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Soon a long Train, fully packed with a Battalion of our noble Guards, with the lever of the Safety Valve held down by the gallant Colonel, who has sprung on to the Locomotive Engine; while his Noble young Ensign is urging the Stoker, and assisting alere flammam; is rushing at a but once before heard of reckless speed along one of the two Lines of Railway to Dover; yet all too slow to keep pace with their high spirits' enterprise!
At length, as it comes suddenly in view, "The Castle!" is the cry: and it is taken up from carriage to carriage by the eager Guards. They know not yet that it has been taken by the enemy: who have trained two heavy guns to command the two Lines of Railway leading to Dover; each to the range of a certain spot upon the Line lying before it respectively.
Suddenly from one of them there belches forth a cloud of smoke; and it's sullen bomb is heard afar; but not until it's flat-ended long shot, with an energy equal to move 5562 tons in weight a foot, has struck the periphery and flange of the Locomotive's Great Driving Wheel near its top, the central line of its trajectory exactly at a tangent to its circle, stripping it off; heavy segments of it smiting the two after wheels, and discharging them in fragments under the Officers' feet, and cutting short the axletrees: which, together with the long radial spokes of the Great Driving Wheel thus set free, plunge and imbed themselves in the earth, among Sleepers, bent rails and broken spokes and segments, fixing the Engine there! Both Officers and Engineers spring, or are flung, down the sudden decline, to the earth, far away: well is their need! for the Tender, bumped by the train of carriages behind, turns up in air; and, making a complete somersault, flies over and beyond it. And the whole Train of carriages, with its heavy complement of men and arms, with dire momentum rushing on, piles itself up six carriages deep, (as at the Thorpe Accident, near Norwich), in a confused and broken pile, over the steaming boiler; which, like a wild beast in a net, roars horribly!
At a word from the Colonel, the Noble young Ensign, waving the standard frantically, is just in time to save the next Train, with another Battalion of Guards, from rushing with like dire speed in medias res. Its gallant Colonel leaps from the Engine: and the whole Battalion, springing out, rush forward to the waving Colours, rifle in hand, each eager to be first; and then, as quickly piling arms, rush on to rescue the maimed
