The Iron Horse

At the particular time we write of, Edwin was frowning very hard at a business-book and thinking of Emma Lee. The cause of his frown, no doubt, was owing to the conflict between duty and inclination that happened to rage in his bosom just then. His time belonged to the railways of the United Kingdom; to Emma belonged his heart. The latter was absent without leave, and the mind, thus basely forsaken, became distracted, and refused to make good use of time.

That day Edwin met with a coincidence, he made what he believed to be a discovery, and almost at the same moment received an inquiry as to the subject of that discovery. While endeavouring, without much success, to fix his attention on a case of lost-luggage which it was his duty to investigate, and frowning as we have said, at the business-book, his eye was suddenly arrested by the name of “Durby.”

“Durby!” he muttered. “Surely that name is familiar? Durby! why, yes—that’s the name of Tipps’s old nurse.”

Reading on, he found that the name of Durby was connected with a diamond ring.

“Well, now, that is strange!” he muttered to himself. “At the first glance I thought that this must be the brown paper parcel that I made inquiry about at the station of the Grand National Trunk Railway long ago, but the diamond ring puts that out of the question. No nurse, in her senses, would travel with a diamond ring tied up in a brown paper parcel the size of her head.”

We may remind the reader here that, when the brown paper parcel was found and carried to the lost-luggage office of one of our western railways, a note of its valuable contents was sent to the Clearing-House in London. This was recorded in a book. As all inquiries after lost property, wheresoever made throughout the kingdom, are also forwarded to the Clearing-House, it follows that the notes of losses and notes of inquiries meet, and thus the lost and the losers are brought together and re-united with a facility that would be impracticable without such a central agency. In the case of our diamond ring, however, no proper inquiry had been made, consequently there was only the loss recorded on the books of the Clearing-House.

While Edwin was pondering this matter, a note was put into his hands by a junior clerk. It contained an inquiry after a diamond ring which had been wrapped up in a large brown paper parcel, with the name Durby written on it in pencil, and was lost many months before between Clatterby and London. The note further set forth, that the ring was the property of Mrs Tipps of Eden Villa, and enclosed from that lady a minute description of the ring. It was signed James Noble, M.D.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Edwin. “The most singular coincidence I ever experienced.”

Having thus delivered himself, he took the necessary steps to have the ring sent to London, and obtained leave (being an intimate friend of the Tipps family) to run down by train and deliver it.

While he is away on this errand, we will take the opportunity of mounting his stool and jotting down a few particulars about the Clearing-House, which are worth knowing, for that establishment is not only an invaluable means of effecting such happy re-unions of the lost and the losers, as we have referred to, but is, in many other ways, one of the most important institutions in the kingdom.

The Railway Clearing-House is so named, we presume, because it clears up railway accounts that would, but for its intervention, become inextricably confused, and because it enables all the different lines in the country to interchange facilities for through-booking traffic, and clears up their respective accounts in reference to the same.

Something of the use and value of the Clearing-House may be shown at a glance, by explaining that, before the great schemes of amalgamation which have now been carried out, each railway company booked passengers and goods only as far as its own rails went, and at this point fresh tickets had to be taken out and carriages changed, with all the disagreeable accompaniments and delays of shifting luggage, etcetera. Before through-booking was introduced, a traveller between London and Inverness was compelled to renew his ticket and change luggage four times; between Darlington and Cardiff six times. In some journeys no fewer than nine or ten changes were necessary! This, as traffic increased, of course became intolerable, and it is quite certain that the present extent of passenger and goods traffic could never have been attained if the old system had continued. It was felt to be absolutely necessary that not only passengers, but carriages and goods, must be passed over as many lines as possible, at straight “through” to their destinations, with no needless delays, and without “breaking bulk.” But how was this to be accomplished? There were difficulties in the way of through-booking which do not appear at first sight. When, for instance, a traveller goes from London to Edinburgh by the East Coast route, he passes over three different railways of unequal length, or mileage. The Great Northern furnishes his ticket, and gives him station accommodation besides providing his carriage, while the North-Eastern and North British permit him to run over their lines; and the latter also furnishes station accommodation, and collects his ticket. To ascertain precisely how much of that traveller’s fare is due to each company involves a careful and nice calculation. Besides this, the whole fare is paid to the Great Northern, and it would be unjust to expect that that company should be saddled with the trouble of making the calculation, and the expense of remitting its share to each of the other companies. So, too, with goods—one company furnishing the waggon and tarpaulin, besides undertaking the trouble of loading and furnishing station-accommodation and the use of its line, while, it may be, several other companies give the use of their lines only, and that to a variable extent. In addition to all this, the company providing its carriages or waggons is entitled to “demurrage” for every day beyond a certain time that these are detained by the companies to which they do not belong.

Now, if all this be unavoidable even in the case of a single fare, or a small parcel, it must be self-evident that in lines where the interchange of through-traffic is great and constant, it would have been all but impossible for the railway companies to manage their business, and the system would have given rise to endless disputes.

In order to settle accounts of this description, it was soon seen to be absolutely necessary that some sort of arrangement must be come to, and, accordingly, the idea of a central office was conceived, and a system established without delay, which, for minute detail and comprehensive grasp, is unrivalled by any other institution. At first only a few of the railway companies united in establishing the Clearing-House in 1842, but by degrees, as its immense value became known, other companies joined, and it now embraces all the leading companies in the kingdom. It is said to be not inferior to the War Office, Colonial Office, and Admiralty in regard to the amount of work it gets through in a year! Its accounts amount to some twelve millions sterling, yet they always must, and do, balance to a fraction of a farthing. There must never be a surplus, and never a deficiency, in its funds, for it can make no profits, being simply a thoroughly honest and disinterested and perfectly correct go-between, which adjusts the mutual obligations of railways in a quick and economical manner. Its accounts are balanced every month, and every pound, shilling, and penny can be accounted for. It annually receives and dispenses a revenue greater than that of many European kingdoms. In 1847 its gross receipts were only 793,701 pounds. In 1868 they had risen to above eleven millions.

Each line connected with the Clearing-House has a representative on the committee to look after its interests, and bears its proportion of the expenses of the establishment.

Before showing the manner in which the work is performed for the railway companies, it may be well to premise that one great good which the Clearing-House system does to the public, is to enable them to travel everywhere with as much facility as if there were only one railway and one company in the kingdom.

To avoid going too much into detail, we may say, briefly, that in regard to goods, statements of through-traffic despatched are sent daily from thousands of stations to the Clearing-House, also separate statements of through-traffic received. These are compared. Of those that are found to agree, each company is debited or credited, as the case may be, with the proportion due to or by it. Where discrepancies occur, correspondence ensues until the thing is cleared up, and then the distribution to the accounts of the several companies takes place. As discrepancies are numerous and constant, correspondence is necessarily great. So minutely correct and particular are they at the Clearing-House, that a shilling is sometimes divided between four companies. Even a penny is deemed worthy of being debited to one company and credited to another!

As it is with goods, so is it with passengers. Through-tickets are sent from all the stations to the Clearing-House, where they are examined and compared with the returns of the tickets issued, and then sent back to their respective companies. As these tickets amount to many thousands a day, some idea may be formed of the amount of labour bestowed on the examination of them. The proportions of each ticket due to each company are then credited, and statements of the same made out and forwarded to the several companies daily. From the two sets of returns forwarded to the Clearing-House, statements of the debit and credit balances are made out weekly.

Parcels are treated much in the same way as the goods.

“Mileage” is a branch of the service which requires a separate staff of men. There are hundreds of thousands of waggons, loaded and empty, constantly running to and fro, day and night, on various lines, to which they do not belong. Each individual waggon must be traced and accounted for to the Clearing-House, from its start to its arrival and back again; and not only waggons, but even the individual tarpaulins that cover them are watched and noted in this way, in order that the various companies over whose lines they pass may get their due, and that the companies owning them may get their demurrage if they be improperly detained on the way. For this purpose, at every point where separate railways join, there are stationed men in the pay of the Clearing-House, whose duty it is to take the numbers of all passenger carriages and goods, waggons and tarpaulins, and make a daily statement of the same to the Clearing-House.

As daily returns of all “foreign” carriages arriving and departing from all Clearing-House stations are forwarded to the same office, they are thus in a position to check the traffic, detect discrepancies, and finally make the proper entries as to mileage and demurrage in the accounts of the respective companies. Frequently the charge of one-tenth of a penny per mile for a tarpaulin is divided among several companies in various proportions. For a waggon or carriage from Edinburgh to London, mileage and demurrage accounts are sent out by the Clearing-House to four companies. Formerly, before demurrage was introduced, carriages were frequently detained on lines to which they did not belong, for weeks, and even months, until sometimes they were lost sight of altogether!

Once a month the balances are struck, and the various railways, instead of having to pay enormous sums to each other, obtain settlement by means of comparatively small balances.

For example, the London and North-Western railway sends its through passengers over the Caledonian line. The mileage charged for its “foreign” carriages is three farthings per mile. Small though that sum is, it amounts at the end of a month perhaps to 5000 pounds. This little bill is sent to the Clearing-House by the Caledonian against the London and North-Western. But during the same period the latter company has been running up a somewhat similar bill against the former company. Both accounts are sent in to the Clearing-House. They amount together to perhaps some fifteen or twenty thousand pounds, yet when one is set off against the other a ten or twenty pound note may be all that is required to change hands in order to balance the accounts.

The total mileage of lines under the jurisdiction of the Clearing-House, and over which it exercises complete surveillance on every train that passes up or down night or day, as far as regulating the various interests of the companies is concerned, amounts to more than 14,000. The Times, at the conclusion of a very interesting article on this subject, says,—“Our whole railway system would be as nothing without the Clearing-House, which affords another illustration of the great truth that the British railway public is the best served railway public in the world, and, on the whole, the least grateful.” We hope and incline to believe that in the latter remark, the great Thunderer is wrong, and that it is only a small, narrow-minded, and ignorant section of the public which is ungrateful.

Disputed claims between railways are referred to the arbitration of the committee of the Clearing-House, from whose decision there is no appeal.

The trouble taken in connexion with the lost-luggage department is very great; written communications being sent to almost innumerable stations on various lines of rails for every inquiry that is made to the House after lost-luggage.

It is a striking commentary at once on the vast extent of traffic in the kingdom, and the great value in one important direction of this establishment, the fact that, in one year, the number of articles accounted for to the Clearing-House by stations as left by passengers, either on the platforms or in carriages, amounted to 156,769 trunks, bags and parcels, and of these nearly ninety-five in every hundred were restored, through the Clearing-House, to their owners. It is probable that the property thus restored would amount to half a million of money.

This reminds us that we left Edwin Gurwood on his way to restore Mrs Tipps her lost ring, and that, therefore, it is our duty to resume the thread of our story, with, of course, a humble apology to the patient reader for having again given way to our irresistible tendency to digress!

Chapter Twenty Two.

Mrs Tipps goes on a Journey, and meets a Gentleman who, with much Assurance, comments freely on Insurance

On a particular holiday, it was advertised that a great excursion train would start from the Clatterby station at a certain hour. At the appointed time the long line of carriages was pushed up to the platform by our friend John Marrot, who was appointed that day to drive the train.

“Bill,” remarked John to his mate, “it’ll be a biggish train. There’s an uncommon lot o’ people on the platform.”

“They’re pretty thick,” replied Will Garvie, wiping his countenance with a piece of waste, which, while it removed the perspiration, left behind a good deal of oil, and streaked his nose with coal-dust. But Will was not particular!

The excursionists were indeed unusually numerous. It chanced to be a fine day, and the platform was densely crowded with human beings, many of whom moved, when movement was possible, in groups, showing that there were various sections that had a common aim and interest, and meant to keep together as much as possible. There were men there who had evidently made up their minds to a thoroughly enjoyable day, and women whose aspect was careworn but cheerful, to whom a holiday was probably a memorable event in the year. Of young people there was of course a considerable sprinkling, and amongst the crowd could be seen a number of individuals whose amused expression of countenance and general aspect bespoke them ordinary travellers, who meant to avail themselves of a “cheap train.” All classes and conditions of men, women, and children were hustling each other in a state of great excitement; but the preponderating class was that which is familiarly though not very respectfully styled “the masses.”

Mrs Marrot was there too—much against her will—and little Gertie. A sister of the former, who lived about twenty miles from Clatterby, had, a short time before, made her husband a present of a fine fat pugilistic boy, and Mrs M felt constrained to pay her a visit.

John was on the look-out for his wife and child, so was Will Garvie. The former waved a piece of cotton-waste to her when she arrived; she caught sight of him and gave him a cheerful nod in reply; and an unexpressed blessing on his weather-beaten face arose in her heart as Garvie pushed through the crowd and conducted her and Gertie to a carriage.

Timid little Mrs Tipps was also there. It is probable that no power on earth, save that of physical force, could have induced Mrs Tipps to enter an excursion train, for which above all other sorts of trains she entertained a species of solemn horror. But the excitement consequent on the unexpected recovery of the diamond ring, and the still more unexpected accession of wealth consequent thereon, had induced her to smother her dislike to railways for a time, and avail herself of their services in order to run down to a town about twenty miles off for the purpose of telling the good news to Netta, who chanced to be on a short visit to a friend there at the time. When Mrs Tipps reached the station, her ignorance of railway matters, and the confused mental state which was her normal condition, prevented her from observing that the train was an excursion one. She therefore took out a first-class ticket and also an insurance ticket for 500 pounds, for which latter she paid sixpence! Her ignorance and perturbation also prevented her from observing that this rate of insurance was considerably higher than she was accustomed to pay, owing to the fact of the train being an excursion one. If she had been going by an ordinary train, she could have insured 1000 pounds, first-class, for 3 pence; half that sum, second-class, for 2 pence; and 200 pounds, third-class, for the ridiculously small sum of one penny!

Good Mrs Tipps held the opinion so firmly that accident was the usual, and all but inevitable, accompaniment of railway travelling, that she invariably insured her life when compelled to undertake a journey. It was of no avail that her son Joseph pointed out to her that accidents were in reality few and far between, and that they bore an excessively small proportion to the numbers of journeys undertaken annually; Mrs Tipps was not to be moved. In regard to that subject she had, to use one of her late husband’s phrases, “nailed her colours to the mast,” and could not haul them down even though she would. She therefore, when about to undertake a journey, invariably took out an insurance ticket, as we have said,—and this, solely with a views to Netta’s future benefit.

We would not have it supposed that we object, here, to the principle of insuring against accident. On the contrary, we consider that principle to be a wise one, and, in some cases, one that becomes almost a duty.

When Mrs Tipps discovered that Mrs Marrot and Gertie were going by the same train, she was so much delighted at the unlooked-for companionship that she at once entered the third-class, where they sat, and began to make herself comfortable beside them, but presently recollecting that she had a first-class ticket she started up and insisted on Mrs Marrot and Gertie going first-class along with her, saying that she would pay the difference. Mrs Marrot remonstrated, but Mrs Tipps, strong in her natural liberality of spirit which had been rather wildly set free by her recent good fortune, would not be denied.

“You must come with me, Mrs Marrot,” she said. “I’m so frightened in railways, you have no idea what a relief it is to me to have any one near me whom I know. I will change your tickets; let me have them, quick; we have no time to lose—there—now, wait till I return. Oh! I forgot your insurance tickets.”

“W’y, bless you, ma’am, we never insures.”

“You never insure!” exclaimed Mrs Tipps in amazement; “and it only costs you threepence for one thousand pounds.”

“Well, I don’t know nothink as to that—” said Mrs Marrot.

Before she could finish the sentence Mrs Tipps was gone.

She returned in breathless haste, beckoned Mrs Marrot and Gertie to follow her, and was finally hurried with them into a first-class carriage just as the train began to move.

Their only other companion in the carriage was a stout little old gentleman with a bright complexion, speaking eyes, and a countenance in which benevolence appeared to struggle with enthusiasm for the mastery. He was obviously one of those men who delight in conversation, and he quickly took an opportunity of engaging in it. Observing that Mrs Tipps presented an insurance ticket to each of her companions, he said—

“I am glad to see, madam, that you are so prudent as to insure the lives of your friends.”

“I always insure my own life,” replied Mrs Tipps with a little smile, “and feel it incumbent on me at least to advise my friends to do the same.”

“Quite right, quite right, madam,” replied the enthusiastic little man, applying his handkerchief to his bald pate with such energy that it shone like a billiard ball, “quite right, madam. I only wish that the public at large were equally alive to the great value of insurance against accident. W’y, ma’am, it’s a duty, a positive duty,” (here he addressed himself to Mrs Marrot) “to insure one’s life against accident.”