g been discovered which might have
made the passage at great speed dangerous; but, until that fact was
known, the poor trackman at Port Clinton was sufficiently abused.

On the 70 miles that remained of this division there was no
possibility that such a speed could be made as would put the total for
the first half of the run above the record. Once it was necessary to
slow down to take water from the track, and once again for safety
in rounding the curve at Berea. Between these points there were
occasional bursts of speed when 68 and 70 miles an hour were reached;
and after Berea was passed, there remained only 13 miles to Cleveland.
But in those 13 miles was done the fastest running that had been made
that day; for 7 miles to Rockport were covered at the rate of 83.4
miles an hour, and at Rockport itself the train must have been running
nearly a mile and a half in a minute.

It was a gallant effort; and, but for "the man at Port Clinton," there
is no doubt that by that time the success of the run would have been
reasonably assured. As it was, Cleveland was reached at ten minutes to
nine (8.50.13), the 107 miles from Toledo having been covered in 109
minutes--from which two minutes and five seconds were to be deducted
for the time in which the train was at rest at Port Clinton. In all,
so far, 328-1/2 miles had been run at a speed of 62.16 miles an hour.

"It may be done yet," people told each other, but there was little
confidence in the voices which said it.

The stop at Cleveland was a good omen, for the change of engines was
made in a minute and forty-five seconds, and it was soon evident that
Jacob Garner, the new engineer, understood that he had a desperate
case in hand. Before ten miles were covered the train was travelling
more than a mile in a minute. Twenty-eight miles from the start, in
spite of an adverse grade, six miles were covered at the rate of
74.40 miles an hour; and from there on mile after mile flew past,
and station after station, and still the speed showed 70 miles
and upwards. Through Ashtabula, haunted with the memory of railway
disaster, we burst, and on to Conneaut and Springfield; and, even
against hope, hope grew again. Twelve miles from Springfield is the
little town of Swanville, and here the high-water mark of 83.4 miles
at the end of the last division was beaten; for the 6.2 miles from
there to Dock Junction were made in 4.4 minutes--or at the speed of
84.54 miles an hour.

As has b