Fixed become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past,
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
AT THE THROTTLE.
THE LIFE AND EXPERIENCES OF AN ENGINEER OF A LIMITED EXPRESS.
By Cleveland Moffett.
“See the huge creature with muscles of steel, his heart a furnace of glowing coal, and the strength of a thousand horses nerving his sinews. See him strut forth from his stable, and, saluting the train of cars with a dozen sonorous puffs from his iron nostrils, stand panting to be gone. He would drag the pyramids across the Desert of Sahara if they could be hitched on.”
