THE TUNNEL.
Willy was lying at his ease and resting himself after having done so much business, when he suddenly heard a loud and harsh sound which frightened him; he crept close to his Mamma, saying he had never heard such a horrid screeching noise in his life.
"It is only a signal for something," said she, "but for what, I cannot tell."
"I dare say it comes from that terrible fire carriage," said Willy.
"It does," replied his father, "a little steam is let out through a very small hole, and the difficulty the steam has to force its way through the hole makes this disagreeable whistle."
"You complain of my little whistle sometimes, Mamma," said Willy, "but I am sure it does not make half so disagreeable a noise as this."
Very soon after, to the great astonishment of Willy, it became suddenly dark, so dark that he could hardly see his Papa or his Mamma, though the sun had shone brightly a minute before. He laid hold of his mother's hand, and asked what was the matter.
"Nothing, my dear," said she, "we are only going through a tunnel."
"A tunnel? what's that?"
"It is a long hole made in the ground through a hill, that the train may go straight through the hill instead of going over it, for it is not easy for trains to go up and down hill."
"Then it must be a very long hole indeed! When shall we get through it, and see daylight again?"
"In a minute or two," replied she; "and this, no doubt, was the reason the whistle gave a signal, to warn any one, who might chance to be in the tunnel to get out of the way before the train went in. And this noise, disagreeable as it is, makes an excellent signal, it is heard at so great a distance; and it is so unlike all other sounds that it can never be mistaken."
"And how can they make such a long hole, and so large too! big enough for the train to pass through?"
"They begin," said his father, "by digging into the hill at both ends, the end at which we came in, and the end at which we shall soon go out, and they carry away the earth in wheelbarrows as they go on."
"What a quantity of ground there must be to wheel away!" said Willy; "and are we very low under ground now?"
"We have not gone down," replied his father; "but then the hill is high above our heads, much higher than a house."
"Oh dear!" cried Willy, "if the hill were to fall upon us, would it not crush us to death?"
"Certainly it would, but there is no danger of that. Were you ever afraid that the ceiling of a room would fall down, and kill you?"
"Oh no," said Willy, laughing, "I never thought of such a thing."
"Because it never happens," said his father; "nor does it happen to a hill to fall down into a tunnel. Builders, who understand how to build houses, and engineers, who know how to make tunnels, take care to construct them in such a manner that they shall not fall."
"I think, Mamma," said Willy, "that we are getting near the end of the tunnel, for I see a little light."
"That glimmering of light," said his father, "comes from a hole which has been made from the top of the hill, and is called a shaft. When a tunnel is very long, it is so difficult to get rid of the earth that it is found easier to take it away from the middle part of the tunnel, by pulling it up through a shaft, or well."
"Then," said Willy, "they dig a shaft just as they dig a well, I suppose, only they bring up baskets full of earth instead of water. I remember seeing the well dug in our garden."
"Then you must have observed, that when they first began to dig the well they brought up earth; it was not till they had dug down to a spring of water that they brought up water."
"These shafts have also the advantage of letting light and air into the tunnel."
"It is but very little," replied Willy, "for I could hardly have seen you and Mamma, if it had not been for the little lamp at the top of the carriage."
"Now, Willy," said his mother, "I think you will soon see us by daylight, for we are coming to the end of the tunnel. Mind that you look at the sides of the tunnel before we leave it."
The daylight increased every instant, and Willy saw that the sides of the tunnel as well as the arch overhead were built of bricks.
"Just like the brick walls of a house," said he; "if I had known that, I should not have been afraid of the hill falling upon us and crushing us. I thought the tunnel was only a hole made through the ground."
"In some places," said his father, "that is really the case; but then it is where the ground is made of hard rock, so that it is as strong and even stronger than a brick wall."
"It is like building a house of stone, like our country house, instead of bricks, like our house in London."
"Yes," replied his father, "only the stone walls of a tunnel are not built, they are there all ready made; you have only to cut a road through them."
"How hard it must be to dig through the solid rock! they cannot do it with a spade, can they?"
"No; sometimes they work with a pickaxe, and sometimes they blow up pieces of the rock with gunpowder; but that you are too young to understand."
Just then the train came out of the tunnel, and Willy was quite delighted to see daylight once more. He now began to feel very hungry, and inquired of his Mamma when he should dine?
"We shall very soon arrive at a station," replied she, "where the train will stop for ten minutes, and as I do not think you can eat your dinner in so short a time, I believe that you must dine with us when we reach Derby; you may eat a luncheon at the station, and then you will be able to wait for a late dinner."
To dine in the dining-room with Papa and Mamma was a treat Willy had never yet known, and he could not help jumping about for joy; then recollecting the old lady, he stopped suddenly, fearful of disturbing her; but she observed his forbearance, and said, "Jump on, my lad, in your own corner; I like to see children happy when they are good." But if Willy had not disturbed the old lady, he had awakened the young one, and she awoke in very bad humour; her eyes were so swelled with crying, that Willy scarcely knew her again, and thought she looked ugly rather than pretty. She too was hungry, and said the carriage must turn about and go home to have dinner; her mother promised she should have her dinner very soon, the first time they stopped; so then Harriet made up her mind to grumble and whine until that time arrived. Willy looked at her, and thought what a sad thing it was to be a spoiled child.