Those who have traveled much on the Little Miami Railroad, must have
noticed a little old fellow, with grizzled locks and an unpoetical
stoop of the shoulders, who whisks about his engine with all the
activity of a cat, and whom the railroad men all call "Uncle Jimmy."
That is old Jimmy Wiggins, an engineer of long standing and well known.
I believe Uncle Jimmy learned the machinists' trade with Eastwick &
Harrison, in Philadelphia; at all events he has been railroading for a
long time, and has been always noted for his carefulness and vigilance.
Let me attempt to describe him. He is about five feet four inches in
height, stoop-shouldered and short-legged. His hair is iron-gray, and
his face would be called any thing but beautiful. He has, though, a
clear blue eye that looks straight and firmly into yours with an
honest and never-flinching expression, that at once convinces you that
he is a "game" man. Not very careful about his dress is old Jimmy;
grease spots abound on all his clothing, and his hands are usually
begrimed with the marks of his trade. In short, Uncle Jimmy is any
thing but a romantic-looking fellow, and a novelist would hesitate
long before taking him as the hero of a romance; but the old man is
a hero, and under that rough, yet placid exterior, there beats a
heart that never cools, and a will that never flinches. We go back
into the history of the past ages to find our heroes, and them we
almost worship, but I question whether the whole history of the world
furnishes a better example of self-sacrificing heroism, than this same
rough and unromantic looking Jimmy Wiggins. It is not the casket that
gives value to the jewel; it is the jewel gives value to all. So with
Uncle Jimmy; rough he looks, but the heart he has makes him an honor to
the race, and deserving of our praise. I'll tell you now why I think so.
Uncle Jimmy was running a train that laid by on the switch at Spring
Valley for the Up Express to pass. He got there on time, and the
express being a little behind time, the old man took advantage of the
time to oil around. The whistle of the up train was heard, but he
paid no heed thereto, for it was to pass without stopping. The fellow
who attended to the switch stood there at his post. Uncle Jimmy was
coolly at work, when a shriek from the conductor called his attention,
and looking up, he saw what would frighten and unnerve almost any
one. The stupid fool at the switch had thrown it wide open, and the
express was already on the branch, coming too at the rate of thirty
miles an hour--thirty feet in the beat of your pulse--and his train
loaded with passengers stood there stock-still. That was a time to try
the stuff a man was made of; ordinary men would have shrunk from the
task, and run from the scene. Your lily-handed, romantic gentry would
have failed then, but homely old Jimmy Wiggins rose superior to the
position, and, unromantic though he looks, proved a hero. No flinch in
him. What though two hundred tons of matter was being hurled at him,
fifty feet in the second?--what though the chances for death for him
were a thousand to one for safety? No tremor in that brave old heart,
no nerveless action in that strong arm. He leaped on to the engine,
and with his charge met the shock; but his own engine was reversed,
and under motion backwards when the other train struck it. It all
took but an instant of time, but in that moment old Jimmy Wiggins
concentrated more of true courage than many a man gets into in a
lifetime of seventy years. The collision was frightful; iron and wood
were twisted and jammed together as if they were rotten straw. Charley
Hunt, the engineer of the other train, was instantly killed; passengers
were wounded; terror, fright and pain held sway. Death was there, and
all stood back appalled at what had occurred; yet all shuddered more
to think of what would have been the result had Old Jimmy's engine
stood still, and all felt a trembling anxiety for his fate, for surely,
thought they, "in that wreck his life must have been the sacrifice to
his bravery;" but out of the mass, as cool, as calm as when running on
a straight track, crawled Uncle Jimmy, unhurt. He still runs on the
same road, and long may his days be, and happy.