Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1868-11-25
Sleeping Car BsafItudss.

Sleeplng Car Boatitudes.
A Boston correspondent OF the New
York Tribune gives his experience o.
sleeping cars:
Blessed" says SancO Panza, "ii
the memory of the man who invented
sleep! Itwraps q man all round like
a blanketi" Cursed, say I, be the
memory Of him who invented sleep
ing cars. 1t is the same to q man as
if he had been tossed in a blanket.
have often wondered how it has hap
pened that in all literature there is nc
such thing as a good description of q
shipwreck; one that makes you feel in
reading it; this man has been a part
Of what he describes; these are not
mere words, mere rhetoric, the Ia
bored competition Of the study; this
is the reality. Homer, Virgil, Shakes
peare, De Foe, st. Pierre, have all
tried their hands at it, and have made
n series Of fiat and lamentable failures.
Their heroes are neither sea-sick them
selves, nor the cause OF sea-sickness in
others. They are one and all far
enough from exciting the least terror
In our minds; we follow their ad-
ventures with an impe. turbable So
renity, and hear about their gllping
quarts upon quarts of salt water, about
their being banged on the rocks,
scrRped over the barnaeles, rolled in
the sand, pinched between floating
timbers, clinging to heheoOps, living
for weeks upon q single biscuit or a
bit Of candle, and finally being picked
up in the nick of time by some vessel
that was bound to a place two or three
hundred miles away from the spot
they were aiming at; all this we read
without the slightest agitation, with
out the quickening Of pulse, or the
heaving Of sigh in short, without
any belief whatever in the doleful
story! Either the writers do not draw
from their own experience, or they
write too long after the event, or they
labor too much over their compost
ton; but, whatever may be the cause,
the result is too apt to be tasteless
draught. No doubt one great obstacle
is found in the difficulty Of getting at
work with pen and paper soon enough
after the catastrophe. Andyet, naked,
bleeding, manned, banged, headachy
and dispirited, hungry, thirsty and
cold, one would hardly feel in the
mood to write, even if, with more than
r. Crusoe's luck, he should find q neat
and complete writing apparatus await
ing him at the rocks. Few persons,
however endowed with 8 flow Of
words, but are more or less dependent
on circumstances and surroundings
for the felicity Of their composition,
and circumstances and surroundings
less propitious than those have hint
ed at, would perhaps be impossible TO
imagine.
These reflections were forced upon
my mind when, yesterday, after =
night Of mental agony and unparal-
leled bodily suffering, was tossed up
on the platform of the Boston and
Worcester Railroad station in this
bright little city, a shattered and spir-
itleSs creature, the wreck Of happy
and intelligent human being who,
only few hours before, had proudly
paid his fare, received q check for his
baggage, and, with more self-congrat
ulation and pity for passengers in the
carriages than was becoming,
had taken his seat for the first time in
q sleeping car! AS l entered the long
alley between the berths, and made
one OF the queue that slowly pushes
up to the cool, self-possessed, method
zeal person who, with the utmost de-
takes down from the mouth
Of each person, particulars Of his name
and residence, the day and hour of
his birth, the number of his family,
his occupation, average income, and
many other items that he thinks nee
.NF a.. ae,U.lAgaI
patient, muttering crowd that swears
and SINNERS in the alley-1 had
leisure to study the arrange
ment of the sleeping car. There was
touching in the perfect
neatness and comfort of the beds. In
the midst of q great, dirty, roaring,
selfish city, one could hardly have
looked for such domesticity and moth
erly providence. How cool and fresh
the linen looked! How springy the
How soft the pillowsi
Surely this must be the happiest way
to bridge the two hundred and odd
miles between New York and Boston
ITO sleepl" and, by g sleep, TO say
we end the newsboys and the popcorn
man, urchin with gum-drops, and
with Ridley's candies, the long array
Of 'bound books, " novels, "Harper's,
''Leslie's,D - Fun for Three Months
and, though last, not least, the stencil,
the gloom, the smoke, the dirt, Of that
foul place, the Depot at New Haven
'Tis consummatiOn devoutly TO be
wished / little thought that in that
sleep there might be dreamsl
After the tedious gentleman had
given me my ticket suffered myself
to be led like q lamb to a bench in sn
alcove at one side Of the car. This
bench a youth shared with me, and
opposite were two other victims. All
four Of us were innocent and unsus-
peeting; we entered into light and
courteous conversation we played
about the subject that lay nearest our
thoughts, as though we were utterly
Indifferent to it, we encouraged each
other in a fatuous confidence in the
honor and good intentions of those TO
whom we had blindly intrusted our
selves. We expressed our belief in
the beds! Each one told the other
that he expected to sleep like a top
We believed we should, or We tried TO
believe it, and as We really knew moth
ing about tops and how they sleep,
perhaps we did sleep like them. In
that case, tops are a miserable class of
creatures, and 1 commend them TO my
friend Mr.. Bergh. Conversation soOn
became confidential. The youth, my
neighbor, wound up his watch. He
said that he had been told he must
particularly look out for pickpockets
in the sleeping cars. His papa had
told him that they looked remarkably
like gentlemen. His watch was
valuable one. Mamma had given it
to him on his birthday, Of which oc-
casion judged he could not have eel
ebrated many anniversaries. He had
more money about him than he cared
to lose. His aunt had advised him to
pin it into his fob, but his brother had
told him that all such devices were
useless against pickpockets. We had
a good deal of this innocent prattle,
and then the man appeared who makes
I'D the beds. He pulled levers up and
down, shot bolts, turned windlAsses,
adjusted screws, and finally We saw
our snug alcoves transformed into four
beds of such guileless and prepCs-
sessing appearance as might have de-
ceived the very elect For us, as for
the rest, snOw-white sheets were
spread crimson blankets-which the
chilly August air, and the dreary, pat
tering rain made seem most comfort
able, were costly tucked in, plumpest
pillows invited our heads, and shadow
ing curtains inclosed me and the con-
fiding youth in their folds while We
undressed for the night. But, reader,
am no poet, and cannot describe
that night.