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In a Locomotive Stable.
Grooming the Iron Horse.

By “Bird Of Passage.”

On bravely through the sunshine and the showers!
Time has his work to do, and we have ours.-

Emerson.

A Very interesting and profitable experience which it might be appropriate to relate to the readers of the New Zealand Railways Magazine, befell the writer a few weeks ago.

In the course of certain nocturnal peregrinations (not, however, in perpetration of “dark burglarious deeds!”), he was privileged to spend a night in a locomotive running shed in the company of the engine cleaners, and to observe those lads of the Railway Department at their work.

It had been a dusty day, and the huge steel steed (an Ab. locomotive) in whose reputation for speed and dependability some five hundred passengers had that day placed the care and keeping of their lives, was fairly bespattered with the dirt and oil and grime of its two hundred miles express run.

The cleaners had just been issued their supply of stores-kerosene, cotton-waste, and the other odds and ends of a cleaner's equipment; the tiny lamps affixed to their caps were already alight, and they were now on the point of making a brief inspection of the engine before settling down in earnest to the task of removing every trace of the dust and rust with which it was, in most parts, covered. The preliminary inspection completed, their work then commenced—every part of the locomotive having to receive thorough treatment in orderly sequence.

There is no definite starting point in the process of cleaning a locomotive. Cleaning procedure varies according to the fancy and preference of the particular operator. If, however, time be the essence of the contract, then the cleaner is led instinctively to give first attention to the motion work of the locomotive (including the side-rods, brasses, cross-head, slide bars, etc.) and to remove every particle of grit from those vital parts, because, if not so removed, such foreign matter has a tendeney to work into them, to interfere with their efficient lubrication and, maybe, cause the parts to “seize.” Such a mishap might occasion much damage to the engine, and its withdrawal from productive service for a greater or lesser length of time; it might mean also a serious delay, to, and dislocation of, traffic over a big area. Again, where time is the matter to be considered, the cleaner is led to give attention to the tubes—to clean them—every one—thoroughly. The tubes are approached through the smoke-box. The ashes and soot, which lodge in them are removed by the insertion, in each tube in turn, of a long rod on the end of which an appropriately sized piece of hemp, or other material, is fixed. This part of the cleaner's duty is of great importance; for the question whether the engine shall or shall not steam freely—a most vital consideration to the engine driver—depends very largely on the tubes being clean, and free from all obstruction to the passage of the flames and hot gases of the fire. So much for this digression.

The cleaner, whose work and methods it was the writer's privilege to observe, commenced his cleaning operations on the righthand side of the engine, giving attention first to the wheels, frame, springs, and other fittings. To these parts he applied (with admirable energy) cotton-waste saturated with kerosene. This had the effect of removing all but the firmly fixed grease which had accumulated page 13 during the day's run. The more obstinate patches of oily grime, being softened by the action of the kerosene, disappeared as if by magic when briskly rubbed with fresh cotton-waste. What a transformation was now to be seen! That which, an hour or so before, had been fairly mottled with dust spots and oil spots patterned into fantastic map-like forms, through the agencies of motion and vibration, was now scrupulously clean and polished.

Attention was next devoted to the side-rods and brasses, the cross-head, valve-motion parts and cylinder covers, all on the same side of the engine. As with the wheels and frame, kerosene-saturated waste was applied to the steel and brass work, and the coating of oil and dust and rust with which it was covered came off with remarkable rapidity—urged by the energetic will of this embryo enginedriver.

The work was well done. The massive steel rods, the brasses and pins and bars and links, looked the very embodiment of majestic power, and stood out in relief against the dark background of the frame—as though in challenge to the critic to improve their apperance or to disprove their ability to repeat successfully their running performance of the previous day.

The cleaning of the right-hand side of the engine was now completed; and the cleaner betook himself to the opposite side, there to repeat, action by action, the rubbing and burnishing operations that had so definitely revealed the true identity of the parts which had a few moments before occupied his attention. The second instalment of the night's work having been finished, the time had arrived to give heed to the requirements of the inner man. The meal interval (while the city slept not far off) provided the writer with an opportunity to get into conversation with the lads, and to note their viewpoints on some interesting questions concerning themselves. They were ambitious to become first-class enginedrivers—to experience that sense of satisfaction in being entrusted in the not distant future with the responsibility of driving such a locomotive as this on which they were working—to be engaged on express work.

“What were they doing in order to realise such a worthy ambition?” was asked. One intelligent lad (who appeared to voice the sentiments of the rest) replied as follows:—

“There is only one way—if real success is to follow a cleaner's efforts to become a first-class enginedriver, and that is, simply, to get on with the job.” As the meaning of the phrase “get on with the job” was not, in the circumstances, as definite as it might be (at least to the layman in such matters), he was requested to give a fuller interpretation of its meaning.

“Oh, it is plain enough,” was the reply. “I mean that a chap, in order to realise his ambition to become a first class enginedriver, must apply himself diligently to the study of the profession he has chosen. He must, in the first place, make himself thoroughly acquainted with the mechanism of the engine; the purpose of its various parts, and the relation of one part to another. He must possess this knowledge, not only concerning the external features of the engine, but of the internal features as well; the structure and function of the boiler, cylinders, slidevalves—of all the internal sittings. Then he must master the question of the combustion of coal—how to get the maximum heat for steam-raising purposes out of the coal that is shovelled into the fire-box. He must know these subjects properly and have the knowledge at his finger-tips so as to be able to stand, successfully, cross-examination at any time on any question concerning the engine.

“What about the Westinghouse automatic air brake?” interposed another cleaner.

“Yes, the Westinghouse air brake has got to be studied and its structure and method of operation mastered,” continued the first speaker. “This is a pretty big study in itself,” he went on. “There is the air pump and its sittings, the driver's brake valve, the triple valve, the brake cylinders, reservoirs and couplings and all the rest-a chap's got to know the brake from one end to the other.”