And so the lone human at his
station in a cab, guarding money, lives, and the honor of the road, is a
beautiful sight. The whole thing is aesthetic. The fireman presents the
same charm, but in a less degree, in that he is bound to appear as an
apprentice to the finished manhood of the driver. In his eyes, turned
always in question and confidence toward his superior, one finds this
quality; but his aspirations are so direct that one sees the same type
in evolution.
There may be a popular idea that the fireman's principal function is to
hang his head out of the cab and sight interesting objects in the
landscape. As a matter of fact, he is always at work. The dragon is
insatiate. The fireman is continually swinging open the furnace-door,
whereat a red shine flows out upon the floor of the cab, and shoveling
in immense mouthfuls of coal to a fire that is almost diabolic in its
madness. The feeding, feeding, feeding goes on until it appears as if it
is the muscles of the fireman's arms that are speeding the long train.
An engine running over sixty-five miles an hour, with 500 tons to drag,
has an appetite in proportion to this task.
View of the clear-shining English scenery is often interrupted between
London and Crew by long and short tunnels. The first one was
disconcerting. Suddenly one knew that the train was shooting toward a
black mouth in the hills. It swiftly yawned wider, and then in a moment
the engine dived into a place inhabitated by every demon of wind and
noise.
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