SNOWED UP ON THE PACIFIC RAILWAY.
A writer in the Leisure Hour remarks:—“It is no joke when a town like New York or London is blocked up for a few hours by snow. Both labour and capital have then to submit to a strike from nature; but it is a more serious matter when a man is snowed up in the middle of the Pacific Railway. He is not then kept at home, but kept away from it; he is not in the midst of comforts, but most unpleasantly out of their reach. He may, too, have to endure his privations and annoyances for a week, or even a month. . . Avalanches, in spite of snow-sheds and galleries, spring into ravines which the trains have to cross. . . . It was, however, with some little alarm
that the writer found himself caverned for a considerable time under one of these dark snow-sheds. The difficulty of running through the snow impediments had so exhausted the fuel that it was necessary to go to a wood-station in the mountains. As it was the favourite resort of avalanches, the prudent conductor of our train directed the pilot to back the carriages into a snow-shed, and then be off the more quickly with engine and tender for a supply of fuel. It was bitterly cold and in the dead of night. The snow was piled up around the gallery, and had in many places penetrated through the crevices. The silence was profound. The sense of utter loneliness and desolation was complete. The return of the engine after a lengthened absence was a relief, like the spring sun following an arctic winter.
“The first parties snowed up were wholly unprepared. They had had their dollar meal at the last station, and were far enough from the next when fixed in the bank. It was, however, a rare harvest for the nearest store. The necessity of some was the opportunity of others. Food of inferior quality brought fabulous prices. A dispute, involving a heavy wager, arose about one article of fare. Was it antelope or not? The vendor admitted that a very lean old cow had been sacrificed on the pressing occasion.
“For a little while some fun was got out of the trouble of snowed-up trains. Delicate attentions were tendered by gentlemen as cooks’ mates to the ladies. Oyster-cans were converted into culinary utensils, and telegraph wire proved excellent material for gridirons. Many a joke was passed in the train kitchen, and hearty was the appetite for the rude viands thus rudely dressed. But when the food grew more difficult to obtain, and the wood supply became less and less, the mirth was considerably slackened. It is true that despatches were sent off for help, and cargoes of provisions were steamed up as near as the snow would permit; but it was hard work to carry over the snow, and insufficient was the supply. Frightful growlings arose from the men and sad lamentations from the women. Short allowance of food, with intense cold, could not be positively enjoyed any time; but to be cooped up within snow walls in such a desolate region, far from expecting friends or urgent business, was most annoying. One spoke of absolute
necessity to be at his office within the week, as heavy bills had to be prepared for. Another was going about an important speculation, which would utterly break down if he were detained three days. Alas! he was there above three weeks.
“The sorrows of the heart were worse. A mother was there hastening to nurse a sick daughter. A father had been summoned to the dying bed of his son. A husband was hoping to clasp again a wife from whom a long voyage had separated him. One poor fellow was an especial object of sympathy. He was hastening to an anxiously waiting bride. He had to cool the ardour of his passion in the snow-bound car, and pass the day appointed for his wedding in shivering reflections. In one of the snow depths was detained an interesting couple who had casually met on the western side and were obeying the mandate of the heart and of friends in proceeding to the east to effect their happy union. The three weeks they were compelled to pass together, under these cold and trying circumstances, must have given them a famous insight into each other’s character, and this before the knot was tied.
“The story is told of one resolute man who, though but newly married, had been compelled to take a business journey. He was most impatient to return home, and was awhile confounded with his unfortunate imprisonment. When he found that little chance existed for an early escape, his heart prompted him to a bold enterprise. He was still two hundred miles from home. He had no guide before him but the telegraph posts. He could expect little provision on the way, as the stations were frozen up; but, sustained by conjugal affection, the good fellow set off on his lonely walk over the snow. Notwithstanding terrible sufferings, and some free fighting with wolves, he did his march in five days only. What a greeting he deserved!
“Those who had not his courage and strength were compelled to endure the cars. Americans are not folks to whine about a trouble; they succeed so often that their faith is strong. Though the most luxurious of people, the men—and the women too—can bear reverses nobly. But they never dream of Oriental submissiveness. They struggle hard to rise, and make the best of things till a change comes.
So with those in the cars. They soon found amusements; they chatted and laughed, played games and sang; the best jokes were recollected and repeated, and the liveliest tales were told; charades were acted; a judge and jury scene afforded much amusement; lectures were given to approving assemblies. The Sundays were decently observed, and services were held morning and evening; reading was dispensed with, and the sermons were extempore perforce.
“The worst part of their sufferings came when for forty-eight hours they were under a snow-shed without light, and with the stoves empty. As, for the maintenance of warmth, every crevice in the cars was stopped, the misery of close and unwholesome atmosphere was added to their sorrows. The writer, as an old traveller, has had some experience of odd sleeping dens, and has been obliged at times to inhale a pestiferous air, though he has never endured so much from this discomfort as in his winter passage on the Pacific Railway. For hours in the long nights, as well as in the day, he preferred standing outside on the platform, with the thermometer from fifteen to twenty-five below zero, rather than encounter the foul atmosphere and stifling heat within.
“Meanwhile the brave Chinamen were summoned to the rescue. They are capital fellows to withstand the cold, and work with a will to clear a passage. For a distance of two hundred miles the blockade existed, and several trains were thus caught on the way. Eight hundred freight wagons were detained at Cheyenne. At one period the cold was 30° below zero. The worst part of the road was toward Sherman, 8,252 feet above the sea. Wyoming and West Nebraska were the coldest regions.
“In this great blockade, strange to say, the mortality was but small. Three died during the imprisonment, and two in consequence of cold. But an interesting compensation was made, for five births took place in this season of trial. The principal sufferers were those in the second-class carriages. Room, however, was made for the more delicate in the already crowded first-class cars.”
A SELL.
The Indianapolis News is responsible for the following story. A railroad official of Indianapolis had, among other passes, one purporting to carry him freely over the Warren and Tonawanda Narrow-Gauge Railway. Happening to be near Warren, he thought he would use this pass. Now, it appears that some enterprising citizens of Pennsylvania once proposed to lay a pipe-line for petroleum between Warren and Tonawanda. The Legislature having refused to sanction their scheme, they “engineered” a bill for building a narrow-gauge line, which passed, the oil capitalists not conceiving that they had any interest in opposing it. It is needless to say the narrow-gauge line was the “desiderated pipe-line.” The enterprising citizens carried their joke so far as to issue annual passes over the road, receiving others in return. When the traveller sought for the Warren station on this line he found a chimney, and for the narrow-gauge an iron-lined hole in the ground. It is hardly surprising that now he is moved to anger at the slightest reference to the “Warren and Tonawanda Narrow Gauge.”