This was in the time of the great popular phrenology craze, when the fences and barns along the roads throughout the country were plastered with big skull-bump posters, headed, “Know Thyself,” and advising everybody to attend schoolhouse lectures to have their heads explained and be told what they were good for and whom they ought to marry.  My mechanical bundle seemed to bring a good deal of this phrenology to mind, for many of the onlookers would say, “I wish I could see that boy’s head,—­he must have a tremendous bump of invention.”  Others complimented me by saying, “I wish I had that fellow’s head.  I’d rather have it than the best farm in the State.”

I stayed overnight at this little tavern, waiting for a train.  In the morning I went to the station, and set my bundle on the platform.  Along came the thundering train, a glorious sight, the first train I had ever waited for.  When the conductor saw my queer baggage, he cried, “Hello!  What have we here?”

“Inventions for keeping time, early rising, and so forth.  May I take them into the car with me?”

“You can take them where you like,” he replied, “but you had better give them to the baggage-master.  If you take them into the car they will draw a crowd and might get broken.”

So I gave them to the baggage-master and made haste to ask the conductor whether I might ride on the engine.  He good-naturedly said:  “Yes, it’s the right place for you.  Run ahead, and tell the engineer what I say.”  But the engineer bluntly refused to let me on, saying:  “It don’t matter what the conductor told you. I say you can’t ride on my engine.”

By this time the conductor, standing ready to start his train, was watching to see what luck I had, and when he saw me returning came ahead to meet me.

“The engineer won’t let me on,” I reported.

“Won’t he?” said the kind conductor.  “Oh!  I guess he will.  You come down with me.”  And so he actually took the time and patience to walk the length of that long train to get me on to the engine.

“Charlie,” said he, addressing the engineer, “don’t you ever take a passenger?”

“Very seldom,” he replied.

“Anyhow, I wish you would take this young man on.  He has the strangest machines in the baggage-car I ever saw in my life.  I believe he could make a locomotive.  He wants to see the engine running.  Let him on.”  Then in a low whisper he told me to jump on, which I did gladly, the engineer offering neither encouragement nor objection.

As soon as the train was started, the engineer asked what the “strange thing” the conductor spoke of really was.

“Only inventions for keeping time, getting folk up in the morning, and so forth,” I hastily replied, and before he could ask any more questions I asked permission to go outside of the cab to see the machinery.  This he kindly granted, adding, “Be careful not to fall off, and when you hear me whistling for a station you come back, because if it is reported against me to the superintendent that I allow boys to run all over my engine I might lose my job.”