“So Sumach Junction had its place in the world, and, perhaps, it was a more important one than that of many a complacent and opulent suburb.  The heart of this little community did not center, as a thoughtless person might suppose, in the church, or the commandery, or the grocery store, or the school, but in the signal tower.  It was the pulse of the section.  It was the life-blood of thousands of unconcerned travelers, whose lives and happiness depended on the intelligent vigilance of three men.  These three took turns up there in the tower, locking and unlocking switches and signals until one might expect them to faint for dizziness and confusion.  It was no uncommon thing in the signal tower, when one of the three wanted a day off, for the other two to double up on twelve-hour shifts.  As long as the service was well performed, the Superintendent asked no questions.”

The story came to be written on account of the prolonged sickness of one of the three, which compelled the remaining two to remain on duty until their eyes were often dim, and their brain power exhausted.  One of these finally worked until nature overcame force of habit and reliability, and a collision would have resulted but for the returning consciousness of the overworked and thoroughly exhausted man.

While this hero of everyday life slept, or rather lost the power of thought from extreme exhaustion, the heavy snow storm which was making the night doubly dark had so blocked the machinery of the semaphore that it refused to respond to the desperate efforts of the weary signal man, who heard a freight train approaching, and knew that unless it was flagged at once it would dash into the rear end of a passenger train, which was standing in sight of the signal box, with its locomotive disabled.  Finally, abandoning the attempt to move the lever, he rushed out into the night and forced his way through the snow in the direction of the approaching train.  He was in time to avert the collision that appeared inevitable, but in his excitement overlooked his own danger, and was knocked down and terribly injured by the train he flagged.

Within the last year the largest railroad station in the world, in the yards of which there is an immense amount of traffic, and from whose signal towers are worked switches and signals innumerable, has been opened.  This immense station is situated at St. Louis.  It covers an area of about twelve acres, and is larger than the two magnificent depots of Philadelphia combined.  The second largest railroad station in the world is at Frankfort, Germany.  The third in order of size is the Reading Station at Philadelphia.  The four next largest being the Pennsylvania Depot at Philadelphia, St. Pancras Station in London, England, the Pennsylvania Depot in Jersey City, and the Grand Central Depot in New York City.