On another occasion father was not so fortunate in averting disaster. In 1879 a lady came to the station in her carriage to meet some friends who were going to spend Easter with her. It was the day before Good Friday, and the trains were very late. The friends were coming in the down train from London, and she also wanted to see her son-in-law who was passing in the up train. While waiting she constantly crossed the line, first to the down platform, then to the up. A down train was signalled and off she went to the down platform. She was a very genial person and had been chatting pleasantly to every waiting passenger. This train was an express, and as soon as it passed by she saw an up train approaching. She immediately attempted to cross the line, probably thinking it was the stopping train, instead of which it was an express. Father rushed out to warn her, but it was too late, for the engine was upon her, and she was instantly killed. The shock was very great to both of my parents and they could not sleep for weeks.
Up to 1874 father was single-handed, and used often to be on duty from 6 a.m. till 2 o'clock the following morning waiting for a coal train which used to come at any time in those days. Afterwards a signalman was appointed, and then father's duty hours were 6 a.m. till 10 p.m. There are several people still living, both rich and poor, who could record the great courtesy they received at Silverton station. Many a time he would help some poor person along the lanes with her babies or her bundles, or show the way with his lamp to some benighted place perhaps two or three miles distant.
In the autumn of 1875 father was very ill, and when he got better he was ordered away for a change of air, and I had the pleasure of going with him. We visited some relations and went on to London. If we had gone to the dullest place in the world I should have been quite happy so long as father was with me, for on all occasions he was just the same age as his children. But as it was we went to all the interesting places, and I don't know which of us enjoyed things the most.
About this time the Great Western railway company took over what had been known as the Bristol and Exeter railway, and began to lay down narrow gauge-lines. The line near Silverton runs through a valley, picturesque but wet. The station itself is about thirty feet lower than the floor of Exeter Cathedral. For several weeks during this time there had been a great deal of rain and the valley contained more water than usual. Torrents ran down from the hills and flooded the valley of the Culm to a depth of over five feet. A culvert which drains the main part of these hills passes under the railway close to Silverton station, and this became blocked by two hurdles which had been carried down the stream and become fixed in an upright position right across the mouth of the culvert. Consequently, leaves, brushwood, thousands of apples and other rubbish got fixed on one side of the hurdles, completely staying the torrent. The railway was quickly flooded, and at 10.30 p.m., after the station was closed for the night, down came the express known as "Madame Neilson's train," because it conveyed her regularly from London to her Devonshire home. Owing to the work of laying down the narrow-gauge rails there were a great many timbers collected on that part of the line, and these were lifted by the sudden flood, and floated about on the water. Mother went to look at the flood just in time to see the express coming at a speed of sixty or seventy miles an hour, and she wondered if it would get safely through. The thought had scarcely entered her head when she saw the great engine rear itself up, as if it were a real live thing, then as suddenly drop down again, and she knew that it was off the line. The passengers got a shaking, but were otherwise none the worse, not even wetting their feet as they passed over planks laid across from their carriages to the platform. Madame Neilson and Madame Patti were both among the passengers, so here was a lively night for my mother and brothers. There is no railway hotel or other house near, so mother did her best to accommodate all these people, who were dreadfully hungry. They soon ate up all that was in our house, and there they had to wait for a relief train from Exeter. My two young brothers were called out of their beds, to escort two gentlemen to the village of Silverton two miles away. They started off full of excitement, and when they were about a quarter of a mile away the water was nearly up to their necks; but they all four went on, and my brothers had to try and get some bread for the hungry people. So they arrived in due course wet through and tired out, but they were none the worse the next day. Altogether it was a most exciting night. Father traced the origin of the flood and drew up plans, and received the thanks of the railway company.
Now there are some people, especially those who live in large towns, who may think that a small country station is a very dull place to live in, but that is because they have never tried it. Apart from such occasional and exciting events as that just described, the country has interests and amusements of its own. When country people are waiting for a local train, particularly if it is a market train, and all the passengers, both rich and poor, are more or less acquainted with each other, every topic is discussed, and if the station-master has a few minutes to spare his opinion is sure to be asked. For example, when Doctor Temple was appointed Bishop of Exeter, it made such a stir that it was the talk of every one, and father's opinion was asked by every passenger. Father had read about Dr. Temple, though he had not seen him. His reply to their question was always the same: "I rejoice to know that Dr. Temple is appointed; such men are needed in the Church very much indeed. He will be the right man in the right place, and he will thoroughly do his duty, and he will be a hard worker. Moreover, he will make the clergy work, and it is a thousand pities that so many churchmen have not yet realized what a strong man they will have amongst them."
Then up spake a countryman, "Then, du yu 'old way un bein' a tay-totler, Mr. Langdon?"
"Why, of course I do," replied father. "That is the essence of the whole matter, and that is just why the Exeter people are against him; but I for one am thankful, and I think it a great gain to the Church of England to have at last a bishop who holds such opinions."
"Well now to be sure, Mr. Langdon, I knowed thee was long-headed, and I knowed thee was an ole Liberal, now I knows thee beest an ole tay-totler."
Father was a broad Churchman, and wished for Church reform. He liked to hear good music and used to go regularly on Sunday evenings to Thorverton Church, as the services there were very much to his liking. He used to say that the Church was behind the times, and did not reach the people generally, chiefly because the clergy were all taken from one class, and in many cases they did not understand the poor. They were also educated over the heads of the people. In politics he was a supporter of Mr. Gladstone.
My father had now taken up photography and had made a collapsible dark room that he could carry on his back. He succeeded, after a few failures, in taking some very good pictures of the moon in 1880; and in December 1882 he took a good one of the transit of Venus. He also made an instantaneous shutter to his camera, by the help of which he was able to get some very good pictures, notably one of the old broad-gauge train known as the "Flying Dutchman." This was before dry plates were invented. The next thing he made was an excellent camera. A gentleman named Mr. Wellington gave him information both in regard to this and to photography in general, for which father was very grateful.