HARDWOOD RECORD 



39 



mere experiment: it -rras the finished fruit of many experiments, 

 and that while offering the conveniences of a hotel or a club, it 

 did with regularity what it undertook to do in the way of speed 

 and promptness. The pamphlet made good reading! * * * 



I noted that it pleased the company to run two other very impor- 

 tant trains out of the terminus simultaneously with the unique 

 train. Bravado, possibly; but bravado which invited the respect of 

 all those who admire enterprise! I anticipated with pleasure the 

 noble spectacle of these three trains sailing forth together on three 

 parallel tracks; which pleasure was denied me. We for Chicago 

 started last; we started indeed, according to my poor European 

 watch, from fifteen to thirty seconds late! * * * No matter! 

 I would not stickle for seconds: particularly as at Chicago, by the 

 terms of a contract which no company in Europe would have had 

 the grace to sign, I was to receive, for any unthinkable lateness, 

 compensation at the rate of one cent for every thirty-six seconds! 

 Within a quarter of an hour it became evident that that train 

 had at least one great quality — ^it moved. As, in the deepening 

 dusk, we swung along the banks of the glorious Hudson, veiled 

 now in the vaporous mysteries following a red sunset, I was obliged 

 to admit with increasing enthusiasm that that train did move. 

 Even the persecutors of Galileo would never have had the audacity 

 to deny that that train moved. And one felt, comfortably, that the 

 whole company, with all the company's resources, was watching 

 over its flying pet, giving it the supreme right of wa}' and urging 

 it forward by hearty good-will. One felt also that the moment had 

 come for testing the ameuities of the hotel and the club. 



"Tea, please," I said, jauntily, confidently, as we entered the 

 spotless and appetizing restaurant car. 



The extremely polite and kind captain of the car was obviously 

 taken aback. But he instinctively grasped that the reputation of 

 the train hung in the balance, and he regained his self-possession. 



"Tea?" His questioning inflection delicately hinted: "Try not 

 to be too eccentric." 



"Tea." 



"Here?" 



"Here." 



"I can serve it here, of course," said the captain, persuasively. 

 "But if you don"t mind I should .prefer to serve it in your state 

 room. " 



We reluctantly consented. The tea was well made and well 

 served. 



In an instant, as it seemed, we were crossing a dark river, on 

 which reposed several immense, niany-storied river steamers, bril- 

 liantly lit. I had often seen illustrations of these craft, but never 

 before the reality. A fine sight — and it made me think of Mark 

 Twain's incomparable masterpiece, "Life on the Mississippi," 

 for which I would sacrifice the entire works of Thackeray and 

 George Eliot. We ran into a big town, full of electric signs, and 

 stopped. Albany! One minute late! I descended to watch the 

 romantic business of changing engines. I felt sure that changing 

 the horses of a fashionable mail coach would be as nothing to this. 

 The first engine had already disappeared. The new one rolled tre- 

 mendous and overpowering toward me; its wheels rose above my 

 head, and the driver glanced down at me as from a bedroom win- 

 dow. I was sensible of all the mystery and force of the somber 

 monster; I felt the mystery of the unknown railway station and 

 of the strange illuminated city beyond. And I had a corner in 

 my mind for the thought: "Somewhere near me Broadway actu- 

 ally ends." Then, while dark men under the ray of a lantern 

 fumbled with the gigantic couplings, I said to myself that if I 

 did not get back to my car I should probably be left behind. 

 I regained my state room, and waited, watch in hand, for the jerk 

 of restarting. I waited half an hour. Some mishap with the 

 couplings! We left Albany thirty-three minutes late. Habitues 

 of the train affected nonchalance. One of them offered to bet 

 me that "she would make it up." The admirals and captains 

 avoided our gaze. 



We dined, a la carte; the first time I had ever dined a la carte 

 on any train. An excellent dinner, well and sympathetically 

 served. The mutton was impeccable. And in another instant, as 

 it seemed, we were running, "n'ith no visible flags, through an 

 important and showy street of a large town, and surface cars were 

 crossing one another behind us. I had never before seen an express 

 train let loose in the middle of an unprotected town, and I was nai'f 

 enough to be startled. But a huge electric sign — "Syracuse bids 

 you welcome" — trauquilized me. We briefly halted, and drew 

 awa.v from the allurement of those bright streets into the deep, 

 perilous shade of the open country. 



I went to bed. The night difl:ered little from other nights spent 

 in American sleeping cars, and I therefore will not describe it in 

 detail. To do so might amount to a solecism. * * * 



Eemembering in my extreme prostration that I was in a hotel 



and club, and not in an experiment, I rang the bell, and a smiling 



negro presented himself. It was only a quarter to seven in Toledo, 



■ but I was sustained in my demeanor by the fact that it was 



a quarter to ^ight in New York. 



"Will you bring me some tea, please?" 



He was sympathetic, but he said flatly I couldn 't have tea, nor 

 anything, and that nobody could have anything at all for an hour 

 and a half, as there would be no restaurant car till Elkhart, and 

 Elkhart was quite ninety miles off. He added that an engine had 

 Ijroken down at Cleveland. 



I lay in collapse for over an hour, and then, summoning my man- 

 hood, arose. On the previous evening the hot-water tap of my 

 toilet had yielded only cold water. Not wishing to appear hyper- 

 critical, I had said nothing, but I had thought. I now casually 

 turned on the cold-water tap and was scalded by nearly-boiling 

 water. The hot-water tap still yielded cold water. Lest I should 

 be accused of inventing this caprice of plumbing in a hotel and 

 club, I give the name of the car. It was appropriately styled 

 "Watertown" (compartment E). 



In the corridor an admiral, audaciously interrogated, admitted 

 that the train was at that moment two hours and ton minutes late. 

 As for Elkhart, it seemed to be still about ninety minutes away. I 

 went into the observation saloon to cheer myself up by observing, 

 and was struck b3' a chill, and by the chilly, pinched demeanor 

 of sundry other passengers, and by the apologetic faces of certain 

 captains. Already in my state room my senses had suspected a 

 chill; but I had refused to believe my senses. I knew and had 

 known all my life that American trains were too hot, and I had 

 put down the supposed chill to a psychological delusion. It was, 

 however, no delusion. As we swept through a snowy landscape the 

 apologetic captains announced sadly that the engine was not 

 sparing enough steam to heat the whole of the train. We put on 

 overcoats and stamped our feet. 



The train was now full of ravening passengers. And as Elkhart 

 with infinite shyness'approached, the ravening passengers formed in 

 files in the corridors, and their dignity was jerked about by the 

 speed of the icy train, and they waited and waited, like mendicants 

 at the kitchen entrance of a big restaurant. And at long last, when 

 we had ceased to credit that any such place as Elkhart existed, 

 Elkhart arrived. Two restaurant cars were coupled on, and, as it 

 were, instantly put to the sack by an infuriated soldiery. The 

 food was excellent, and newspapers were distributed with much 

 generosity, but some passengers, including ladies, had to stand for 

 another twenty minutes famished at the door of the first car, be- 

 cause the breakfasting accommodation of this particular hotel and 

 club was not designed on the same scale as its bedroom accomoda- 

 tion. We reached Chicago one hundred and ten minutes late. And 

 to compensate me for the lateness, and for the refrigeration, and 

 for the starvation, and for being forced to eat my breakfast hur- 

 riedly under the appealing, reproachful gaze of famishing men and 

 women, an oSicial at the La Salle station was good enough to offer 

 me a couple of dollars. I accepted them. * » » 



An unfortunate accident, you say. It would be more proper to 

 say a series of accidents. I think "the greatest train in the 

 world" is entitled to one accident, but not to several. And when, 

 in addition to being a train, it happens to be a hotel and club, and 

 not an experiment, I think that a system under which a serious 

 breakdown anywhere between Syracuse and Elkhart (about three- 

 quarters of the entire journey) is necessarily followed by starvation 

 — I think that such a system ought to be altered — bj'" Americans. 

 In Europe it would be allowed to continue indefinitely. 



Beyond question my experience of American trains led me to the 

 general conclusion that the best of them were excellent. Never- 

 theless, I saw nothing in the organization of either comfort, luxury, 

 or safety to justify the strange belief of Americans that railroad 

 traveling in the United States is superior to railroad traveling in 

 Europe. Merely from habit, I prefer European trains on the 

 whole. It is perhaps also merely from habit that Americans 

 prefer American trains. 



A Big Job 



The Forest Service has undertaken a big contract in starting to 

 raise a grove of redwood in the Tahoe National Forest in California. 

 The planting site is about thirty-four miles northwest of the most 

 northern existing grove of redwood. It is on a moist flat not far 

 from Nevada City, about 27,000 feet above sea level. The first 

 seeding was done in the fall of 1910 with successful results, and 

 last fall an additional area was seeded. 



The flourishing condition of the young seedlings gives reason to 

 anticipate a future growth of Bigtrees at this point. With the 

 protection of the forests from fire, there seems to be no reason 

 why the Bigtrees should disappear, even though scientists regard 

 them as survivors of a past age, botanically speaking. Even with 

 the success of the seed planting assured, the trees that have been 

 cut can never be reproduced as they were in some instances four 

 or five thousand .vears old. 



