Not feeling justified in invoking the aid of such an expensive person, the new superintendent decided to select a name, and as the State of California contains many poetical names to draw from, the time card for the Pacific division was consulted. Such names as "Santa Maria," "Santa Margarita," etc., were canvassed and rejected, and the little city of "Orilla" seemed to proffer its name. By reference to a Spanish dictionary, it was ascertained that the meaning of the word "Orilla" was defined, "Along the shore," and as the name was poetical enough and as his line of railroad ran along the shore of the Pacific Ocean, he determined to name the car, "Orilla." This was a flattering tribute to the town of Orilla, and on the first appearance of Mr. Worthington's car in that little city, the populace showed their appreciation by deluging the car with flowers. The "Orilla" had been refitted throughout and was very beautiful, and all the employes of the road hailed its coming, for they liked to see it and the popular superintendent, but there are contrary spirits the whole world over. One night the superintendent, with his private car, was coming North, attached to the San Francisco flyer, and stopped for a few minutes at San Luis Obispo, where the car inspector came around with his hammer to test the wheels of each car. Another functionary was also on duty to take the number or names of each car. "Look yere, Chimmie, wot is dis?" and he began spelling out "O R I L L A." "Begorrah, that's a moighty funny name." "Yes, dat's de old man's private snap" (Mr. Worthington was 35 years old at this time), "and he calls it 'Orilla'," was the other's rejoinder. "'Orilla?' 'Orilla?' begorrah and it should have a 'G' in front of it and I'm going to put one there." A can of black paint was produced and quite a decent looking letter "G" was prefixed to the car's appellation, completely changing its euphony. The two worthies laughed at their alleged witticism and the "Gorilla" went Northward. From his window in the middle of the car that evening, Mr. Worthington was a witness of the whole occurrence, but wisely kept silent. He realized if he made a demonstration, the employes would have a laugh on him and jokes travel fast with men employed on a railroad. Arriving in San Francisco, Mr. Worthington had the car put up immediately in the shops and ordered the name erased and the less poetic name of "Surf" substituted. Of course, surf goes along the shore, so virtually the title was not changed. The jokers at San Luis Obispo had no joke after all, and probably will never know, unless they read this story, how it happened that B. A. Worthington so quickly changed the name of his private car. Illustration: End of Chapter 14. SHOWING OFF.