A TRIBUTE TO THE ENGINE DRIVER.

"The feeling of a Newport cabman when his horse runs away."

I have the greatest admiration for engine drivers, particularly those on the Great Western Railway, on which line I travel most. I have often wondered at the admirable manner in which they stop and start their trains. Mr. Gladstone once said that he could understand the mind of a great historian like Gibbon, or of a great poet, like Milton, Byron, or Wordsworth, but that he could not understand the formation of the mind of a man who wrote poems and plays like Shakespeare. Personally, I cannot understand the mind of an engine driver on an express train. I have been myself, in some very disagreeable positions, and have had some very nasty half minutes. Not very long ago I found myself underneath my horse in a muddy ditch and the half minutes I spent in waiting for a friendly hand to drag me out, and in wondering whether assistance would come before I was suffocated, were very unpleasant ones. Only a fortnight ago, too, a gentleman was driving me in a light vehicle down a narrow roadway when we saw a runaway horse attached to a lorry galloping towards us. It seemed as if there was nothing for it but for us to be knocked into the proverbial cocked-hat. However, our vehicle was drawn very close to the side and the runaway just cleared us. I can understand, too, the feeling of a man driving four horses when they run away with him, because that has happened to myself; or the feeling of a Newport cabman when his horse runs away. But I cannot understand the feeling of sustained courage on the part of a driver of an express engine with his train going at 60 miles an hour through the darkness of the night, perhaps in a storm of snow or sleet. To use a pretty strong expression, it must be like "hell with the lid off." Those who travel on railways ought to think more of the responsibilities which rest on railway employees.

Railwaymen's Dinner, April 21st, 1908.