THE WORLD’S FASTEST TRAIN.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 144198, 15 September 1913, Page 5

THE WORLD’S FASTEST TRAIN.

PARIS TO CALAIS EXPRESS, (By G. Ward Price in the Daily Mail.) in July and August tho Gar© du Nord is the most Anglo-Saxon pLoo in Paris. A ceaseless tide of English travellers ©bba*and hows through it half a dozen times a day.Few of thee© gay home-going English people who crowd the great station realise that tho train in which they are actuality to travel is the fastest train in tho world—a train that reaches the speed of seventy-five miles an hour. There are two trains each day from Pans th-av attain this speed during their journey of three hours and ten minutes to Calais. Them average for the ISo miles is fifty-seven miles an hour, but there are gradients to bo mcrtAued, there are checks at signals to bo made up, there aro junctions that must b© passed through cautiously, and curves to bo rounded where the speed must drop to below forty. Tho high average of fifty-seven is only kept up by gravelling over the long straight x-oadhes of the lino, where it is perfectly safe to do so, at seventy-five miles an hour, tho highest speed allowed by law in France.

To realise to the full the terrific effect of this enormous mass hurtling along at such a speed a pest on tho engine is tho only place. It was by a favour of the Norcl Company that X have had this experience. Holding on. to an upright rod of steel, I stood behind tho driver, a tvr>;cal mechanic of the race tha\ are the best mechanics in the world. With.cn© hand on the IVc&iinghous© brake and tho other on tho regulator, ho peered through his little window along the side of the great green boiler stretching out liko a gigantic motor-car Ixmncfc hi front of us. On tho other bido of the engine cab was the stoker, keeping a look-out along the line through another Little window. Every r-iiroo minutes ho would swing open the great white maw of tho furnace in irout of the cab and tlxrow in five or six great shovelfuls of coal from the tender behind me, distributing them with a deft turn of tho wrist evenly over tho bed of flame four yardu long within. I counted those* shovelfuls—337 of them during tho journey, <-.sch holding as much as a drawingtoom scuttle. Four tons wo used in going from Paris to Calais.

In front of the driver was the speedometer. Over his shoulder I watched tho needle climb gradually up tho arc. “Good,” I shouted above tho roar raa the pointer readied tho 60-mile an hour mark. “Nothing,” I saw his lips say in reply. “Uphill,” ami he mad© an .ascending gesture with his hand. Looking through tho window I saw that wo were mounting a gradual slope to a distinct skyline. A moment later we reached it. Tho begrimed enginedriver touched wf on tho arm. “Now —look,” ho roared in my ear, pointing to tho speedometer. Wo were on a down-slope. The din of tho heavy train increased. Tho floor of the 86-ton engine swung from side to side. The thick steel rod to which I was holding quivered ami jerked as if it was ,loose. The needle leapt up tho .dial, in. a series of convulsive iittl© jerks. Fields on either side of tlie lino were .streaming giddily past us, with ©very feature flashed out of sight till they looked Kke no moro than a streak of green paint from a brush. The lino stretched far ahead of us, a gleaming ribbon of steel, ceaselessly devoured ky tho roaring monster of a train.

Up and up went tho pointer; GO—--70—75 miles ‘an hour. And at that speed it hung for ton minutes. During that time wo shot through woods that wo only saw when they were past; wo tore across a viaduct from ono hill to another at such a speed that I era: Id have vowed wo had leapt tho valley clear. We shot past a loca) train on another lino as a motor-car overtakes a rabbit. Wo hurtled through tunnels black as a- mine, where tho roof pressed down on ono till eardrums we.ro fit to burst with tho din. Through villages that never saw us; post stations that whizzed by, tho Calais express tore on its way. until far down tjio lino a signal barred tho road. Tho driver swung a lover; there was a buzz of steam, and in tho space of a few yards, it seemed, we were crawling along at four miles an hour. “Guignc,” said the driver. “AA’o shall lose four minutes.”

“Can’t you go faster than seventyfive?” 1 asked him.

“AVo could, but wo aro not allowed. There is a speed register. See,” ho touched a tiny official seal of lead. “Tho Government inspector takes out our speed record for each journey. If wo had gone above 75 miles an hour thero would ho trouble.” “How fast could yon go?”.

“Oh, 80—90—perhaps more. Pardon”—tho signal had changed, and three minutes later we were at full headlong speed again. AA’o made up tho four minutes lost at tho sigi/J, and fifty miles further on were a minute abend of time, “I like to'he a minute ahead,” said the driver. And with that much in hand we drew up in Calais Harbour alongside the steamer. It had taken 4 tons of coal and 140 cubic feet of water to take us thero. Yet none of tho passengers even glanced at tho mew £SOOO engine that had brought them oa their homeward way at this wonderful speed.