gher speeds
than we have at present involves more than boiler power and strength of
machinery and the swiftness of turning wheels--it involves the question
of human endurance. We can build engines that will run a hundred and
fifty miles an hour, but where shall we find the men to drive them?
Already we have nearly reached the limit of what eyes and nerves can
endure. I guess we'll have to find a new race of men to handle these
'locomotives of the future' that they talk so much about."

He went on to consider the chance of color-blindness in an engineer, and
told how the men's eyes are regularly tested by experts, who put before
them skeins of various-colored yarns, and make them pick out green from
red, and so on. It is not pleasant to think what might happen if an
engineer's eyes should suddenly fail him, and he should mistake the
danger light for safety and go ahead at some critical moment instead of
stopping. Nor does one like to fancy what might happen if an engineer
should go mad at his post.

"I know one case where an engineer _did_ go mad," remarked a
superintendent. "He was one of our most experienced men, and had held
the throttle for years on the fastest trains. Then, one Sunday, for no
reason at all, he went to the round-house, got out the 'pony'
locomotive--that's the one fixed up with a little parlor over the
boiler, and easy-chairs and polished wood--it makes a pretty
observation-car for big officials. Well, he got her out and started
lickety-split up the main line, running wild and without orders. He
stopped at Mott Haven, and told the men he wanted the 'pony' rebuilt and
silver-plated--crazy as a loon, you see. Yes, he's in the asylum now,
poor fellow; that was his last run."

After this one of the group gave his memories of the famous speed trial
on the Lake Shore road, when five locomotives in relays, driven by
picked men, set out to beat all records in a run of 510 miles from
Chicago to Buffalo. This was in October, 1895, and I suppose such
elaborate preparations for a dash over the rails were never made. All
traffic was suspended for the passage of this racing special; every
railroad crossing between Chicago and Buffalo was patrolled by a
section-man--that alone meant thirteen hundred guards; and every switch
was spiked half an hour before the train was due. The chief officials of
the Lake Shore road proposed to ride this race in person, and, if
possible, smash the New York Central's then recent w