Clashed out upon the marble. “Wherefore that?”
Asked Torel. Answered she: “I knew you true;
And I could live, so long as I might wait;
But they—they pressed me hard; my days of grace
Ended to-night—and I had ended too,
Faithful to death, if so thou hadst not come.”
THE SUCTION POST.
Having read an article in one of your numbers for July, 1860, upon the “Suction Post,” which interested me much in the undertaking; and having recently received an invitation from the Pneumatic Despatch Company (Limited), to view the experiments on about 500 yards of tube laid down at Battersea, I took advantage of a fine afternoon, and proceeding to Hungerford Bridge, was at once conveyed with as much rapidity as was possible for a penny steam-boat, to Battersea Pier. On arriving there, I observed a long iron tube, about eighteen inches in diameter, trailing along the side of the river, looking like some sea-serpent that Father Thames had stranded on his banks: this was the Pneumatic tube. Having watched with great interest a car drawn into it from the starting-point, I proceeded to the arrival end, where the engine-house was situated, and where I found the civil engineer, who thoroughly deserves his title, for his polite attention and kindness in explaining the modus operandi to me.
Having expressed a desire to become myself a passenger by this miniature railway, the engineer informed me that although not actually meant for passenger traffic, it could easily accommodate itself to that purpose, if I would return to the starting- point, and place myself in one of the parcel cars, which I accordingly did; and being compelled to recline myself at full length on a couch of gravel-bags, with which the cars were partially filled, for the purposes of the experiments which were being made. As soon as I had thus placed myself, the car was partially pushed into the tube, leaving just my head exposed to the gaze of my surrounding friends, who, whilst I was in this position, assailed me with cheering observations, such as whether I had made my will previous to starting, and who was to be the lucky legatee, in case of my never seeing daylight again in my present shape, of which they assured me there was little probability. My feelings at this time were, I should imagine, somewhat similar to those of a boy tied up in a sack with his head free, and being tickled by his loving schoolfellows with a straw. I had only just time to make a gracious reply to the kindly inquiries, when I felt myself being sucked down the throat of the serpent, and in another instant was whirling along at what appeared to me lightning speed; but which, in reality, was about a quarter of a mile in fifty seconds, but this was a great reduction, on my account, of the ordinary speed. A large quantity of dust which was, I suppose, drawn in with the car, was blowing over me throughout my brief journey, which, combined with there being no springs to the car, was the only unpleasantness I experienced. There was a cooling rush of air over my face the whole time, which if it had not been mixed with the before-mentioned dust would have been very agreeable.
My fancies during my very rapid passage were of a novel character. I bethought me of the description in the second Æneid of the Grecian horse of old with its living bowels, and was reminded by the whirring noise and great reverberation of the line:
Insonuere cavæ genitumque dedere cavernæ.
Then the idea of coming to a dead stop in the middle of the tube, and spending the afternoon there, suggested itself, but was dispelled on remembering that the engineer had told me that in case of such a mishap, which could only occur through some derangement of the pumping-engine, a workman could be sent in on his hands and knees to hook on a rope to the car, which could then easily be pulled out. But I had not time for much reflection before I felt the speed slackening slightly, and after turning a sharp curve in the tube, that brought me into the engine house, I was released, after a slight pause, by the guardian angels, alias pneumatic workmen, who watch over the trap-door (that fastens the end of the tube), and the car rolled slowly out amidst a small crowd of interested spectators, who apparently seemed most intensely disappointed that I did not appear in a mangled or otherwise injured state. I don’t know if the expectant legatee was amongst the number. I was instantly surrounded by this crowd, who, in a very affectionate manner, considering the shortness of our acquaintance, begged me to describe my sensations generally during my novel passage, which, though possessing much natural amiability of disposition, I was unable to do to the satisfaction of all, so will refer them to this account instead.
The purposes and advantages of this scheme were so amply explained in your previous article,[1] that it is quite unnecessary for me to add another word.
OUR FIRST ENGLISH REGATTA.
It is August,—Parliament is up,—battles, murders, and sudden deaths do not suit the dog-days,—it takes all the graphic powers of a Russell to excite an interest in the mad doings of our cousins across the Atlantic, and we turn with pleasure from the columns in which the word “America” appears in large letters associated with all the horrors of a fratricidal war, to where we see the same four syllables in humbler guise under the heading of “Intelligence from Cowes,” and learn that the far-famed schooner of that name has sailed, and lost, a match with the Alarm. There is something refreshing in the very thought of a regatta at this hot season, and though the unequal distribution of Fortune’s favours may not allow us to sail our own yachts, we can at least derive enjoyment from inhaling the invigorating breezes of old Ocean, as seated upon the shore we watch with dreamy interest the sport which is made for us by those who do.
An ocean separates us from anarchy and bloodshed; in the face of this glorious summer sun sea-girt old England, clad in her golden robes of- ↑ See Vol. III., p. 130.
