The day when an engineer could drive his train ahead at full
speed, at his own discretion, and make up as much lost time
as the recklessness of his daring permitted, has passed with
the romantic age of railroading. No longer does he gamble thus
with death to win back minutes. A cool-nerved human machine
sits in an office miles away and tells him exactly how fast he
may go. Mute signals stretch out their arms to him by day or
glow red-eyed at night along the track and halt him if he rides
too fast or if there is danger ahead. At intervals of from a
thousand feet to five miles there are towers with men in them
who note the minute and second of his passing, and telegraph it
forward and back over the line. Nowadays the engineer is rarely
out of touch with possible orders for more than a few minutes
at a time. In place of the daring and the old speed madness
that used to characterize the making up of time, the man who
lasts the longest now in the cab is the one who possesses the
calculating skill developed by long experience. He accomplishes
much more simply by taking advantage of every trifle in winning
back his time second by second.--THADDEUS S. DAYTON,
_Harper’s Weekly_.
(2465)
* * * * *
It is said to be scarcely possible to induce working men engaged in
dangerous employments to take the most rudimentary precautions against
disease and accident. The knife-grinder neglects his mask, the collier
his lamp; they are ingenious in evading the regulations framed for
their safety.
Similarly in our recklessness and presumption we ignore the
things which are designed to secure the safety of our character,
the peace of our soul. Let us be sure that we prize those
manifold and gracious arrangements by which God seeks to save
us from the power of evil, that we profit by them to the
utmost.--W. L. WATKINSON, “The Transfigured Sackcloth.”
(2466)
Probably the greatest menace to the safety of navigation
at sea is the fog. Modern steamships are seldom endangered
by the severest storms, but when the impenetrable envelop
of mist encloses a vessel, she is exposed to the most
terrible of perils--a collision at sea. A single ship may be
comparatively safe even in a fog, but when there are a fleet
of vessels the danger is greatly multiplied. In addition to
the customary fog-horns and sirens a fleet of war-ships often
will keep informed of their relative positions by the firing
of signal-guns from the flagship. Another excellent method
generally employed is the use of the fog-buoy.
Each vessel in a warship fleet carries a fog-buoy, a large cask
painted a bright red. This is cast overboard at the first sign
of any fog and floats from the stern of the vessel attached by
a rope of grass fiber which does not sink beneath the surface
of the water. Sufficient rope is paid out by each vessel, so
that its fog-buoy floats at the bow of the ship next astern--two
cable’s-length (four hundred yards) when in close order and
double that distance in open order. By this means the exact
stations of the individual ships of a fleet are maintained
even tho proceeding at a moderate rate of speed.--_Harper’s
Weekly._
(2467)