you are fond of engines, and like to "pat"
them, as I do, you will notice that the cranks and piston-rods work
outside the wheels, not between them, and underneath the boiler, as in
the Great Western engines. You will have just time to look at the wheels
and the name when the man on the platform will wave his flag, and the
"Irishman" will start very gently. As we are quite invisible, we just
step up beside the driver as the engine moves, and he knows nothing
about us. Ha! ha! Mr. Driver; but we intend to know something about your
"Wild Irishman!"

Our driver and fireman ("stoker," perhaps you call the latter) are very
great men. They have a great deal done for them. Do you think they light
the fire and polish the engine? Do you think they go and take in coal
and water at Crewe, or elsewhere, while they wait for a "return" train?
Oh dear no! Another pair of men are ready, and our "mail-men" go and sit
in the drivers' "cabin" and have their tea, and chat till the train is
ready to start again.

It is not at all a bad position, though a very responsible one, to be an
engine-driver on the London and North-Western Railway, particularly when
you have worked yourself up to the "top of the tree." I could tell you
many anecdotes of this railway, on which I lived for many years; but we
must not forget the "Wild Irishman" has run through Camden Town, and is
even now in the Primrose Hill tunnel.

It is very unpleasant being in a tunnel for the first time on an engine.
The noise is very great, and the smoke and water come down at times
unpleasantly. The end of the tunnel looks so tiny in the sunlight
beyond, and the opening gradually gets larger and larger till the engine
rushes out into the pure air again!

On we go! Stopping for a few minutes at Willesden Junction, our Irish
horse pulls harder, and bolts with us for Rugby and some intermediate
stations. It is just half-past seven a.m., a beautiful day. There is
Harrow on the left, we can see the well-known spire, and we recall the
days when we came up for the cricket-match against Eton, and how we all
went back in a body after the match.

Before we reach Watford, we come to the peculiar water arrangement by
which the thirsty engines are enabled to have a drink as they rush
along. Between the rails for a considerable distance is a tank, and into
this tank a pipe is let down from the tender of the engine. The speed at
which the train travels causes the water to be forced up the