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Little Giant Injector!!

The Great Boiler Feeder. The Best Locomotive
Injector in the World.

You can make it as HOT as steam can make it, and yet it will bring the water and go to work in two seconds. It should always be put above the running board, handy to the engineer, and any dirt may be taken out of it while the engine is running.

We guarantee it to out-work and out-run any other, and give less trouble.

One has been in daily use in Pennsylvania Railroad Shops for six years without any repairs. The Engineer on the express train from Philadelphia to Baltimore (which runs one hundred miles in one hundred and thirty minutes), uses the Injector instead of the pumps, and says he can run seventy miles without shutting off or touching the Injector. It feeds the water warmer, and you can make steam easier and more regular. We will send an Injector to any Superintendent or Master Mechanic, and if they desire it, will send a man to put it on. Try it for sixty days, give it the severest trial you can-now is the time to try them, in cold weather. If you desire to keep it you may do so by paying us list price for it-we make no charge for expenses for our man-or you may return it after trial. In ordering, No 7 are for large, No. 6 for medium and No. 5 for small locomotives. Always state whether for copper or iron pipes, and whether for locomotives or stationery boilers. Address

Rue Manufacturing Company

523 Cherry Street,

PHILADELPHIA, PA.

MIDVALE STEEL WORKS,

CRUCIBLE AND OPEN HEARTH STEEL.

TIRES AND AXLES

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TOOL, MACHINERY AND SPRING STEEL

CASTINGS AND FORGINGS.

WORKS AND OFFICE:

Nicetown, Philadelphia, Pa.

WAREHOUSE:

12 N. 5th St., Philadelphia, Pa.

MONTHLY JOURNAL

VOL. XII.

Published by the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers.

DECEMBER, 1878.

A GIRL WHO SAVED A GENERAL.

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AR down the Carolina coast lies the lovely island of St. John, where stood, one hundred years ago, a noble, brick-built mansion, with lofty portico and broad piazza.

It was the home of Mr. Robert Gibbes and his beautiful young wife, and the great house was full at all seasons. Eight children had already come to this couple, and seven little adopted cousins were their playmates-the orphan children of Mrs. Fenwick, the sister to Mr. Gibbes. He himself was a cripple, and could not walk. In a chair which ran on wheels he was drawn daily over the pleasant paths, sometimes by the faithful black servants, sometimes by the still more devoted children, who tugged at the rope like so many frisky colts. The loveliness of the spot suited well its name of "Peaceful Retreat," by which it was known through all the country.

But in those troublous times it could not always remain "peaceful." In the spring of 1779, the British took possession of all the sea-board. General Prevost marched up from Savannah and laid siege to Charleston. But, hearing that General Lincoln was hastening on with his army, he struck his tents in the night, and retreated rapidly toward Savannah. He crossed the Stono Ferry, and fortified himself on John's Island, as the island of St. Johns was often called.

For weeks the noise of musketry and heavy guns destroyed the quiet joy at "Peaceful Retreat." The children, in the midst of play, would hear the dreadful booming, and suddenly grow still and pale. The eldest daughter, Mary Anna, was a sprightly, courageous girl of thirteen. She had the care of all the little ones, for her mother's hands were full in managing the great estate and caring for her husband.

After a time the enemy determined to

NO. 12.

take possession of this beautiful place. A body of British and Hessians quietly captured the landing one midnight, and creeping stealthily onward, filled the park and surounded the house. At daylight the inmates found themselves prisoners.

Then came trying days for the family. The officers took up their quarters in the mansion, allowing the family to occupy the upper story.

John's Island was less than thirty miles from Charleston, and when the American officers heard that "Peaceful Retreat" had been captured by the British, they determined to rescue it from the enemy. Two large galleys were immediately manned and equipped and sent to the plantation, with strict orders not to fire upon the mansion.

Sailing noiselessly up the Stono river, at dead of night, the vessels anchored abreast the plantation. Suddenly, out of the thick darkness burst a flame and roar, and the shot came crashing through the British encampment. The whole place was instantly in uproar. The officers in the house sprang from bed, and hastily dressed and armed. The family, rudely awakened, rushed to the windows. A cold rain was falling, and the soldiers, half-clad, were running wildly hither and thither, while the officers were frantically calling them to arms. Mary woke at the first terrible roar and fled to her mother's room. The excitable negro servants uttered most piercing shrieks. The poor little children were too frightened to scream, but clung, trembling, to Mary.

Mrs. Gibbes was in great distress. She knew not, at first, whether it was an attack by friends on the camp, or an assault on the house by the enemy. She ordered the servants to cease their wailing and dress themselves. Then her husband and the children were prepared; and, while the cannon bellowed in quick succession, and the noise around the house grew louder,

the father and mother consulted what was best to do. It was now evident that the attack was by their own friends, and its object was to dislodge the enemy. But Mr. Gibbes did not know that the house would not be fired on, and he advised instant flight. He was carried to his chair, and the whole household sallied forth from a back door.

The scene was terrific. The night was pitchy dark, and when, just as they stepped out, a sheet of flame belched forth from the vessels, it seemed to be almost against their faces. The roar shook the ground. The troops were too busy saving themselves to notice the fugitives, and they pushed on as rapidly as possible.

No one was sufficiently protected from the rain. Little Mary had the hardest part, for nearly all the children were in her care. The mud was deep. Some of the little ones could walk but a short distance at a time, and had to be carried-Mary having always one, sometimes two, in her arms. Several of the servants were near her, but none of them seemed to notice her or her burdens. The last horse had been carried off that very day; there was no escape but on foot.

Suddenly a ball came crashing by them through the trees! Then a charge of grapeshot cut the boughs overhead. They were exactly in the range of the guns! It was evident they had taken the worst direction, but there was no help for it now-it was too late to turn back. In her agony the mother cried aloud on God to protect her family. Mary hugged closer the child in her arms, and trembled so she could hardly keep up. Another crash! The shot shrieked past them, striking the trees in every direction. The assault was fierce, the roar was incessant. The frightened family rushed on as swiftly as possible toward a friend's plantation, far back from the shore; but it was soon seen that they would not have strength to reach it, even if they were not struck down by the flying shot. The Americans were pouring their fire into these woods, thinking the enemy would seek refuge there. The wretched fugitives expected every moment to be the last. On they pushed through mud and rain and screaming shot.

Soon they found they were getting more out of range of the guns. They began to hope; yet now and then a ball tore up the trees around them, or rolled fearfully across their path. They reached one of the houses where their field hands lived, with no one hurt; they were over a mile from the mansion, and out of range. The negroes said no shot had come that way. Unable to flee further, the family determined to stop here. As soon as they entered, Mrs. Gibbes felt her strength leaving her, and sank upon a low bed chilled to the bone. Drenched, trembling with terror and exhaustion, the family gathered around her.

She opened her eyes and looked about. She sprang up wildly.

"Oh, Mary!" she cried, "where is John?" The little girl turned pale, and moaned: "Oh, mother! mother! he's left!" She broke into crying. The negroes, quickly sympathetic, began to wring their hands and wail.

"Silence!" said Mr. Gibbes, with stern but trembling voice. The tears were in his own eyes. The little child now missing was very dear to them all, and, moreover, was deemed a sacred charge, as he was one of the orphan children of Mr. Gibbes' sister, intrusted to him on her death-bed.

The wailing ceased; there was silence, broken only by sobs, and the master asked: "Who is willing to go back for the child?"

No one spoke. Mr. Gibbes turned to his wife for counsel. As the two talked in low tones, Mrs. Gibbes called her husband's attention to Mary, who was kneeling with clasped hands, in prayer, at the foot the bed. In a moment, the little maid rose and came to them, saying calmly:

"Mother, I must go back after baby." "Oh, my child," cried the mother, in agony, "I cannot let you!"

But, mother, I must," pleaded Mary. "God will care for me."

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It was a fearful responsibility. The guns yet roared constantly through the darkness; the house might now be in flames; it might be filled with carnage and blood. Mrs. Gibbes turned to her husband. His face was buried in his hands. Plainly, she must decide it herself. With streaming eyes, she looked at Mary.

Come here, my child," she called through her sobs. Mary fell upon her mother's neck. One long, passionate embrace, in which all a mother's love and devotion were poured out, and the clinging arms were opened without a word. Mary sprang up, kissed her father's forehead, and sped forth on her dangerous mission of love.

The rain had now ceased, but the night was still dark and full of terrors, for through the trees she saw the frequent flashes of the great guns. The woods were filled with the booming echoes, so that cannon seemed to be on every hand. She flew on with all speed. Soon she heard the crashing trees ahead, and knew that in a moment she would be once more face to face with death. She did not falter. Now she was again in the fierce whirlwind! All around her the shot howled and shrieked. On every side branches fell crashing to the earth. A cannon ball plunged into the ground close beside her, cast over her a heap of mud, and threw her down. She sprang up with redoubled vigor. Not even that ball could make her turn back.

She reached the house. She ran to the room where the little child usually slept. The bed was empty! Distracted, she flew from chamber to chamber. Suddenly she

remembered that this night he had been given to another nurse. Up into the third story she hurried, and, as she pushed open the door, the little fellow, sitting up in bed, cooed to her and put out his hands.

degrees, much expended, little earned, they contract habits of carelessness, idleness and intemperance; their creditors demand; they promise to pay but fail; writs issue, charges are multiplied for the maintenance of others as idle as themselves, and executions strip them of all they have, and cast their mis

With the tears raining down her cheeks, Mary wrapped the babe warmly and started down the stairs. Out into the dark-erable bodies into loathsome prisons. ness once more; onward with her precious burden, through cannon-roar, through shot and shell! Three times she passed through this iron storm. The balls still swept the forest; the terrific booming filled the air. With the child pressed tightly to her brave young heart, she fled on. She nei ther stumbled nor fell. The shot threw the dirt in her face, and showered the twigs down upon her head. But she was not struck. In safety she reached the hut, and fell exhausted across the threshold.

And the little boy thus saved by a girl's brave devotion, afterward became General Fenwick, famous in the war of 1812.-St.

Nicholas.

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. John Adams, second President of the United States, in his diary, more than a hundred years ago, recorded his opinion of the use of spirituous liquors and their sale at public houses, as follows:

"The number of these houses has been lately so much augmented, and the fortunes of their owners so much increased, that the artful man has little else to do but secure the favor of taverners in order to receive the suffrages of the rabble that attend these houses, which in many towns within my observation, makes a very large, perhaps the largest number of voters."

[From the Trade Circular.]

RUBBER SHOES.

crude gum from the importer, is to cleanse The first operation after receiving the it. To facilitate this process the rubber, which comes in lumps, resembling in size and shape a soldier's canteen, is cut into thin slices by means of a large circular knife, revolving with great speed and constantly wetted. Then these slices are cut into small pieces by means of a chopper-a machine which resembles in its action a Indeed, scarcely anything that I have common hay cutter - and afterward the observed in the course of a long life, has a pieces are reduced to minute particles in greater influence on religion, morals, another machine, which, at the same time, health, property, liberties and tranquility washes out all the dirt and sand. Besides of the world-I mean public houses. The the accidental admixture of foreign subtemper and passions, the profaneness and stances with the sap, the natives are in the brutal behavior inspired by the low sort of habit of throwing in sand and ashes to incompany that frequent such houses, and by crease the weight. This grit, unless comthe liquors they drink there, are not very pletely removed from the gum, will show compatible with the pure and undefiled re- itself in the shoe, impairing its smooth surligion of Jesus-that religion whose princi- face; and then much of the fine finish deple is to renounce all filthiness and super-pends upon the care taken at this stage. fluity of naughtiness. That inattention to the public ordinances of religion, as well as to private devotion, which I have reason to think so prevalent in these times, is no unnatural consequence of the very general resort to these licentious houses. The plentiful use of spirituous liquors begins with producing a strange confusion of mind; appetite and passions, too violent for the government of reason, proceed to involve men in debts, and of consequence in lying, cheating, stealing and greater crimes; and ends in total and incurable dissolution of

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The small particles of rubber, all clean, are now shoveled into another machine which rolls them together into rough sheets. These sheets are then taken to the drying room, where they remain about three months to admit of the complete evaporation of the moisture. It is an important point thoroughly to extract the moisture of the gum, for if it is made up into shoes before it is sufficiently dry, the watery particles will expand under the heat of vulcanization and create blisters. After the gum is sufficiently dry it is carried into the grinding room, and fed into machines called grinders, where, passing between heavy iron rolls, heated with steam, it is softened so as to permit of the admixture of the vulcanizing material. The call for low priced goods has led to extensive cheapening, by which less expensive material than rubber is added to lessen the cost. Coal tar, lamp black, and other cheap and bulky articles are thus sometimes used. The gum is then run into long sheets between calenders. The sheets as delivered from the calenders, after being cut into

convenient lengths, are carried to the cutting tables and cut into uppers and soles by means of patterns and sharp wet knives in the hands of skilled workmen. The uppers and soles are now ready to be lasted. Meanwhile in another department the linings-whether of purple stocking net for shoes, or of woolen fleecy cloths for "Arcties," or of heavy felt for boots-are coated on one side with rubber, by passing a batch of gum in company with the cloth between heated steel rolls in another calender, and, after being cut into various sizes, many thicknesses at once, with dies in a drop press, are distributed to those who make up the

boots and shoes.

After attaching various strengthening pieces of cloth-stiffening, etc.-the rubber upper is carefully laid on and sticks fast to the rubber on the clotb, with a light pressure and smoothing movement of the hand. No pegging or sewing is required. The edges are then trimmed, the sole is put on and rolled down firmly, so as to adhere closely in every part. The shoes are now collected and carried to the varnish room, where a coat of elastic varnish is quickly applied, and the shoe, now of a greenishbrown color, is hung in the heater. varnish, besides improving the luster finish, protects the rubber from being injured by the intense heat of vulcanization, and further protects the shoes when in use from the effect of the atmosphere. It is found that goods which are made up with a dull finish, not having the protection of the varnish do not last as long as varnished goods.

The

The heater is a large fire-proof room, heated by means of a large number of steam pipes. In the evening, when the heater is full of goods, the doors are closed, the steam turned on, and the baking begins. The heat is gradually run up to nearly 300 degrees, under the supervision of experienced hands who remain all night carefully watching the progress of the baking, as indicated by the thermometers hung up inside but visible through small windows in the wall of the heater. Too much heat renders the rubber brittle and rotten, and not quite enough heat detains the sulphur in the shoe, and injures its appearance afterward, when they become what are called "white" goods. These white or sulphurous goods are really better to wear than those completely cured. During vulcanization the gum becomes very soft and runs together into one homogeneous mass, and finally, when a higher point is reached, it hardens again. After remaining in the heater a sufficient time-about eight or ten hours in all-the shoes are carried, at an early hour in the morning, into the packing room, where, after being removed from the lasts, they are laid in long, glittering rows on the tables. Then comes along the inspector, who examines every pair very closely and passes judgment according to the character of the workmanship.

THE PERSECUTED.

BY REV. J. S. WILLIS. *

I saw an eagle on his clift,
Beneath the dun cloud's jagged rift,
And through the breach his dauntless eye
Gazed calmly up the azure sky.

Unmoved he sat 'mid lightnings dread,
And thunders rolling round his head,
Then spread his plumes like tiny sails
To catch the fury of the gales,
And beat the whirlwind's power to scorn
With pinions in the mountain born

Ten thousand times those wings have tried
The currents of the ether tide;

Ten thousand times that vision clomb
The blazing summer's sunlit dome;
Yet neither wreck nor dimness came

From maddening blast, nor piercing flame-
The glowing day's intenser light
But added freshness to his sight,
And in the wild wind's raging strife
His heart took new and stronger life.

I watched that bird from far below,

Where pride holds league with mirth and woe;
Where rampant folly's lustful brood
Devise the downfall of the good,

And selfishness and greed betray
The weak and guileless by the way.

I saw the ruthless hand of spite

Raised grimly 'gainst that monarch's might,
And cruel hatred's naked lance
With glittering sheen did upward glance,
As though it would that God defy
Who set the eagle's home on high.

I saw the sons of envy bring
Their fragile arrows to the string,
And strive with reeking hand to trace
The venomed missiles to their place;
Yet, feebler than the straws that fly
Before the blast, when winter's nigh,
Each shaft fell short-each aim was vain-
The proud bird's eye still swept the plain,
And where the harmless tumult rose,
Looked calmly down upon his foes.

Thrice regal thou, O, bird of storm!
Of bravest heart and boldest form,
The stars do crown thee--and thy throne,
The peaks, where latest sunset shone.

Thine is the rainbow-belted morn,
The glittering Orient's golden horn,
And proud and peaceful is thy sleep
Where mottled midnight wraps the steep.

'Twas God the eagle's eyrie gave,
'Tis God that watches o'er the brave,
Gifts genius with its wings of light,
Embattles prowess with his might,
And throws around the pure and free
The guerdon of his majesty.

God mocks the coward, spurns the mean,
Sets walls of rock and brass between
The servile and the noble heart,
And shields the eagle from the dart.

God built the mountains grand and high,
For men that soar and birds that fly;
And left the low and swampy lands
For nature's vile and groveling bands.

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