Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 21 eyes. He disappeared from view in a moment, but that face haunted me and I had serious doubts of the safety of the limited that night. The next day, however, I was relieved to find no account of an accident in the papers. The morning after that, I was again in the depot to leave Ogden on a way train. Walking to the end of the station, I saw a little group of men carrying a stretcher on which v as something covered with a blanket. Among them I recognized the conductor of the limited, and immediately went up to him. “It’s Bob Williams,” he said. “He stuck to his post like a man, but this morning he couldn’t stand it any longer. He left his cab for good to give up his job of engineer. The fire- man started to run 2001 into the roundhouse. Bob was v alk- ing up the track instead of away from it, and the fireman didn’t see him in the shadow of the signal-tower until too late. That’s all there is to tell.” Charles S. Lerch, ’ll. ulrtolrt. Much is said to depend On an athlete’s condition — Just how much he shall spend. May be said to depend. And as for an end To his long repetition. Much is said to depend On an athlete’s condition.

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20 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL that it was not safe to entrust the lives of all the people on the limited to such a man as this, I glanced at 2001 for a moment. It stood there so massively black against the black sky, the light of its firebox gleamed so luridly on the dark- ness, its complicated machinery only suggested by flashes of steel here and there, conveyed such an idea of grinding and crushing, that I actually felt an oppressive sense of the power of the huge machine, a dread of the malice that the engineer supposed to be lurking in that great mass of metal. I could see that the man’s imagination was wearing away his reason, but though I knew his fear was a form of insanity, I could at that moment, sympathize with the mental suffering which he endured. When I returned to the sleeper I began talking with the conductor who seemed an old veteran of the rails. He told me that Bob Williams had been losing his ability as an engineer ever since he took charge of 2001, and that he seemed pos- sessed with the idea the engine wanted to kill him. “Bob used to be the best engineer on the road, but he’s gone craz}?- over 2001, and what with the fear he has that his engine will some day crush the life out of him, I never feel safe while riding behind him.” I saw Bob Williams once more. I was hurrying from the train at Ogden after a long dusty day of travel, when I saw him on his way to make his nightly run. He did not see me nor any of the people through whom he was treading his way. I never beheld a more wretched creature than the engineer of 2001 that night. He was bowed down like an old man of ninety, his head hung upon his breast, his face was cadaver- ous and of a pale blue tinge, while every vein stood out in the thin lifeless hands that dangled from the sleeves of his blue jacket. The bells clanging on the locomotives in the station caused him to start and stare at the tracks with wild fearful

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22 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL Suggml, mh pnrtrg. O many minds the word “poetry” conveys an uncertain, indefinite meaning, and seems to cover every species of rhythm that the intellect of man has ever evolved. Many peo- ple like to read the limericks and squibs of the daily papers and the magazines; some delight in dashing poems of daring adventure; other heartsick maidens “love” the sentimental lyrics; v hile certain persons get the pamphlets of “poems” issued by the many budding authors around town — such as Prof. Geddes, for instance — , and devour their contents with pleasure ; but all, no matter what style they prefer, de- clare that they “just dote on poetry,” and they think that their taste for good literature is exceedingly well developed. But their conception of the word “poetry” is too broad. They include under this division writings that should fall under the heading of verse or doggerel; and this notwithstanding the fact that these species of rhyme are entirely distinct from the afore-named one. Doggerel itself may be considered as separated into two classes — the intentional and the unintentional. Hood has writ- ten a number of works which were meant to be doggerel, and the mind of the reader, entering into the spirit of the author, enjoys the “poems” greatly. The following is the last stanza of one of his well-known successor, and illustrates how he often makes use of a play on words, or a comical combination of ideas. It relates the sad end of an old sailor, who, after several years on the sea, returned only to find his sweetheart married to another m an ; and thereupon died of grief.