ELECTRIC SIGNALS ON ENGLISH RAILROADS. 583 



steadiness, and application to work must be demanded of the men who 

 look after the signals and points at the branch lines, junctions, and 

 sidings. Take the Great Western line of England, for instance, with 

 its 1,387 miles of road. Besides its- own system, it falls in with the 

 principal systems of the Bristol and Exeter, South Devon, North Wales, 

 and ever so many more minor systems for the traffic of which it has 

 in a measure, of course, to provide as well as for its own. Over all 

 these lines trains are traveling daily at express speed, their ulti- 

 mate destination being London. Now, express speed in England 

 means an average rate of 47f miles an hour, a pace which is probably 

 greater by ten miles than that attained on any other railroads in the 

 world. Indeed, on the Great Western and Great Northern lines even 

 this rate of traveling is exceeded. On the first-mentioned system a 

 train runs 77£ miles (from London to Swindon) without stopping, in 

 87 minutes, giving a uniform pace of 53^ miles an hour: on the Great 

 Northern a train completes the journey from London to Peterborough 

 (76J miles) in 90 minutes. Just one little error on the part of the 

 signal man, one omission to adjust the points on the part of his mate, 

 and down swoops the express on to the wrong line, and the result is an 

 appalling catastrophe such as happened at Wigan the other day. 



In the above little sum, which I suggested to be worked out, I 

 mentioned that about 800 trains passed through Clapham Junction 

 regularly every day. You take your stand upon the platform. Whish- 

 h-h — Bang — Rattle — a train has passed you. Take out your watch, 

 mark the second-hand going round, and before it gets to 60 — Whish- 

 h-h — Bang — Plunge — a second train has rushed out into the open, to 

 catch the first one up. But it can't. The line is blocked by the sharp- 

 sighted man in the signal-box yonder, who has no fear even if a train 

 per minute were to work through. He has nothing to do with time. 

 His duties are to maintain a certain and invariable interval of space 

 between two trains, and he does it. How does he do it ? If the reader 

 will be good enough to follow me into the signal-box, he shall see. 



Not much of a place certainly. On the whole rather like a second- 

 rate sea-shore shanty, stuck upon four posts, so placed it seems that 

 every train going into the station, and every train coming out from it, 

 shall rush full tilt against the box and smash it and its occupants to 

 atoms. In reality, the signal-box is so situated to command for a cer- 

 tain distance a full view of one line just where it joins to another. 

 Interiorly our box is not unlike an unfurnished private box at a 

 theatre, into which some of the machinist's properties have been put 

 by mistake. Regarding a printed notice on the wall that strangers 

 are particularly requested not to distract the attention of the signal- 

 man from his duties, we take a look round, and the general im- 

 pression to be got from a cursory glance is that it must be rather 

 jolly to be a signal-man. Every thing looks so clean and neat ; there 

 is plenty of excitement to be had in watching the trains from the win- 



