Part 11 (2/2)

Here Garvie took occasion to explain that steel rails, although very expensive, were now being extensively used in preference to iron rails, because they lasted much longer. ”For instance,” he said, ”steel costs about 12 pounds a ton and iron only costs about 7 pounds; but then, d'ye see, steel rails will last two years and more, whereas iron rails get wore out, and have to be renewed every six weeks in places where there's much traffic.”

”Now, I can't stand no more o' this,” said Mrs Marrot, down whose face the perspiration was streaming; ”I'm a'most roasted alive, an' don't understand your explanations one bit, Willum, so come along.”

”Oh, mother, _do_ hold on a moment,” pleaded Bob, whose mechanical soul was in a species of paradise.

”You'd better come, Bob,” interposed Garvie, ”else we won't have time to see the department where the engines are fitted.”

This was sufficient for Bob, who willingly followed.

The fitting shed at that time contained several engines in various stages of advancement. In one place men were engaged in fitting together the iron framework or foundation of a locomotive, with screws, and bolts, and nuts, and rivets. Others were employed near them, on an engine more advanced, in putting on the wheels and placing the boilers and fire-boxes, while another gang were busy covering the boiler of a third engine with a coating of wood and felt, literally for the purpose of keeping it warm, or preventing its heat from escaping. Farther on, three beautiful new engines, that had just been made and stood ready for action, were receiving a few finis.h.i.+ng touches from the painters.

Fresh, spotless, and glittering, these were to make their _debut_ on the morrow, and commence their comparatively brief career of furious activity--gay things, doomed emphatically to a fast life! Beyond these young creatures lay a number of aged and crippled engines, all more or less disabled and sent there for repair; one to have a burst steam-pipe removed and replaced, another to have a wheel, or a fire-box or a cylinder changed; and one, that looked as if it had recently ”run a-muck” against all the other engines on the line, stood sulkily grim in a corner, evidently awaiting its sentence of condemnation,--the usual fate of such engines being to be torn, bored, battered, chiselled, clipt, and otherwise cut to pieces, and cast into the furnaces.

While gazing round this apartment, Mrs Marrot's eyes suddenly became transfixed.

”Wot's the matter _now_?” demanded Bob, in some alarm.

”I _do_ believe--w'y--there's a locomotive _in the air_!” said Mrs Marrot in an undertone.

”So it is!” exclaimed Bob.

And, reader, so it was. In that shed they had a crane which rested on a framework overhead, and ran on wheels over the entire shop. It was capable of lifting above fifty tons' weight and as a large locomotive, ponderous though it be, is not much over twenty tons, of course this giant crane made short work of such. When the men have occasion to remove a wheel from the iron horse, not being able to make it lift up its leg, so to speak, to have it taken off, they bring it under the crane, swing it up as a little boy might swing a toy-cart, and operate on it at their leisure.

Mrs Marrot felt an unpleasant sensation on beholding this. As the wife of an engine-driver, she had long felt the deepest respect, almost amounting to reverence, for locomotives, in regard to the weight, speed, and irresistible power of which she had always entertained the most exalted ideas. To see one of the race--and that too, of the largest size--treated in this humiliating fas.h.i.+on was too much for her, she declared that she had seen enough of the ”works,” and wouldn't on any account remain another minute!

”But you won't go without seein' the carriage and truck department, surely?” said Bob.

”Well, I'll just take a look to please _you_,” said the amiable woman.

Accordingly, to the truck and van department they went, and there Bob, whose mind was sharp as a needle, saw a good many pieces of mechanism, which formerly he had only seen in a transition state, now applied to their ultimate uses. The chiselled, sawn, and drilled planks seen in the first department, were here being fitted and bolted together in the form of trucks, while the uses of many strange pieces of iron, which had puzzled him in the blacksmiths' department, became obvious when fitted to their appropriate woodwork. Here, also, he saw the internal machinery of railway carriages laid bare, especially the position and shape of the springs that give elasticity to the buffers, which, he observed, were just the same in shape as ordinary carriage springs, placed so that the ends of the buffer-rods pressed against them.

But all this afforded no gratification to Mrs Marrot, whose sensitive mind dwelt uneasily on the humiliated locomotive, until she suddenly came on a row of new first-cla.s.s carriages, where a number of people were employed stuffing cus.h.i.+ons.

”Well, I declare,” she exclaimed, ”if here ain't cus.h.i.+on-stuffing going on! I expect we shall come to coat-and-s.h.i.+ft-making for porters and guards, next!”

”No, we haven't got quite that length yet,” laughed Will Garvie; ”but if you look along you'll see gilding, and glazing, and painting going on, at that first-cla.s.s carriage. Still farther along, in the direction we're going, is the infirmary.”

”The infirmary, Willum!”

”Ay, the place where old and damaged trucks and carriages are sent for repair. They're all in a bad way, you see,--much in need o' the doctor's sar'vices.”

This was true. Looking at some of these unfortunates, with crushed-in planks, twisted buffers and general dismemberment, it seemed a wonder that they had been able to perform their last journey, or crawl to the hospital. Some of the trucks especially might have been almost said to look diseased, they were so dirty, while at the corners, where address cards were wont to be affixed, they appeared to have broken out in a sort of small-pox irruption of iron tackets.

At last Mrs Marrot left the ”works,” declaring that her brain was ”whirling worser than was the wheels and machinery they had just left,”

while Bob a.s.severated stoutly that his appet.i.te for the stupendous had only been whetted. In this frame of mind the former went home to nurse her husband, and the latter was handed over to his future master, the locomotive superintendent of the line.

Reader, it is worth your while to visit such works, to learn what can be done by the men whom you are accustomed to see, only while trooping home at meal hours, with dirty garments and begrimed hands and faces--to see the grandeur as well as the delicacy of their operations, while thus labouring amongst din and dust and fire, to provide _you_ with safe and luxurious locomotion. We cannot indeed, introduce you to the particular ”works” we have described; but if you would see something similar, hie thee to the works of our great arterial railways,--to those of the London and North-Western, at Crewe; the Great Western, at Swindon; the South-eastern, at Ashford; the Great Northern, at Doncaster; the North British, at Cowlairs; the Caledonian, at Glasgow, or any of the many others that exist throughout the kingdom, for in each and all you will see, with more or less modification, exactly the same amazing sights that were witnessed by worthy Mrs Marrot and her hopeful son Bob, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, when they visited the pre-eminently great Clatterby ”works” of the Grand National Trunk Railway.

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