Entered at the Cleveland, O., Postoffice as Second-Class Matter

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LOCOMOTIVE
ENGINEERS

JOURNAL

PUBLISHED BY THE BROTHERHOOD OF LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEERS

Hail and Farewell

BY LORA KELLY

JANUARY, 1917

In mystic shallop of white and gold
Over the sapphire seas,

Comes Father Time from worlds untold-
Skipper of centuries.

No compass needs he in his hands
To guide his course aright,
Save for the glass of shifting sands
That mark the Day and Night.

From out the rose and pearl of Dawn
He brings an argonaut;
And ere he, silent, passes on

Takes 'way one that he brought
Twelve moons ago to this same port;
He bids him leave our shore-

A voyager to History's court,
In the Land of Evermore.

-Cleveland Plain Dealer, Dec. 26, 1915.

The Old Year Out and the New Year In

BY EDITH V. ROSS

The celebration of New Year's day in New York has necessarily changed with the people who celebrate it. It was transplanted to New Amsterdam from Holland when a few houses clustered about the fort and every person in the village knew every other person. That was a fit community for making calls. When the people of New York had grown from hundreds to millions the custom broke down of its own weight.

How far back dates the custom of seeing the old year out and the new year in is not known. Certain it is that one night in New Amsterdam-December 31 - Hendrick, the watch, after calling the hour

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"Twelve o'clock and all's well!" turned to walk to the next corner to repeat the announcement, when he saw the house of Killian van Gansback in a blaze of illumination from fully a dozen wax candles. Hammering with the great iron knocker, the upper half of the door was opened, and he saw a number of Dutch girls in many petticoats and young men in many pairs of breeches raising pewter mugs to drink in Holland gin to St. Nicholas, the patron saint of the town, "May he grant us a prosperous year!"

"What means this invasion of the night when all good citizens should be sound asleep in bed?" he cried. "Disperse!"

The moment it was noticed that the intruder upon the festivities was the watch every light was blown out and there was a scattering of the revelers. Bolts were shot, and in a few minutes the rooms on the ground floor were locked and the great front door was barred.

At that time Katrina van Gansback was at a marriageable age, and her father had decided to wed her to old Dedrick Beekman, more than twice as old as she. Her mother was dead, and she had been brought up under the care of her aunt, Anneke Ten Eyck, a spinster of fifty. During the festivities on that eventful night the aunt drew Beekman into a side room for the purpose of arranging the settlement he was to make upon her niece and to appoint a day for the wedding.

Katrina was not only opposed to marrying old Beekman, but had a lover in young