any obstruction, as they think had such a person been
sent on the occasion of the recent accident it would not
have occurred. The jury think that the Midland Railway
Company's rules for the guidance of their servants
are generally good if strictly adhered to, which they
regret to find was not the case in this instance. Had
they been so, the jury are of opinion the accident would
not have taken place. And they further recommend to
the Directors in future to adopt such prompt means as
may be in their power to compel their servants to make
themselves acquainted with, and obey, the printed rules
of the company." The jury conclude their remarks
desiring to express a severe censure upon J. Stevenson,
station-master at Whatstandwell-bridge, for absenting
himself from his station under such circumstances.

A most terrific and lamentable Railway Accident took
place on the evening of the 5th inst. on the Great
Southern and Western line at Straffan, within a few
miles of the Dublin terminus. A passenger train from
the south, that was due in Dublin about 6 o'clock p.m.,
was brought to a standstill between the Sallins and
Straffan stations, owing to some defect in the engine.
Mr. C. Barrington, the solicitor to the company, who
was a passenger by the train, got out and directed one
of the railway servants to go down the line with a
danger signal, as there was a heavy cattle and luggage
train following. The man departed accordingly with a
red (danger) lamp. He had been gone about twelve or
fifteen minutes when the red lamps in front of the cattle
train were seen approaching. It was taken for granted
that it was coming along at a slow speed, for the line
was straight, and its pace could not be judged, and in
consequence of this unhappy confidence some persons
who had got out of the carriages of the passenger train
re-entered them, fearing lest their engine might be got
into motion and that they would be left behind, and
feeling satisfied that the danger signal had been observed
by the driver. Scarcely had they done so, however,
when the cattle train ran at full speed into them, going
clean through a first-class carriage that was last in the
passenger train, and driving the remainder into a heap
of ruins. The third carriage from the front of the
passenger train, a second-class carriage, broke up and
turned over, bursting the powerful iron links which
held it to the carriage immediately before it. The
impulse given to the two forward carriages thus freed was
so tremendous that the roof was cut clean off the one
next the ruined train, and it actually fell upon the spot
which the carriage just before occupied, the unroofed
carriage with the one before it, the tender and engine
being sent flying along the line, which they traversed
for nearly three-quarters of a mile before they stopped,
passing the Straffan station about a quarter of a mile.
Of the passengers in those two carriages the greater
number were killed, and scarcely any escaped without
serious injury. Among those who escaped was Captain
Collis, the Commander of the Thames steamer, who has
given an interesting narrative of the disaster. "After
passing the Sallins station," he said, "the engine went
slowly and stopped about half a mile short of the Straffan
station; it remained stationary about fifteen minutes.
Five passengers got out with me, Mr. Jelly, of
Maryborough; Mr. Connor, of Newbridge; Mr. Kelly, of
the same place; a Scotch gentleman, Mr. Leitch, from
Armagh; and an English gentleman, whose name I did
not ascertain. He was in too much trouble for me to
ask him after all was over, for he lost his pretty young
wife and his sister. Mr. Croker Barrington, the solicitor
to the company, who was riding in a first-class carriage
next the engine, got out and sent one of the railway
servants (the stoker I think it was) down the line with
a red lamp to stop the luggage and cattle-train that we
knew was about half an hour behind us. We were,
however, eleven minutes behind our time at Sallins.
He had been gone about ten or from that to fifteen
minutes, when we saw the lights of the cattle-train
approaching. We all thought, of course, it was coming
along quite slow. Mr. Jelly stepped into his carriage, stopped
in the doorway, and looked out. The English gentleman's
wife and sister were behind Mr. Jelly, and they
wanted to get out, but he bid them not stir, as he was
himself going to get in. Mr. Kelly was going to get
into his carriage also, when I said—'Stop a little.
There is no hurry. The train won't go without some
warning, and, at all events, you and I are active enough
to jump on if it should. But just wait till this train
comes up.' 'Oh,' said he, 'it is merely walking up to
us;' but, nevertheless, he waited. I stepped close to
the line and cast my eye along, when I saw by the
reflection of the light upon the shining rails that it was
coming at full speed, and I heard by the beat of the
engine that the steam was not eased off. I at once
shouted out—'Good God! she is coming at full speed;
look, look out;' and I jumped over the wire-fence into
the field and looked round me. I saw the cattle-train
run right into the last carriage of the passenger-train—
indeed, through it. In an instant all was a pile of ruin.
I ran back and saw the driver of the cattle-train, who
seemed horrified at the frightful calamity. I asked him,
was he hurt? He replied, 'No, but I'll never get over
it.' He then proceeded to assist the wounded passengers.
I perceived that the steam was being generated, and
that in a minute or two more we would all be blown
away by the explosion of the engine, and I sang out for
the engineer and bid him blow off the steam. He did so,
and then we set to work. The first sight I came on was
the bodies of two women quite dead. They lay on the
bank as if they had been shot out of the door. Near
them was a priest, or friar, or monk. He was quite
dead, lying close to the rails, as if he had been thrown
against the embankment and had rebounded back. I
next saw a man, both of whose thighs were broken
across. Messrs. Kelly and Connor and I pulled him out
from under the ruins of the carriages. He was living,
and we laid him upon the bank. We were then
attracted by the cries of a lady, whose hand was jammed
between the carriages. Her sister lay near her, either
dead or insensible. After labouring very hard for some
time we failed to extricate them, and had to turn to
others while more assistance was being procured. From
a heap of ruins, where we saw shawls, hats, and
handkerchiefs, we next got out a lady, greatly disfigured,
but still alive. We then came to the body of Mr. Jelly,
which could hardly be recognised, his head being torn
and smashed off—his legs both cut off—his body torn up,
and his clothes torn all off him. I adjusted his clothes,
and we put the body aside, and from near him we got
out the bodies of the English gentleman's wife and
sister. Poor fellow! he threw himself madly upon the
body of his wife, and kissed her frantically, and then
we got the little baby from under her, and the aunt's
clothes, alive. We then went to the first-class carriage
that had been struck by the engine, and there we saw
the bodies of two ladies, apparently cut in two at the
waist. They were so jammed in that we could not get
at them. Near them was the body of another lady,
whose dress only we could see, she was so buried in the
ruins. The cries of a little boy then attracted me. He
was about eight years old. He was lying under the
axletree of a carriage, which had broken both his little
legs, and was lying across them. With great difficulty
we got him out by raising the axle with a crowbar.
I then returned with more help to the two ladies,
one of whose hands was jammed, and we got
them out. I don't know whether the insensible
lady was dead or not, but I think she was. We
laid her on the bank. The other was not much
hurt. We next discovered the body of a very large man
under the train. His head was cut off and gone; we
found no trace of it. Both his legs were cut off also from
the thighs down. We got out the remains and placed
them on the bank. I was at this time a good deal
exhausted, having worked very hard. Sir Edward
Kennedy now came up. He had been a passenger in
the carriage next the engine, which had been shot on by
the collision past Straffan station. He had escaped
unhurt, and had rendered every assistance to the passengers
in those two carriages, which, with the engine, had been
sent on by the concussion. He then returned down the
line to help there, and took the command from me, to
my great relief, for I was quite worn out. I cannot tell
you how hard he worked, as did also those gentlemen
whose names I have mentioned, and indeed everyone,
railway people, country people, and all. I broke off a
piece of a carriage and helped to make a litter of it, on
which we placed a lady who had her two legs broken, and