CATASTROPHE: In a Maryland Fog

It was just 45 minutes to Washington. In the B. & O.'s eight-car Cleveland-Washington Night Express, roaring down the double-track right-of-way through the Maryland hills, the yawns and groans of awakening passengers floated down the aisles. Porters tugged at green Pullman curtains. In the diner there was the satisfying, early-morning smell of buttered toast and steaming coffee. The scrub pine and birch that swished by outside the windows were shrouded in a low-lying fog.

The train squealed to a stop. In the washrooms, men hurried to finish shaving while the train stood...

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