e furnace is in front. That long handle which comes from the
middle of the boiler on a level with your little head is the regulator,
which when pulled out lets the steam into the cylinders, and it then
moves the pistons and rods, and they move the big eight-feet wheels.
Perhaps, when we reach Swindon workshops, we shall go underneath an
engine and see the machinery.

"What is that other handle?" you say. That is "the lever." It is at the
side next the engine-driver, you see, and he can pull it back so as to
save his steam, and not use too much; he "expands" it and makes a little
keep the train going after it has once got into its pace. There are the
steam and water "gauges," to tell the "driver" and fireman when the
steam is at proper pressure, and when the water is high enough in the
boiler. The steam gauge is like a clock, or an Aneroid barometer, right
before the driver. Those other handles near it are the whistle-handles.
One whistle is small, and very shrill, to warn people on the line, and
to tell people the train is coming. The other is a deep-toned booming
whistle which tells of danger perhaps, and when blown means "Stop the
train, there is obstruction in front."

"Crimea" is now ready. The engine-driver pulls open the regulator, and
we glide back and are attached to the train. We have air-breaks worked
on the engine, vacuum-breaks which can pull us up quickly, and when all
the connections are made the "Flying Dutchman" is ready; he is harnessed
to his eight coaches full of people--the solemn and sorry; the glad and
the cheerful; and boys and girls, going on all sorts of errands.

"Right!" says the station-superintendent.

The clock over the platform is exactly 11.45 a.m. The fireman, who is
looking on, says "Right, Tom," the guard whistles, then the driver
touches the small whistle-handle in front; a shrill scream rouses the
many sleeping echoes in the roof, where they had got to be out of the
way perhaps, and the engine-driver opens the regulator valve--"Crimea"
fizzes a little in front of the cylinders. Off we go!

"Puff-puff," slowly at first, in a solemn and majestic manner. We cannot
expect such big wheels to hurry themselves. Under the bridge, puffing a
little more quickly, then we rattle through Westbourne Park and by
Wormwood Scrubs. Puff-puffing much more quickly now, but not quite so
loudly, as the driver has pulled the lever back and the steam goes up
with less force through the chimney: working