omes brute
force, there is a forward motion of a scarcely perceptible character.
Then, as the sand-box is brought into requisition, the wheels distinctly
bite the rail, and, in the words of the race-track, "They're off." For a
few seconds progress is very slow, indeed. Then the good work of the
trusted locomotive becomes apparent, and before we are well out of the
yards quite a good speed is being obtained. The fireman is busy ringing
the bell, and the engineer, from time to time, adds to the warning noise
by one of those indescribable toots made only by a steam engine.

Now we are outside the city limits, and the train is making excellent
time. We take out our watch and carefully time the speed between two
mile-posts, to ascertain that about seventy seconds were occupied in
covering the distance. Regardless of our instructions we mention this
fact to the fireman, who has just commenced to throw a fresh supply of
coal on to the roaring fire, adding a word of congratulation.

"Why, that's nothing," he replies, laughing, "we are going up grade now.
Wait until we get along the level or go down grade, and we will show you
a mile away inside of sixty."

We are not particularly glad to hear this. Already the locomotive is
rocking a good deal more than is quite pleasant to the uninitiated, and
the contrast between the hard seat and the pleasant one at our disposal
in the Pullman car is becoming more and more obvious. Just as we are
wondering how it will be possible to preserve one's equilibrium while
going around a curve in the distance, a cow strays sheepishly on to the
track, apparently some 200 yards ahead. The engineer plays a tune with
his whistle, and the cow proceeds to trot down the track in front of us.
That singularly misnamed appendage, the cow-catcher, strikes her
amidships. She is thrown twenty feet in the air, and all that is left of
her rolls into the ditch by the side of the track.

For the moment we had forgotten George Stephenson's reply to the member
of the British Parliament, who asked him what would happen in the event
of a cow getting in front of one of the trains George was proposing to
run, if necessary powers could be obtained. His reply, which has long
since become historical, was that it would be very bad for the cow. We
remembered this, and agreed with the pioneer railroad man when we saw
the unfortunate bovine turn a quadruple somersault and terminate her
existence in less than a second. But a m