Catch-me-who-can?”
“Of course he doesn’t! Don’t be so rag-mannered!” his brother admonished him. “I beg your pardon, sir: he has windmills in his head!”
“Not windmills: railway locomotives,” replied Alverstoke. He looked down at Felix. “Isn’t that it? Some sort of steam-locomotive?”
“Yes, that’s it!” said Felix eagerly. “Trevithick’s, sir. I don’t mean the Puffing Devil: that ran on the road, but it caught fire, and was burnt.”
“Ay! and a very good thing too!” interjected Jessamy. “Steam-engines on the roads! Why, they would send every horse mad with terror!”
“Oh, pooh! I daresay they would soon grow used to them. Besides, I’m not talking of that one. The one I mean runs on rails—at fifteen miles an hour, and very likely more!” He turned his attention to Alverstoke again. “I know it was brought to London, because Mr Rushbury—my godfather—told me so, and how you could ride in it for a shilling. He said it was north of the New Road, and not far, he thought, from Montague House.”
“I believe it was,” said Alverstoke. “From some cause or another I never visited it, but I do seem to recall that the inventor—what did you say his name is?”
“Trevithick! The first locomotive he made has five wagons, and it can carry ten tons of iron and seventy men, but only at five miles an hour. It’s in Wales—I forget the name of the place—but the one here has one carriage, and—”
“ Will you bite your tongue, you abominable little bagpipe?” interrupted Jessamy. “Anyone would take you for a regular shabster, rattling on like that, and not allowing Lord Alverstoke to edge in a word!”
Abashed by this rebuke, Felix hastily begged his lordship’s pardon; but Alverstoke, amused by him, said: “Nonsense! I can always edge in a word—when I wish to! There was such a locomotive, Felix, but I am afraid it’s a thing of the past. I rather think that Trevithick hired some ground, near Fitzroy Square, fenced it in, and laid down a circular track. As I recall, it created quite a stir, but although a great many people went to see it, few could be persuaded to ride in it—and none at all after a rail broke, and the engine overturned! So it had to be abandoned. It must have been quite ten years ago.” He smiled, seeing the look of disappointment on Felix’s countenance. “I’m sorry! Are you so interested in locomotives?”
“Yes—no—in engines !”stammered Felix. “Steam-power—c-compressed air—! Sir, have you seen the pneumatic lift at that foundry in Soho?”
“No,” said his lordship. “Have you?”
“They wouldn’t let me,” replied Felix sadly. A thought occurred to him; and, fixing his ardent eyes on Alverstoke’s face, he asked, with pent breath: “If you wished to see it— could you?”
Frederica, who had resumed her seat, said: “No, no, Felix! Lord Alverstoke does not wish to! You mustn’t plague him to take you there!”
She was right: Alverstoke had not the remotest desire to inspect a pneumatic lift, but he found himself unable to resist the pleading look in the eyes raised so hopefully to his. He sat down again, smiling a little ruefully, and replied: “I expect I could. But you must tell me more about it!”
At this, Jessamy, well-aware of what would be the outcome of such an invitation, directed an anguished glance at Frederica, but although her eyes twinkled responsively she made no attempt to silence her small brother.
It might have been a task beyond her power. It was seldom that Felix met with encouragement to expatiate on a subject which few people understood, and most thought boring. His eyes brightening, he dragged up a chair, and tried to explain the principles governing pneumatic lifts. From there it was a small step to the pattern-shop engine, which was driven by air from the blowing-machine in the same foundry; and within a very short space of time Alverstoke was being battered by oscillating cylinders,
“Of course he doesn’t! Don’t be so rag-mannered!” his brother admonished him. “I beg your pardon, sir: he has windmills in his head!”
“Not windmills: railway locomotives,” replied Alverstoke. He looked down at Felix. “Isn’t that it? Some sort of steam-locomotive?”
“Yes, that’s it!” said Felix eagerly. “Trevithick’s, sir. I don’t mean the Puffing Devil: that ran on the road, but it caught fire, and was burnt.”
“Ay! and a very good thing too!” interjected Jessamy. “Steam-engines on the roads! Why, they would send every horse mad with terror!”
“Oh, pooh! I daresay they would soon grow used to them. Besides, I’m not talking of that one. The one I mean runs on rails—at fifteen miles an hour, and very likely more!” He turned his attention to Alverstoke again. “I know it was brought to London, because Mr Rushbury—my godfather—told me so, and how you could ride in it for a shilling. He said it was north of the New Road, and not far, he thought, from Montague House.”
“I believe it was,” said Alverstoke. “From some cause or another I never visited it, but I do seem to recall that the inventor—what did you say his name is?”
“Trevithick! The first locomotive he made has five wagons, and it can carry ten tons of iron and seventy men, but only at five miles an hour. It’s in Wales—I forget the name of the place—but the one here has one carriage, and—”
“ Will you bite your tongue, you abominable little bagpipe?” interrupted Jessamy. “Anyone would take you for a regular shabster, rattling on like that, and not allowing Lord Alverstoke to edge in a word!”
Abashed by this rebuke, Felix hastily begged his lordship’s pardon; but Alverstoke, amused by him, said: “Nonsense! I can always edge in a word—when I wish to! There was such a locomotive, Felix, but I am afraid it’s a thing of the past. I rather think that Trevithick hired some ground, near Fitzroy Square, fenced it in, and laid down a circular track. As I recall, it created quite a stir, but although a great many people went to see it, few could be persuaded to ride in it—and none at all after a rail broke, and the engine overturned! So it had to be abandoned. It must have been quite ten years ago.” He smiled, seeing the look of disappointment on Felix’s countenance. “I’m sorry! Are you so interested in locomotives?”
“Yes—no—in engines !”stammered Felix. “Steam-power—c-compressed air—! Sir, have you seen the pneumatic lift at that foundry in Soho?”
“No,” said his lordship. “Have you?”
“They wouldn’t let me,” replied Felix sadly. A thought occurred to him; and, fixing his ardent eyes on Alverstoke’s face, he asked, with pent breath: “If you wished to see it— could you?”
Frederica, who had resumed her seat, said: “No, no, Felix! Lord Alverstoke does not wish to! You mustn’t plague him to take you there!”
She was right: Alverstoke had not the remotest desire to inspect a pneumatic lift, but he found himself unable to resist the pleading look in the eyes raised so hopefully to his. He sat down again, smiling a little ruefully, and replied: “I expect I could. But you must tell me more about it!”
At this, Jessamy, well-aware of what would be the outcome of such an invitation, directed an anguished glance at Frederica, but although her eyes twinkled responsively she made no attempt to silence her small brother.
It might have been a task beyond her power. It was seldom that Felix met with encouragement to expatiate on a subject which few people understood, and most thought boring. His eyes brightening, he dragged up a chair, and tried to explain the principles governing pneumatic lifts. From there it was a small step to the pattern-shop engine, which was driven by air from the blowing-machine in the same foundry; and within a very short space of time Alverstoke was being battered by oscillating cylinders,
Similar Books
