A PAST RIDE.

Patea Mail, Volume IX, Issue 1096, 8 October 1883, Page 4

A PAST RIDE.

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[Once a year the governor of every State in* the Union/sends a message lo the Legislature. It generally occupies fonrorifive.columns of the papers 1 next day, but ; nobody ever reads itj; except the propf render. Yet the papers: must have itV ' Wheh 1 Mr’Chas B. Lewis, the Celebrated'’ M. 1 Quad," was a legislative reporter for the Free Press something Went wrong with the wires, and he found it impossible to telegraph , the goyornpr’smessage. He accordingly hired an engine and rode against time lo meet the lightning express for Detroit. Of coarse the railway in those days had not the smoothness of the English roads, and the speed wnS then'something unprecedented. j ;Herc, follows jM.' Qtiaxrs description of his.ride taken from an old number bf'Vh q Detroit Free Press.'] Z-z-z-z-'z z 1 A monster of iron, steel, ahd^brass- 5 standing on Ihe slim, iron ratis nway from the station fOr'half 'a’milc and thcii lose themselves in the green forest. . * Yhe7..vdriring;" V^e.lsslowly' the monster breathes great clouds of steam and seems anxious for theyace* ... ■ :■.■„■. VA grizziy-haired engineer looks down from the cab-window, while his fireman, pulls back the iron door arid heaves in more wood—more" breath and muscle for the grim giant of the track.* 1 The fire roars and crackles, the steam hisses and growls, every breath is drawn as fiercely as if the giant was burning to revenge an insult..: Up-T-up-T-ap 1 r**- -The. pointer on the steam ghage moves faster than the; minute hand p.n.-a, clpck# . , The breathing becomes lender, the' hiss rises to a scream, the iron rails tremble and quiver. ' * Climb up !’ ~~. . rr , , : r It be race'against-time apdlthe telegraph. ‘ i a * S-s-s-sh-H ■ * - ' s . '■■■ The engineerTpse up, looked ahead/ glanced’al : the dial/nhd as his fingers clasped the tTiirPtiUeh^ajske'iithe stationagent ; ‘ Are,you sure the,.track is.clear ?’ . e 1 answer. The throttle feels the pull, .the giant. niters s jft fierce scream, and we; are off,/I on tfie i ßremftn*B seat, the fireman oh the

wood. The rails ns slowly—faster, 'and 1 the g iaht screhmangaih and dashes'into the foiest. Th^telegraph poles dttuce past as -if not over thirty feel apart; and 1 the board fence; seems to rise from the. ground, but it’s only thirtyfive miles an.hour. . ! .. ?‘WoodT V -The engineer takes'his eyes off the trfick atid turns just long enough to speak the word to his fireman. The iron door swings-back, and there is an awful rush,and roar of flame. The firebox appears fall,;lnt stick after stick is dropped into-the roaring pit until a quarter of;a cord has disappeared. -‘ This is forty miles an hour/ shouts the fireman in piy. ear as he rubs the moisture from his heated face. Yes,? this is faster. ' The fence-posts seem to leap from tbe ground as we dashalong, and: the telegraph poles bend and ' nod to ns; A house—a field—a farm we getybutspneg;lance/> (A: dozen bouses —a , hundred faces-^-that-was a station. We heard a yell from the, crowd, but it scarcely: reached ius J before it was drowned in the great roar. INirier. miles fn fourteen minutes; we’ve lost time. The‘engineer fakes his eyes from ; the rail, makes a;-mption to his fireman, and : the sticks 1 drop info the roaring flames again, to make hew flames?;?,;’?,,?;'' ? ;/ '?,?' Seven miles of clear track now, and the engineer smiles a grim smile as he lets more steam into the giant’s lungs. Ah 1 Not a mile a minute yet, bat how we shake Jrom side to side—how the tender leaps and bounds. Is there a fence skirting the track ? There is a dark line keeping pace with Us; it may be a feuce. Where are the telegraph poles? Were;?all those trees falling toward the track as we dashed through the bit of forest. ? A yell—hbnsbs—faces—that was another statibn. Wqfd, has gone down the line that a “ wild” locomotive is rushing the country to catch the lightning express on another'road? and the people gather tb see us dash past.' ’Seven miles in eight and a half minutes ; that’s better, but we must run - faster. The finger on the dial creeps slowly tjp —we 1 want a reserve of* steam for the last twelye of road—the best track of all. The noise is deafening—*the swaying and- bumping is. terrible,. ?. .1. bang fast to the seat —clutch, cling and yet, it seetftrasif-1 xniist: be "shaken; |to the floor. ■ Every moment.there is a,scream from the whistled Every two or three minutes the engineer makes a gesture which calls for the iron door to be opened and the roaring, leaping flames to be fed anew. Houses—faces—a yell—that was another station. We made the last five miles in six ininnteiSi Did you ever ride a mile in one minute and twelve seconds ? - But we were to beat it. Dike a bird, like an arrow, like a bullet almost, we speed forward. Half a dozen men, beside the track—section men with their hand-car. They lift their hats and yell, but their voices do not reach it. We pass them as lightningflashes through the heavens. That was aTarmhouse. We saw nothing but a white object, a green spot, two or three apple trees where there was a largo orchard. Scream, hiss, roar, shake, quiver, bound 1 We are going to stop; going to halt for an instant at a station to see if the track is clear for the rush—for a mile a minute and faster. Scream I Scream I The station is a mile ahead ; it is beside us. The fireman leaps down with his oil-can, the engineer enters the telegraph office. Both are back in fifteen a conds.

Twelveand a-half miles togo ; twelve minutes in which to make it. ‘ We can do it/ said the engineer. ‘ Hold fast now. We have been running ; we are going, to fly.’ Scream !. • ‘Good-bye.’ Asa rnad horse runs,' as an arrow is sent,’ as the carrier-pigeon .flies. .' Yes, ; this is ft mile a minute.; Fences ? No ; only a black line, hardly larger than my pencil, Trees ? . No; only one. tree, i all merged irito, one , single tree, which ■ was out of ’sight m/a. flash. Fields ? Yes; one broad, field, ..broken for an instant, by a highway-rr-a grey thread lying on the ground. : T It is terrible. If we should leave the j rails. -If—-but’ don’t think of it.' Hold ’fast. ;-■ ' ! ■ .Eight miles in eight minutes,, pot, a isecohd more or less. The : lightning; itrayels faster. So- docs a .locomotive. | Foil r . an, d .a*h a 1 f ; miles : t o t go,; j four Iminutes to make .aU- We;:must* run hj mile every fifty-three seconds. : Scream, sway, tremble 1 .' We are making lime, but: great heavens ! it is awful- —•this*, roar,. ,th[s ■oscillation. ; .f . . | One mile, pTwo aides.*a; ! ~l;dare mot open ray eyes. I would !not look ahead on the tr.ack T for all, the igold eveYnhhed. iH:! ;i ’ s *’ " | Throe miles. ' Can l ever hear again ? Will I ever getthis deafening roar out ■of my ears ? Will the seconds ever go by? Scream.* The engineer shuts off steam-;—the fireman' hurrahs- 1 open my eyesf—we are at the station. The lightning.express is two; seconds away. | * X told yon, said - the fengineeiy —and jdidn’t I ddIR?V !■ U * i He did, but he carried three lives in the palm of the hand that grasped the throttle/ * • * i