To catch an idea of the responsibility of a locomotive engineer, it is necessary to ride a hundred miles or so in an engine.  The author was given this privilege on a bleak, frosty day, early last winter.  He was told by the officials that he took the ride at his own risk, and as a matter of personal favor, and that he must not interfere with the engineer or fireman in the execution of their duties.  The guest was received kindly by both engineer and fireman, and was given a seat whence he could see along expanse of track over which the locomotive had to draw the train of cars.  To a novice the sensation of a first ride on a locomotive is a very singular one, and to say that there is no tinge of fear intermingled with the excitement and pleasure, would be to make a statement not borne out by fact.  On the occasion referred to, the train was a special one, carrying a delegation half way across the continent.  It was about fifteen minutes late, and in order to make the run to the next division point it was necessary to maintain an average speed of more than forty-five miles an hour.  As is almost always the case, when there is need for exceptional hurry, all sorts of trifling delays occurred, and several precious minutes were wasted before a start could be made.

Finally, the conductor gives the necessary word, the engineer pulls the lever, and the irregular passenger finds for the first time in his life how much more difficult it is to start a locomotive than he ever imagined.

First, there is a distinct tremble on the huge locomotive.  Then there comes a loud hiss, with a heavy escape of steam, as the huge pistons tug and pull at the heavy wheels, which slip round and round and fail to grip the rail.  Then, as gradually scientific power overcomes 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.”