As a little boy, Stanford George was taken by his Uncle Whiteley to Halifax Central Station one Sunday morning to see the trains. This was no ordinary event, for there had been a terrible accident the previous evening as two trains had collided and a third, diverted into a siding, had run off the track and over the edge of the viaduct, killing the occupants of the houses below and severely injuring the driver and fireman of the locomotive, aptly named The Death’s Head. By the time that uncle and nephew had arrived at the scene, the bodies had been cleared away (Whiteley George delayed the timing of their visit to make sure that the youngster would not see any corpses). The sight that greeted them was still horrific; a mangle of twisted metal, splintered wood, and shattered glass. Workmen were lifti...

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