A MONTH'S CASUALTIES.

(COMPILED MAINLY FROM THE NEWSPAPERS.)

August 20.-A lampman named William Milleos, while crossing the line at Laisterdyke Station (G.N.), was knocked down and cut in two. August 21.-George Blandford, a pointsman at Lawley-street Yard, Birmingham, got jammed beteen two waggons, was carried some few yards, then dropped on the rails. Three waggons passed over him, and he was picked up dead.

August 22.-Thomas Broadley, a North London platelayer, run over and killed.

August 23.-At Shrewsbury Station, during a crush on the platform after a flower show, a florist from Birmingham was pushed on to the line, and killed.

August 24.—At Cannon-street Station (S.E.R.), London, a passenger train ran against a horse-box and three luggage vans. Six persons were slightly hurt, but a fitter named Nye received severe injuries while at work clearing the line. A correspondent informs us that the poor fellow died in hospital at four o'clock next morning.An engine driver on the G.N.R., named Ashley, while running from London to Peterborough, mounted the tender, and was killed by his head coming in contact with a bridge.

August 25.—At Lostock Junction, near Bolton, a lampman named Gregory was killed by an express.- -A train ran by mistake into a siding near Northwich (Cheshire Lines), smashing into some trucks, and sustaining considerable damage. The guard was somewhat hurt. August 28.-A workman's train from Bangor to Bethesda slate quarries was thrown off the line. Several men seriously injured. August 29.-A signal-boy of fourteen, Charles Mann, while crossing the line at New Cross, was caught and killed by a train from Hastings. When the train reached Cannon-street, one hand and part of an arm was found hanging to the gear of the tender.An excursion train ran off the metals near Manchester, and several passengers were hurt.

August 30.-Samuel Davies, a shunter on the Joint Railway, at Birken. head, was killed while at work. The foreman porter at Hoestreet Station, Walthamstow, named Groves, was knocked down and killed by a light engine.

August 31.-While uncoupling a waggon at Warrington, Samuel Eaton, a fireman, received injuries which caused death. September 1.-A G.N. bogie engine exploded in Sleaford Station, while attached to a passenger train from Grantham. There was no loss of life. John Piggott, a messenger, was knocked down at Crewe by an engine, and lost his left arm. -George Critchley, foreman porter at Radcliffe Bridge (L. & Y.R.), was killed while shunting. September 3.-At Southwaite (L. & N.W.R.), near Carlisle, Mrs. Dixon, wife of a retired manufacturer, was on the platform waiting for a train; an express rushing past caught a part of her dress, dragged her away, and when picked up the head and one arm was found severed from the body.- -Mr. Bailey, a schoolmaster, was killed by an express while crossing the line at Cherry Tree Station, near Blackburn.

September 4.-The breaking of an axle in a goods train threw several waggons off the line, and caused a block for five hours, at Kirkby Stephen. The driver of a goods train from Burton-on-Trent to Leeds mistook the signals at Clay Mills, the result being that his engine left the rails at the catch-points, and with several trucks went over the embankment into some water. The driver and stoker were rescued, the former very seriously injured.

September 5. On the Chester, Mold, and Denbigh Railway, a farmer named Harris was on the line as two trains were approaching. Avoiding one, he was caught by the other, hurled forward with terrific force, and killed.- -A platelayer, J. W. Page, killed on the L. & N.W. near Pinner.

September 8.-Mrs. Booth, wife of a shorthand clerk at Leicester, was in a G.N. train from Mablethorpe with her sister and three children, when a boy three years of age fell out of the carriage. The lady at once jumped after him, sustained concussion of the brain, and died in half an hour. The child was unhurt. September 10.-William Hutchings met his death while crossing the line at Nuneaton Station (L. & N.W.) He was waiting for a train to Rugby.

September 11.-A S.E.R. platelayer, named Henry Tremore, while at work in a short tunnel between New Cross and St. John's, was almost cut to pieces by an express from Hastings. He stepped out of the way of a down train, and was caught by the up express, which shot out of the tunnel at the moment.- -Two young men were killed by a collision on the Great North of Scotland Railway, near Aberdeen.

September 12.-The body of John King, thirty-nine years of age, was found in the early morning on the Midland line near Haverstock-hill Station. The upper part of his head had been taken off by a train. Deceased, who had just returned from Australia, was on his way to Glasgow, and it is thought he fell off the footboard of the train while attempting to get from one compartment to another. September 15.-A man named Hetherington, in the employ of the G.N.R., died in Bradford Infirmary through having been run over by a goods train.

September 16.-The mutilated body of a quarryman named Walker was found on the G.N. line, near Gildersome Station. September 17.-Four men were much scalded by the bursting of a pipe on an engine upon which they were riding, on a branch from the L. & N.W. to Islip Ironworks, near Thrapstone.- The axle of a fish van attached to the L. & N.W. Scotch express broke when between Wigan and Warrington. The train, however, kept the rails, and though much excitement was caused and the line damaged, no personal injury occurred.

September 18.-William Worcester and Fanny Simpson were killed on the G.W.R., between Hayes and West Drayton.

AUTUMN.

SOFTLY the wind blew thro' the trees,
Sighing in pity that every day,

With every gentle fluttering breeze,

It tears from the boughs fresh leaves away.

Brightly the sun shines o'er the sward,
As tho' to linger out the time,
And to the falling leaves afford

A sunny shelter in their decline.

Ah! inconstant day-unto my mind

Like the dark night wrestling with the morn,
Just as the warning hour has chimed
The coming of the ling'ring dawn.

But experience teaches that thy smile
Is but the harbinger of death,
To flowers and leaves that you beguile
Into life, with summer breezes' breath.

As we read the long list of Railway accidents which appear from month to month in the pages of THE RAILWAY SIGNAL, it surely must bring with great force to the hearts of many the text, "Prepare to meet thy God." It must also cause various kinds of feeling in the breasts of those who have lost dear ones. One whom we have known and loved have been cut off from our midst, and whilst sorrow has filled our heart it has nevertheless been mingled with joy, because we feel sure, by the life our dear one lived, and the testimony he left behind, that he has gone to be with the Saviour whom he loved so well, and was always anxious others should love too. As we remember the last word he spoke, the last look, the finger pointed heavenward when the lips were too feeble to speak, it fills our heart with joy because we know that he is for ever with his Lord, and that our loss is his gain.

Oh! happy those who can thus speak of dear ones departed. Thank God! this can be spoken of many whose names have appeared in the casualty list. We wish this could be said of everyone, but from daily experience we fear many are cut off without leaving any testimony that they are gone to heaven. They meant to have been ready, but the great enemy of souls kept whispering to them, "There is plenty of time," and sudden death finds them unprepared to meet their Maker. To such of our mates as are in health and strength, but still unsaved, these sad accidents should be a warning to delay no longer, but to prepare at once to meet their God. We think there is scarcely a Railway-man living who has not at some time or other been warned of the broad way which leads to destruction, and entreated to walk the narrow way which leads to everlasting happiness.

We have much reason to thank God for the many privileges Railwaymen now have of hearing the Gospel preached. None can truly say, as did the poor gipsy lad, "No one ever told me." But with all these privileges many are still indifferent, and going on day after day utterly regardless of the future. Let me intreat you, dear brother, to decide for Christ and heaven this moment, then your life will be happier, and your happiness secured for ever. God has spoken to you by His Spirit in various ways-in the open air, by a tract given, mates suddenly cut off; but you may have forgotten all about it. You would like to be a Christian, but are afraid of your ungodly mates. They ask you to go with them to dramshops, to join in profane and impure language, to gamble, and to attend questionable places of amusement; you cannot say "No" to these questions, because, forsooth, they will laugh, and make game and call you a saint. These are some of the hindrances preventing you from coming out for Christ. You are "almost persuaded," but you make a full stop. See! the Lord who died for you stands by to save you. Look straight to Him. His name is "Wonderful." Once your soul gets a real life look from Him, you will gladly bow the knee, confess your utter helplessness, and your great need of His strength, and thus be enabled to say "No" to all that is wrong. Take Him at His word, believe His precious promises, and then sudden death coming to you will be sudden glory. Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." J. H.

West Hampstead.

No. 11.-VOL. VI. OVER 40,000 CIRCULATION.

NOVEMBER, 1888.

REGISTERED.

One Penny. Post Free, 14d.

be

THE name of JORN CHARLES RYLE is known wherever the English language is used. Excellent tracts and booklets, which may counted by hundreds of thousands, have been issued by this worthy evangelical Bishop, and a large number of men and women have been influenced in the direction of righteousness and godly living by the pointed, simple, and earnest statements of those tracts. If ever 8 man deserved a bishopric, be

cause of having spent much of his life in doing good, we think the Christian public can claim that for the Bishop of Liverpool.

Craven

Scholarship, much envied University distinction, and in 1838 took his B.A. degree with first-class honours. There was no idea in young RYLE's head of becoming a clergyman. His thought had been in another direct tion; but, as events often change the currents of people's thoughts, it was so in this case, and he eventually took orders as a clergyman in the Church of England, and became a curate at Ex. bury. He did good service for Christ among the humble folk in that neighbourhood, acquiring much pastoral knowledge, and giving much time, thought, and attention to the details of ministerial life. In 1843 he took charge of a parish in the city of Winchester, and in 1844 accepted a living at Helmingham from Lord Lyndhurst, who was then Lord Chancellor.

It was while at Helmingham that the tracts known as "Ryle's tracts" were commenced, the

sermons delivered in that parish. We need not here go into the subject matter of the tracts. A few of the titles will be sufficient to show what they are to any of our readers who may not happen to know them: "Are you Converted?" "Are you Forgiven?" "Wheat or Chaff?" "Do you Pray?" &c. They are most distinctly and thoroughly evangelical, and set forth the necessity of a personal acquaintance with Christ in order to salvation. After long years of faithful service in the proclamation of the Gospel, Mr. RYLE was offered the Bishopric of Liverpool, where he lives and labours for the common good of his diocese.

We wish that he may long be spared to stand up firmly for the truth which he knows will emancipate men from sin, and bring them into close acquaintance with the Lord Jesus Christ. We are sure that such men need the prayers of God's people, and we ask that Bishop Ryle may have those of our Christian Railway friends, who will be glad to know that, in reply to our application that he would be a Vice-President of our Mission, his Lordship wrote: "If my name can be of any service to you in your work, you can use it." This is an endorsement of the character of the Railway Mission, and we hope that its future, as its past has already done, will give every cause for confidence among those whose one object is to win the Railway service for Christ.

"AS THY DAY."

ELL has it been said, "It is not work, but worry, that kills." And amongst all life's avocations, perhaps it would be difficult to find one more subject to worry

than that of a Railway-man at any of our large

stations. From the station-master downwards, each one in his own sphere comes in for a greater or lesser degree of what is commonly accepted as worry. There are thousands of Railway people, we admit, who enjoy immunity from this trouble, as compared with their fellows. Those whose lot is cast at country stations, where trains stop but occasionally, and where passengers are few and traffic light, have no conception, from actual experi ence, of the harrassing surroundings of men whose days are passed in a busy station in a large town. Watch the bustle and turmoil on the arrival and departure of heavily-laden trains. Bewildered passengers, fresh from some secluded nook in the provinces, are eagerly besieging this one and the other, asking all kinds of questions, many of which are utterly beyond the power of porter or policeman to answer correctly. The cry of "Porter!" rings out on all sides, and almost violent hands are laid upon anyone wearing the Company's uniform,

by persons anxious about their belongings. Cabs rattle in and out, to the bewilderment of the novice, who always appears to be in the way of someone or other. Truly, a busy railway-station, at most times of the day and most seasons of the year, is the place where worry can be found.

Of course, some periods are worse than others. During the summer for instance, when shoals of people migrate from town to country and from country to town; and on holidays, when every "place to spend a happy day " is crowded by thousands of townsfolk-these are times of hard work and terrible worry for Railway-men. The Railway News lately copied from Murray's Magazine some part of a paper by Mr. Acworth on the Great Eastern traffic at holiday. time. As it will astonish some of our readers and be of interest to all, we reprint it here :

Last Whit-Monday the Great Eastern Railway booked over 300,000 passengers, and of these four-fifths were in the London district. The mere figures, 300,000, convey very little impression to our minds. Perhaps we shall gain a better idea of what 300,000 people really means

if we say that it is five times the number of troops that took two hours to march past Her Majesty at Aldershot last year, twelve times the number of the school-children who were massed to meet her in Hyde Park. Nor could this vast army of pleasure-seekers be drafted hither or thither at the word of command; on the contrary, they all wanted to go the same way at the same time. They all poured out of London in the morning, and all had to be taken back at nightfall. Before four p.m. 127,000 tickets had been collected at suburban stations. Of these about two-thirds had been collected at stations on the borders of Epping Forest, 37,653 of them at Chingford alone. The 37,000 passengers have to be taken home somehow in the course of four or five hours, and there is one pair of lines available on which to take them. By dint of careful arrangement, the company manages to work away ten trains in the hour, six for Liverpool-street, two for Fenchurch-street, viâ Stratford, and two for Highgate and the North London. It is a very long and a very full train that can seat 700 passengers, so it must be confessed that these trains, which average about 1,000 apiece, or say fifteen per compartment, are distinctly well loaded; but everybody expects it, and nobody grumbles. Hour after hour the exodus continues. The platform is a black and solid mass of human beings. A train comes in; in a single minute the train is packed as full as it can hold, and it moves off, leaving the platform bare. But five minutes afterwards it is as solid again as ever. The present writer returned to town in the guard's van, and as special instructions had been given to keep it select, the occupants never numbered more than twenty-five, babies included-but that, of course, was exceptional. The only thing the officials dread is a sudden downpour of rain about eight or nine o'clock, for then there is apt to be an ugly rush. But as the writer saw it, the whole thing worked with the regularity of clockwork, and the good temper and docility of the vast mass was beyond all praise.

Now, surely, amid scenes such as those described, a man may be forgiven if he loses his balance, and occasionally exhibits symptoms of irritation. It is small wonder if the temper gets ruffled, and hasty answers and rough words come forth, almost unbidden and certainly undesired. But here we find the value of religion the "keeping" power of Divine grace. "As thy day, so shall thy strength be," applies equally to a busy London station as to one in the quiet country. We find Railway-men standing the test of all the wear and tear, and, "strong in the strength which

God supplies," going about their duties with cool heads and earnest hearts. Thank God for a religion which serves us here and promises well for hereafter -which helps a man to endure the

conflict common to all whose lives are spent in great towns. While our country friends are kept free from the trials of those in busy centres, the latter class are enabled to magnify the grace that saves and keeps them in the hour of need. So all along the lines, in whatever position, God's children may be found, testing and proving the faithfulness of the promises.

A STORY FROM SCOTLAND.

A SHORT time ago, while attending to my duties, I was whistling the air of a popular hymn, when a fireman came up to me and asked my name. I told him. He asked me if I had no other name, and I said, “No,” for it had never struck me what he meant. He looked at me a little, and asked again, in very decided tones, "Are you sure you have no other name?" I saw then what he was aiming at, and remembering that portion in Revelation which speaks of the white stone with a name on it, I said, "Yes, praise God! I have another name; but it is not yet made known to me."

"Oh, yes," he said; "for I have another name, and I know what it is." Well," I asked, "what may it be?"

"Because once I was blind, but now I can see. Praise the Lord!"

I had seen this fireman many times before, but I never knew till then that he was on the Lord's side; and now, when I think of this conversation, my heart is glad. It is so refreshing when we Railway-men meet and grasp hands, and ask each other, "Are you keeping near to Jesus ? "' "By this we know that we love the children of God" (1 John v. 3). G. McC.

THE SIGNALMAN'S TALK;

OR, TWO ERRANDS UP THE LADDER.

ONE Sunday afternoon, a few years ago, two young railway porters stood on the platform at Danby Station. They had an hour's leave before the next up train came in. They were making plans as to how they should spend it. "Let us go where we can have a bit of fun," they said.

"If it's fun you want," said an old porter who was passing by, “just you run up the ladder and look into the signal-house. There you'll see the signalman reading the Bible, and he'll give you a lot of tracts, and maybe preach you a sermon into the bargain; and it will be the best bit of fun you ever had in your life."

46

Scarcely were the words spoken when the two thoughtless young men were at the top of the ladder, looking in at the open door of the signalhouse. There, sure enough, sat the signalman, enjoying the interval between trains with a Bible open before him; and, to add to the "fun," he got up and handed a tract to each of them, desiring them to read it. Read it! oh, yes!" said they; and forthwith one of them began to read aloud a sentence here and there in what he supposed to be a true Methodist drawl, advancing with his companion, as he did so, into the signal-house, the more to rouse, as they both expected, the anger of the signalman. But they were not prepared for what followed. Without saying a word, the signalman rose up, locked the door behind them, put the key in his pocket, and sat down.

Young men," he then said, "it is not often I have an opportunity of speaking a word to you about your souls. I have one now, and I will make the most of it. I will read you some passages from God's Word, and will endeavour to explain them to you. Will you kindly be still whilst I do so?"

"No, indeed," said the young men ; "we didn't bargain for that. We have but an hour's leave, end a good bit of it's gone already, and we don't mean to spend the rest hearing a sermon. So you'll unlock the door and let us out."

"No," said the signalman, "I shall not let you out till I have said what I have got to say. You know how often an accident happens to those employed on the line. How can I know that it might not be so this very day? And what account could I give of myself to God if I had had this opportunity of speaking to you of Christ, and had neglected it? If one of you were killed, I should then feel that your blood was upon my head."

And in spite of their further angry remonstrances, the signalman read one passage after another from the Word of God. He spoke to them of the awful danger of the unsaved sinner, of the love of God even to those dead in sin, shown in sending His Son to die for them. He told them God had pardon and life for such as they were, on account of what His Son had done.

When he had spoken at some length, he unlocked the door and said, "I am now clear of your blood; I can do no more but pray for you."

The two young men then went down the ladder, cursing and swearing, for their hour was all but over, the up-train was close at hand, and one of them had to go on with it to London, returning by the following down-train. The signalman's sermon seemed to have left no impression upon either of them but that of disgust.

The young porter's journey to London and back occupied some time, and he returned to Danby as the evening closed in. He at once saw, as he stepped out on the platform, that something unusual had happened. There were anxious-looking people going to and fro, there were marks of blood on the platform, and a little group of men with awestruck faces were crowding round the door of one of the offices. "Something the matter?" he inquired, quite afraid to hear the

answer.

"Yes," he was told; "a porter slipped off the platform just as the last train went by. It took both his legs off. They have taken him in there. He is dying."

The young man pushed his way through the crowd. Was it his friend? No; God had not yet closed the door for him. The man who lay senseless on the table was the old porter who had sent them up to the signal-house; and kneeling by his side, in earnest prayer, was a Christian! The poor man was still breathing, but gave no other signs of life.

In a few moments all was over, and the young porter could now begin to realise the fact that the man who but a few hours before had been scoffing at the Word of God was himself gone to appear in God's presence. It was an awful thought. Could there be any hope for him? The young man asked one who was present when the accident happened to tell him about it. Had the poor man been senseless all the time? "No, not at first."

"And did he speak after you took him up?" "Yes, he spoke when we brought him in."

"What did he say?"

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He said, 'Fetch the signalman! I am dying! Fetch the signalman! I want him to pray!' Yes, that's the way he went on-'Fetch the signalman.' So we went to fetch him, and he came at once, for he was just coming off duty; but then, poor fellow, he couldn't speak, and we couldn't find out if he knew what was said to him; but we could do no more."

And we know no more. The eternal condition of that poor despiser is to us unknown, and must be until the coming of the Lord. But there was one trembling sinner who went that night to ask again to hear the

words of life from the one who had spoken to him in vain three hours before. The young porter believed and was saved. His companion remained unmoved. He must have been far more hard of heart from that awful evening than he had been before.

I would now ask you, reader, to consider this solemn truth, that in the case of those who scoff at the people and the Word of God, it is not, alas! simply in ignorance that they do so; at least in many, if not in most cases, it is the terrible enmity of the natural heart of man against that which he knows to be of God. When the old porter saw the awful reality of death before him, the one to whom he turned for help was the very man whom he had treated as a fool, perhaps as a hypocrite; and, as it came out, he had known in his heart that the signalman was right, even at the time that he had mocked him. Unsaved sinner, are you aware against how much light you are sinning? How will you stand speechless before God if you die unforgiven? for you know what you are doing only too well.-Illustrated Messenger, No. 98 (Religious Tract Society).

RUTH.

BEREFT of much-loved sons and husband dear,
The aged Naomi's sad thoughts are bent
Upon the land where her young days were spent ;
She longs to leave the home that's now so drear.
Two women fair, with eyes that once were clear
Bedimmed with weeping, and with hearts sore rent
For their beloved dead, are now intent
Upon her words, which they with sorrow hear;
She bids them leave her-bids them once more seek
Their childhood's homes, that they perchance may find
New friends to compensate for those they've lost;
And Orpah turns, with spirit bowed and meek,
From that lone spot and all that can remind
Of loved ones silent. Does she count the cost?
The o her, Ruth, essays to soothe the pain

Felt by that aged woman; and to share
Her lonely lot, she feels, will ease her care
And to her lips bring back the smile again.
"Entreat me not to leave thee; I would fain

Within thy home abide, though now so bare;
Whither thou goest, I will go, nor spare
Aught that can cheer thee and thy grief restrain;
Ever thy people shall my people be-
Thy God my God!" And now the holy light
Of resignation gilds the brow of age.
"Yea, where thou diest will I die, and we
Together will be buried." Ever bright
Will Ruth's devotion shine on Bible page!
Ipswich Station.

"THE TIDE IS OUT."

J. M. NIBLOE.

I was travelling lately on a line of railway where the train ran along the seashore for some miles; and one of my fellow travellers was looking forward to this part of the journey with much pleasure, as she was an ardent admirer of the sea. Presently I heard her utter, in tones of regret, "Oh! the tide is out." It certainly was out, and very far out too; there was nothing to be seen but a dreary waste of sard, and a thin line of blue in the distance. "The tide is out!" Yes, I thought, how often we look forward to some earthly pleasure which we had set our hearts upon. We picture it beforehand, and dwell on it in anticipation; but when it does come, the tide is out, and we meet with vexation and dis. appointment. Ah! but there are some tides which never go out, and are always at the full. There is the tide of God's mercy-have we ever been disappointed in that? Have we ever found it ebbing from us? No; rather can we say with David, "His mercy endureth for ever.' The tide of His mercy has never once ebbed or flowed; it is always full, and rolls at our feet in ceaseless waves of blessing. The tide of God's love is never out. He says, "I have loved thee with an everlasting love." The tide of God's providence is never out; we are told to cast all our care upon Him, for He cares for us. He always has cared and He always will. The tide of God's forgiveness never goes out; we sin again and again, but "if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins," and the cleansing tide of the Blood of Jesus flows on and on with no intermission, no interruption. A. B. L.

KILLED BY ELECTRICITY.-A shunter, named John Tarbox, met with a shocking death on Wednesday, October 3. It appears that about ten o'clock that night the deceased was engaged in moving an bydraulic crane with an engine at the Royal Albert Docks, London, when the crane came in contact with some electric light wires which were stretched across from a warehouse to a ship. One of the wires got severed by the contact, and fell to the ground. Tarbox, seeing the wire lying in front of the engine, went to pick it up with the intention of moving it out of the way, but had no sooner touched it with his hand than he fell back dead. The driver of the engine went to render assistance, but he was almost stunned by the electric shock conveyed from the body. Deceased was thirty-seven years old, and unmarried. A large number of his mates and friends followed the remains to the grave on Sunday, October 14.