhaps Cooper deserved a little chastisement," smiled Mr.
Tolman. "Instead of making money out of other people as he had
intended--"
"He got stung himself!" burst out the boy.
"Practically so, yes," was the reply. "Well, at any rate, there he was
and if he was ever to get back any of his fortune he must demonstrate
that he had profound faith in the partly constructed railroad.
Accordingly he bought a small engine weighing about a ton--"
"One ton!"
"So small that it was christened the 'Tom Thumb.' He now had his wooden
rails and his pygmy engine but was confronted by still another
perplexity. The railroad must pass a very abrupt curve, it was
unavoidable that it should do so--a curve so dangerous that everybody
who saw it predicted that to round it without the engine jumping the
track and derailing the cars behind would be impossible. Poor Peter
Cooper faced a very discouraging problem. There was no gainsaying that
the curve was a bad one; moreover, his locomotive was not so perfect a
product as he might have wished. It had been built under his direction
and consisted of the wee engine he had bought in New York connected with
an iron boiler about the size of an ordinary tin wash boiler; and as no
iron piping was made in America at this time Cooper had taken some old
steel musket barrels as a substitute for tubing. With this crude affair
he was determined to convince the public that a steam railroad was a
workable proposition."
"He had a nerve!"
"It took nerve to live and accomplish anything in those days," returned
Mr. Tolman. "In the first place few persons had fortunes large enough to
back big undertakings; and in addition America was still such a young
country that it had not begun to produce the materials needed by
inventors for furthering any very extensive projects. In fact the world
of progress was, as Kipling says, 'very new and all.' Hence human
ingenuity had to make what was at hand answer the required purpose, and
as a result Peter Cooper's Tom Thumb engine, with its small iron boiler
and its gun-barrel tubing, was set upon the wooden track, and an open
car (a sort of box on wheels with seats in it) was fastened to it. Into
this primitive conveyance the guests invited for the occasion clambered.
Ahead lay the forbidding curve. Stephenson, the English engineer, had
already stated mathematically the extreme figure at which a curve could
be taken and the locomotive still remain on the track, and Peter Cooper
was well aware that the curve he must make was a far worse one. However,
it would never do for him to betray that he had any misgivings.
Therefore, together with his guests, he set out on his eventful trip
which was either to demolish them all, or convince the dignitaries of
the railroad company that not only was a steam railroad practical but
that the Baltimore and Ohio Road was a property valuable enough to be
backed by capital."
Steve leaned forward, listening eagerly to the story.
"Slowly the little engine started, and nearer and nearer came the
terrible curve. The train was now running at fifteen miles an hour, a
speed almost unbelievable to the simple souls of that time. Round the
curve it went in safety, increasing its velocity to eighteen miles an
hour. The railroad officials who were Cooper's guests were frantic with
enthusiasm. One man produced paper and pencil and begged those present
to write their names, just to prove that it was possible to write even
when flying along at such a meteoric rate of speed. Another man jotted
down a few sentences to demonstrate that to think and write connected
phrases were things that could be done, in spite of the fact that one
was dashing through space with this unearthly rapidity."
"So the railroad men were converted, were they?"
"They were more than converted; they were exultant," said his father.
"Of course it was some time after this before the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad became a reality. Capital had to be raised and the project
stably launched."
"Oh, then this was not the first railroad in the country, after all,"
observed the boy in a disappointed tone.
"No. South Carolina boasts the first regular passenger locomotive
propelled by steam," returned Mr. Tolman. "This road ran from Charleston
to Hamburg and although a charter was obtained for it in 1827 it took
all the first year to lay six miles of track. In fact it was not until
1830 that the railroad began to be operated to any extent. When it was,
a locomotive, every part of which had been produced in this country, was
employed to draw the trains. This was the first steam locomotive of
American make in history. It was dubbed 'The Best Friend' and, like the
engines that had preceded it, had a series of interesting adventures.
Since it was the only locomotive in the possession of the road and was
in use all day any repairs on the hard-worked object had to be made at
night."
"Humph!" ejaculated Stephen.
"Nevertheless 'The Best Friend' might have gone on its way prosperously
had it not been for the ignorance of those who ran it. The engineer, to
be sure, understood more or less about a steam locomotive although he
was none too wise; but the fireman, unfortunately, understood next to
nothing, and one day, on being left alone in the cab and seeing the
steam escaping from the safety valve, he conceived the notion that a
leak was causing unnecessary waste. Therefore he securely screwed up the
space through which the steam had been issuing, and to make prevention
more certain he himself, a large and heavy man, sat down on the escape
valve."
"And presto!" exclaimed Steve, rubbing his hands.
"Exactly so! Presto, indeed! Figuratively speaking, he blew sky-high and
'The Best Friend' with him," replied Mr. Tolman. "It was an unfortunate
happening, too, for people were still ill-informed about the uses of
steam and very nervous about its mysterious power and this accident only
served to make them more so. For some time afterward many persons
refused to patronize the railroad in spite of all the authorities could
do to soothe them. In time, however, the public calmed down, although in
order to reassure them it was found necessary to put a car heaped with
bales of cotton between them and the engine, not only to conceal the
monster from their view but also to convince them that it was some
distance away. Whether they also had a vague notion that in case they
went skyward the cotton might soften their fall when they came down, I
do not know."
"Railroading certainly had its troubles, didn't it?" Steve commented
with amusement.
"It certainly had, especially in our own country," was the reply. "In
England Stephenson and other experimenters like him had materials at
hand which to some extent served their purpose; moreover, thanks to Watt
and other inventors, there were definite scientific ideas to work from.
But in America the successful railroad which might serve as a model was
unknown. Therefore for some time English engines continued to be shipped
across the sea, and even then it was a long time before our American
engineers understood much about their mechanism. Only by means of
repeated experiments, first in one part of the country and then in
another, did our American railroads, so marvelous in their construction,
come into being."
Mr. Tolman paused a moment, yawned, and then rose and beckoned to the
porter.
"We still have much to perfect in our modern railroad, however," he said
with a touch of humor. "The sleeping car, for example, is an
abomination, as you are speedily to have proved to you. Here, porter!
We'd like these berths made up. I guess we'd better turn in now, son.
You have had enough railroading for one day and are tired. You must get
a rest and be in the pink of condition to-morrow for, remember, you are
going to wake up in New York."
"If it will make to-morrow come any quicker I am quite ready to go to
bed," retorted Stephen, with a sleepy smile.