Trains and Translations.

He solved many problems concerning which I have often been tempted to interrogate stationmasters and porters, only they would never stand stationary sufficiently long for me to pop the question. All trainmen seem to be in permanent training—probably to the end of tossing the tablet, jumping the points, catching the cow-catcher, and punching the pasteboard, at the annual railway sports. But Ana Nias knows all about trains. For instance, he explained that the man who gives a rendering of the Anvil Chorus with a hammer on the carriage wheels at railway stations, does so to soothe the sleepers, who are liable to take fright at the slightest mention of bogeys. If their fears are not lulled they are prone to roll over in their beds and upset the timetable. “Why,” I interrogated, “Do engines sometimes wear their funnels at the wrong end, as it were. It looks unnatural, and must be inimical to the psychological metaphysics of the unfortunate engine to go galloping through the scenery, tail first. It is liable in time to produce locomoter ataxia, oscillation of the harmonium, or some other complex to which engines are prone when they get run down.”

“Your observations,” replied Ana Nias, “are certainly prestigious and tantamount to physiology, but they show a certain ignorance of the hypersalubrious exuberancies of locomotives. You forget that an engine is one of the most versatile of ferreous fauna. It can blow its nose through its hat, hiss through its heels, pant through its pockets, and take a drink through a hole in the back of its neck, so why shouldn't it be capable of wearing its funnel aft instead of for'ard, and thus perambulate in juxtaposition to the scenic redundancies of the landscape. As a matter of fact, engines run with their tails facing the approaching distance only when they are tired. It encourages them in the belief that they are headed for home when they are not.”

Space will not permit me to impart all Ana Nias's knowledge concerning trains, but you can judge from his language that he is a man of remarkable learning.

His knowledge of foreign lingos is also profound. He told me that the phrase “suprema a situ,” which you will notice emblazoned on the Wellington buses and trams is Antiphlogistine page 14 for “comfortable seats to sit on;” also that the term “quid pro quo,” is Yiddish for “I.O.U. a pound,” that “pro bone publico” indicates a good hotel, and “ante bellum” a square feed. So much for trains and translations.