or otherwise, was in his opinion unfit to
run. These are but a few specimens culled from a multitude of rules
bearing on the minutest details of his duty as to driving, shunting,
signalling, junction and level crossing, etcetera, with all of which he
had to become not merely acquainted, but so intimately familiar that his
mind could grasp them collectively, relatively, or individually at any
moment, so as to act instantaneously, yet coolly, while going like a
giant bomb-shell through the air--with human lives in the balance to add
weight to his responsibilities.

If any man in the world needed a cool clear head and a quick steady
hand, with ample nightly as well as Sabbath rest, that man was John
Marrot, the engine-driver. When we think of the constant pressure of
responsibility that lay on him, and the numbers in the kingdom of the
class to which he belonged, it seems to us almost a standing miracle
that railways are so safe and accidents so very rare.

While our engine-driver was harnessing his iron steed, another of the
railway servants, having eaten his dinner, felt himself rather sleepy,
and resolved to have a short nap. It was our friend Sam Natly, the
porter, who came to this unwise as well as unfair resolution. Yet
although we are bound to condemn Sam, we are entitled to palliate his
offence and constrained to pity him, for his period of duty during the
past week had been fifteen hours a day.

"Shameful!" exclaims some philanthropist.

True, but who is to take home the shame? Not the officers of the
company, who cannot do more than their best with the materials laid to
their hands; not the directors, who cannot create profits beyond the
capacity of their line--although justice requires us to admit that they
might reduce expenses, by squabbling less with other companies, and
ceasing unfair, because ruinous as well as ungenerous, competition.
Clearly the bulk of the shame lies with the shareholders, who encourage
opposition for the sake of increasing their own dividends at the expense
of their neighbours, and who insist on economy in directions which
render the line inefficient--to the endangering of their own lives as
well as those of the public. Economy in the matter of railway
servants--in other words, their reduction in numbers--necessitates
increase of working hours, which, beyond a certain point, implies
inefficiency and danger. But the general public are not free from a
modicum of this shame, an