Robert Routledge, in his article upon railways, remarks:—“It may easily be seen on looking at a line of rails that they are not laid with the ends quite touching each other, or, at least, they are not usually in contact. The reason of this is that space must be allowed for the expansion which takes place when a rise in the temperature occurs. The neglect of this precaution has sometimes led to damage and accidents. A certain railway was opened in June, and, after an excursion train had in the morning passed over it, the midday heat so expanded the iron that the rails became, in some places, elevated to two feet above the level, and the sleepers were torn up; so that in order to admit the return of the train, the rails had to be fully relaid in a kind of zigzag. In June, 1856, a train was thrown off the metals of the North-Eastern Railway, in consequence of the rails rising up through expansion.” A SMART REJOINDER. An American railway employé asked for a pass down to visit his family. “You are in the employ of the railway?” asked the gentleman applied to. “Yes.” “You receive your pay regularly?” “Yes.” “Well, now, suppose you were working for a farmer, instead of a railway, would you expect your employer to hitch up his team every Saturday night and carry you home?” This seemed a poser, but it wasn’t. “No,” said the man promptly, “I wouldn’t expect that; but if the farmer had his team hitched up and was going my way, I should call him a contemptible fellow if he would not let me ride.” Mr. Employé came out three minutes afterwards with a pass good for three months. COURTING ON A RAILWAY THIRTY MILES AN HOUR. An incident occurred on the Little Miami Railway which outstrips, in point of speed and enterprise, although in a somewhat different field, the lightning express, “fifty-cents-a-mile” special train achievement which attended the delivery of the recent famous “defalcation report” in this city. The facts are about thus: A lady, somewhat past that period of life which _the world_ would term “young”—although she might differ from them—was on her way to this city, for purposes connected with active industry. At a point on the road a traveller took the train, who happened to enter the car in which the young lady occupied a seat. After walking up and down between the seats, the gentleman found no unoccupied seat, except the one-half of that upon which the lady had deposited her precious self and crinoline—the latter very modestly expansive. Making a virtue of necessity—a “stand-ee” berth or a little self-assurance—he modestly inquired if the lady had a fellow-traveller, and took a seat.